Pete P.O.V.
I opened my eyes, feeling well rested for the first time in a while.
I looked to see I was sleeping next to Patrick. He had one arm under me. Upon closer inspection, I saw that his eyes were darting around under his eyelids.
I untangled myself from his arm and looked at him again. He looked distressed, even in sleep. I heard a small whimper of ,"It hurts..."
God, I had to get him out of that nightmare. I lightly shook his shoulder. "Patrick, buddy, wake up."
He whimpered, slightly louder this time. "Pete... help..."
Fuck.
I shook his shoulder again, slightly harder. "'Trick, wake up."
"I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die," he said quietly.
He though he was going to die in that fire, oh my god.
Suddenly, he shot up, screaming. I quickly put my arms around him, hugging him.
He pushed me away and ran to the bathroom. I went after him and saw him leaning over the toilet, emptying his stomach.
I kneeled next to him and patted his back. He leaned back and looked at sadly.
"Sorry, Pete," he muttered.
"Don't apologize, man. It's not your fault," I responded.
He shook his head. "It kind of is. I made the choice to go in there."
"But can you tell me why, 'Trick? Why did you go in there? You could have run out of the bus, but you didn't," I pondered.
Patrick shrugged. "I couldn't just let Mark or you guys die. I knew I could do something, so I did."
Patrick P.O.V.
Shit, Pete is asking me about the fire.
No, no, no.
I don't want to relive it. Every time I think about it, the pain comes back.
(Flashback)
The burning, hot pain was beginning to worsen. All I could see was orange and red. I wasn't aware of Pete banging on the door anymore. All I could think was "burn".
I dropped on the ground, right on top of my burning arm. I shrieked and rolled over. Luckily, my clothes didn't catch fire. Yet.
I dragged myself to the corner of the room. I was ready to let the flames take me. Pete wasn't coming to help me. No one was.
I wasn't panicking. I was in too much pain to feel anything else, including emotions.
"I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die," I repeated to myself like a mantra.
My mind started to wander. This reminded me of our song "Death Valley".
"We're gonna die, it's just a matter of time. Hard times come, good times go. I'm either gone in an instant or here till the bitter end, I never know."
I'm in a burning fire, I'm dying, and I'm thinking about Fall Out Boy lyrics.
Wow.
Suddenly, I felt someone hitting my arm with with a cloth. It only made the pain worse, what were they doing?!
I wanted to scream, but it was like the fire was sucking the strength out of me. All I could do was whimper.
They stopped hitting me and the pain didn't go away. It was still there, like a monster trying to eat my arm.
Someone's arm hooked under my knees and another one under my back. I felt myself being lifted up. I cracked my eyes open and saw whiskey colored eyes looking back into mine.
Pete.
Pete did come to save me.
He ran, carrying me, out of the bus. My arm hit the door on the way out and it took all of my remaining energy not to scream at the top of my lungs.
We exited the the bus and, not a moment later, I heard a bang and I was thrown out of Pete's arms.
I hit the ground and everything went black.
(End of flashback)
Pete P.O.V.
He told me everything.
All the pain he was in.
The thought that I wouldn't save him.
I helped him back to his bed. It felt like that was all I had been doing the last week.
He looked like he was going to fall asleep again, but he kept opening his eyes.
He was trying to stay awake.
"'Trick, you need sleep. You haven't had a proper night of sleep in two weeks. Why won't you sleep?" I said.
His tired eyes flickered in my direction. Then he sighed. "Pete, remember when I said I didn't remember the fire because of the concussion?"
I nodded.
"Well, it's kind of been coming back to me in... nightmares. Every time I close my eyes, I'm back in that bus," he almost whispered.
Oh, Patrick, what has this fire done to you?
