"Dear Hiatus..." (Sequel to A Living Hell) // Fall Out Boy

My Love is a Weapon (Varying POVs)

*Patrick's POV*

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I laid in my bed, my arms and hands crossed over my forehead. I sighed, then rolled over on my side. I was sick of being stuck in here. Its been about two weeks, maybe more, since Courtney allowed the four of us to see each other again. Ever since then, I've been stuck in here, not really seeing much of anyone, actually. Not even Courtney or her helpers.

Truthfully, I just want someone to come in here, even if it's to hit me, slap me, do whatever to me! I just need to see someone, I need human contact. I feel like I'm going insane, I don't want to end up like Joe. The poor guy, I'm surprised he's still hanging on. I'm constantly worrying about him every day, wondering if he's still alive, wondering if he's done anything to himself. I don't know if he is or if he's done anything to himself, and that kills me.

Of course I'm worried about Andy and Pete, too, but they seem to be holding up better than Joe, who is deteriorating with every day that passes. I'm so worried about all of them, but I can't do a thing about it, and that also kills me.

I rolled over onto my back again, putting my arms over my stomach and sighing once more. I turned my head when I heard my door creak open, and my heart started beating faster. I heard Courtney's heels clack against the concrete floor before I saw her face. Once the sun from the window hit Courtney's face, allowing me to see it, I sat up on my bed, trying to control my fear.

"Hey," she said in a normal tone.

"Hey?" I said, almost in a question.

"How're you?" she asked.

"Um, good," I said, getting a confused look on my face. "Uh, can I ask you something?"

"Anything," she smiled - yes, smiled.

"Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?" I asked.

She sighed, then said, "Well, believe it or not, I actually feel really bad for what I've done to you guys. I can't let you guys go, though, at least not yet, but I thought of something that would maybe help you all get through what I've done."

"What is it?" I asked.

She put her pointer finger up, letting me know that I needed to wait until she got back. With that, she left my room, her heels clacking down the concrete hallway floors. A short while later, she came back in. My mouth nearly dropped down to the floor when I saw what she had in her hand.

"Here," she smiled, handing me my signature Stump-O-Matic guitar.

I took it from her, looking over it to see if she'd done anything to it. It seemed to be okay, so I returned my stare to her, getting another confusing look on my face. I soon turned my stare to one of her workers bringing in an amp, though, but as soon as she left, my stare returned to Courtney. She chuckled at my confused face, then sat back on the edge of my bed.

"Look," she said. "I just thought that giving you your guitar would help pass the time or something, or help you get your feelings out if you haven't used the journal."

"W-Wow," I said. "Um, I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," she said, patting my back in a sympathetic way. "So," she said, standing up and clearing her throat. "I'm going to go. Have fun with your guitar."

And with that, she smiled and left. I sat there on my bed, hopelessly confused out of my mind. Why on earth Courtney was being so nice to me, nice enough to give me my guitar, I had no clue, but I wasn't necessarily complaining either.

"Thank you!" I shouted as I ran to the small window in the door to my room. I heard her heels stop against the floor, then pick up again, and I knew she'd heard me.