Breathe Me Back To Life •Patrick Stump+Fall Out Boy•

Chapter Thirty Two: You're Getting Stuck, And You F-cked It Up

I really want to dedicate this to everyone for reading and voting and commenting because we're ALMOST AT TWENTY THOUSAND READS!

||Cole Wentz|| First Person's||

Today was misery

And I just can't believe this happened

And I finally broke down

I feel something wet touch my forehead, the cool sensation startling me out of my non peaceful slumber. It's the first real thing I've felt in what seems to be days, but is most likely only hours. Someone sighs lightly as they smooth the towel over my forehead, the cold feeling soothing my aching head. I keep my eyes shut lightly, feeling nauseous all over again. My head was killing me, definitely, and I couldn't even process anything long enough to think properly. All I remember are these Mayday Parade lyrics, and that's when I start hearing things again.

"You're okay," I hear Ryan whisper to me. His voice sounds tired and worried, the words barely pushing past his cracking lips. I smile slightly, feeling him pull the damp towel away from my head seconds later. I let my eyes slip open just enough to see him, shaggy brown hair and all. "You're all okay."

"Are you trying to convince me or yourself, Ross?" I try to joke with him. Ryan's eyes meet my own, a sly smile forming on my face. He rolls his brown eyes at me, folding the towel and tossing it onto the nightstand. He lies down next to me, his head right next to my own, but still on a separate pillow. My best friend.

"Both, I guess." He shrugs, twisting his head to look at me. "You scared the shit out of all of us." He comments, kind of stating what I already kind of guessed was obvious.

"I'm sorry about that." I respond honestly, rubbing my itchy eye. He sighs tiredly, ruffling his shaggy brown hair lightly. He looked like he was exhausted in a sort of mental way. Like, I know he slept last night, but he looks like he's been drained from these last few hours.

Once again, all of your fault.

"You don't need to be." Ryan says. "There's going to be some new rules, though." He adds.

"What kind of rules?" I roll onto my side, meeting his eyes easily. Ryan bites his bottom lip and pushes my faded pink bangs away from my wet forehead. He blows out a breath of cool, minty breath before he starts to explain the new situation to me.

"Pete's petrified right now. He wants you to show him any text you receive that isn't from any of your friends or us. Any private numbers are to be answered by only him, Patrick, Brendon, or any one of us, and you are not allowed to go anywhere by yourself." Ryan informs me, closing his eyes for a moment. His matching brown eyes are brighter when he opens them again. "It's for your own safety."

"I understand," I say, because really, what else is there left for me to say? There's nothing I can do about it because it's all in my best interest. My voice sounds raspy and strained, and that's when a flashback of me bending over my arm and screaming bloody murder into Patrick's cardigan, accompanied with the memories of trying to scream months before when Derek drugged me.

"Thank you," Ryan smiles at me, kissing my forehead lightly. "Anyways, it's around twelve or one PM, and we leave at three. I suggest if you need to do anything, do it now."

"Did Pete do my laundry?" I ask, and Ryan nods in assurance. I sigh in relief and watch as Ryan gets back up to his feet. He walks over to the door and shoves his feet into his sneakers.

"Hayley is in the other room." He smiles at me. "I have to pack, so I'll see you later?" When I nod, Ryan unlocks the door and steps out, closing it behind him. I stare at the beige door, remembering for a moment that Derek knows where we are right now. I practically dive off the bed and scramble to lock the door behind Ryan. I breathe when I do.