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

Chapter Three: Just A Sliver Of Who I Was

I'm not a hundred percent sure why Andy made me go into my bunk.I have two theories; A) he wanted to protect me from the wrath of Pete Wentz or B) disinterest in what the critics say. Sorry, Panic! at the Disco humour. Makes no sense, too.

But judging by how Pete practically holed himself up in the back lounge, there should be enough proof to support the first theory.

He's been in there for a couple of hours, and according to Joe, the bus is scheduled to stop at the hotel soon enough.

Throughout the next few months of the tour, we were told explicitly that we will not always get to have a hotel for each show. Mainly because there are about three or four days between every show, so it depends on the amount of time we will have in whatever city or town we'll be playing in. And hotels are fucking expensive. Apparently, we weren't able to get a hotel for the previous two shows of the Save Rock And Roll tour, but since this venue isn't too far from the last, we arrived earlier. That means a real bed. And no moving floors.

But still, I couldn't help but feel entirely guilty. I shouldn't be thinking about my own comfort when my brother, the one who wanted me to never go through the same problems as he did, is hiding away in the back lounge, refusing to let anyone in.

So that's why I slip out of my bunk, going against Andy's better judgement, and knock on the back lounge door.

He doesn't answer for a second, but after nearly a minute, Pete tugs the door open, running a hand through his hair.

I stand there, my eyes wide open and staring straight at him. I wanted to speak, but my mouth just wouldn't move. So Pete reaches out and pulls me into him.

"Colby," he mumbles into my hair, squeezing me tightly. I hesitantly wrap my arms around his torso and press ny face into his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," I finally whisper, hoping desperately that he'd forgive me for what I've done. He pulls away and looks me dead in the eye. Wentz to Wentz.

"Please, tell me what's going on." He pleads, raking a hand through his dark brown locks. I bite my lower lip and rub the back of my neck as if it was sore.

"I can't." There was no point lying to them now and saying that I'm not hiding anything. They all found out about my cutting. I wouldn't feel the need to release pain for no reason.

"Why not?"

"You'd hate me if I told you." I say truthfully. Of course, there's the whole rape culture thing. It wasn't my fault. I never did anything wrong. But of course, people will bring up things such as, 'well, she shouldn't have tempted him,' or 'was she dressed revealingly?' or my personal favourite, 'boys will be boys.' I can't tell you how many times I've heard that line.

It all comes back to me. I did something that provoked Derek into attacmjng me. I didn't give him what he wanted. Maybe if I had just given him what he wanted, he wouldn't have had to take it. If I ever did bring this to court, the publicity Fall Out Boy would get would be horrible. I'd ruin my brother's dream.

"I wouldn't, Cole, and you know that I'm speaking the truth." Pete tells me, but still, I shake my head.

"You know, can we just drop this? I promise I'll tell you. Just not right now." I promise him. He looks like he wants to push, but this? This right here is the closest he's ever got to me talking about that night, and just the idea of me telling him eventually is a milestone enough.

"Alright. Go pack an overnight bag for the hotel." Pete tells me, reaching forward and ruffling my hair. I shake my head and pull away from his hand, a laugh escaping from my mouth. Pete lets out one of his own and reaches forward, jabbing his fingers into my sides.