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

Chapter Nine: The Best Of Us Can Find Happiness In Misery

I could tell him. I could go ahead and tell Brendon. But it wouldn't end well. I know that Pete will find out, and then everything will blow up in my face.

Don't do it.

"He..." I trail off. Brendon reaches out for my hand and squeezes it tightly. The heat from his body engulfs my hand and buries it in a blanket of warmth. My best friend. I could tell him.

Don't do it.

"Derek..."

Don't you fREAKING DO IT!

"Derek-"

I swear to God, Cole, dON'T YOU DARE SAY IT!

I want to do it. I want to tell Brendon that Derek attacked me. But I don't trust him. I don't trust anyone anymore. He'll tell Pete, and then everyone will find out and I'll be sent home and be forced to file a police report on something I don't have any evidence for and CRAP, I CAN'T THINK STRAIGHT.

"Cole, please." Brendon insists, biting his lower lip ever so slightly.

Think about your brother and his band.

Think about how you'll ruin everything for them.

Just like how you ruin everything.

I could tell him, but I won't. Nobody will ever know, not by my will.

Brendon is one of my best friends, but how could I tell him if I can't even tell my ownmother? And I know him. No matter how much I want to believe that he'll keep this specific promise, he won't. How could he?

I pull my right hand from his grasp and slip out of his bed. I grab my Jansport backpack from the edge of the bed and slip into the bathroom, slamming the door shut.

"Crap," I exhale, pressing my back against the bathroom door. I don't look in the mirror because I bet I look insane and the last thing I need is for my self esteem meter to drop to zero.

I take a quick shower, towel drying my hair afterwards and brushing it out. I braid it to the side like I did yesterday morning and try to pull together an outfit. I end up settling for the skinny jeans I wore yesterday morning and a denim button up rolled up to the elbows.

When I leave the bathroom, Brendon is by the front door, lacing up his black Converse. When he looks up and sees me, he smiles weakly and tosses me my red Vans. I force a thankful grin after just barely catching it and slip the sneakers onto my feet. I pull the straps of my Jansport over my shoulders and follow Brendon out the door.

We lock the door for the final time after double checking that Joe and Ryan collected all of their belongings. We don't speak because we're both thinking to much. Brendon knows that a Derek Skinner hurt me, but I'm sure he hasn't pieced it together well enough to come up with his own conclusion to how Derek did so. He's a smart guy, but the truth of the matter is that he'd never ponder one of the biggest ways Derek could have hurt me. He thinks I'd never keep that from them.

Brendon and I board an elevator, quiet for a moment, before he opens his mouth. "You and Pete are very alike."

I know what he's getting at. I just know that he's trying to make me feel guilty, but the truth is, Pete and I are very alike.

"How so?" I reply anyways, twisting my body to face him and tilting my head to the side. He lets out a weak laugh.

"Well, for starters, you both act so happy in front of people because you think it's easier to be happy than sad." Brendon begins, and I can't help but wince. He's right. Why does the truth hurt so much?

I imagine Brendon stabbing my heart with each syllable that comes from his mouth. It hurts. It hurts too much.

"Secondly, you both hide your problems from people." Brendon continues, another weak laugh with a hint of his own kind of hurt in it.

"Finally, you both let your demons eat you alive. You don't try to get help until it becomes so bad, you almost die." And I know what he's talking about. He's talking about that day.

I don't speak after that. I hold my tongue from making a snarky reply and just think. The elevator doors part for us, and Brendon props his arm against the side of the elevator exit, holding the door open.

"I'm sorry, Cole." He whispers. I shrug my shoulders and avoid his gaze.

The day Brendon was referring to was the day Pete tried to commit suicide. Pete overdosed on his Ativan anxiety pills in a Best Buy parking lot, and dear God, that was the worst day of my life, next to the house party.

I remember it. When Pete's manager called Mom with a story about how Pete phoned him and was mumbling incoherent words and sounded like he was out of his mind, she went crazy. She quickly threw on jeans and Dad's The Beatles shirt and dived out of the house to find Pete before it was too late. Before he died.

And it was scary, me being a teenager. Hearing that my brother attempted suicide and might succeed was terrifying. Luckily, Mom got to him in time and took him to a hospital where he stayed for a couple of days. After that, Mom and Dad made him move back in with us.

"I'm sorry, too." I mumble to Brendon. "I'm sorry that I'm not spilling my guts out to you. I'm sorry that I'm so difficult to read."

Brendon opens his mouth to respond, but I slide through the door and him and march into the hotel's lobby. I needed some air. I needed to be away from Brendon.

"Cole!" Patrick calls my name from across the lobby, where him and Pete are checking the bands out. Our eyes meet for a second before I'm automatically walking in his direction.

I don't realize that Patrick is hugging me until my face is pressed into the fabric of his light blue button down shirt and I smell his cologne

"Hey, how are you feeling?" I know Patrick is referring to my anxiety attack last night, but I pretend that I don't know what he'e talking about.

"Tired, why?"

"Well, you didn't sleep very well last night." Patrick says, pulling away from the hug. I nod and force a small smile his way. At least he was being vague.

"I guess so."

"Hey, tell you what," Patrick smiles his cute smile, his hands on my shoulders. "How about we all go rollerblading? I know you'd love it."

I can't help but grin when he says that, my eyes immediately brightening up instantly. That makes Patrick beam.

"Thank you," I tell him, my lips curved into an easy smile. It's always easier to be happy, right? At least when I'm around Patrick.

"No problem." Patrick says, jamming his fists in his pockets as his cheeks flush cherry red. As if to take the attention off the obvious fact that he's blushing for some reason, he takes his fedora off and props it onto my hair. "We'll all drop our things off on the buses and be on our way."

"Great." I reply, almost feeling a certain someone's glare on the back of my head.

I said, 'I don't care what you think as long as it's about me.'

The best of us can find happiness in misery.

This chapter probably sucked. Lots of Brendon/Cole in this chapter, and a little bit of Patrick/Cole. I ship them. Should we call them Pole, Pale, or Catrick? Omg, put your ideas for their ship name in the comments, haha. I got grounded for like a day which is ridiculous. Haha, but anyways, thank you guys so much so far with all the support. Go check out my All Time Low fic, my KickThePj/danisnotonfire/AmazingPhil/crabstickz fic, or my two very old Marianas Trench fics. Thanks, and bye!