not falling apart ≫ fob + 5sos

( thirteen ) pete

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My arms sprawled out, my body forming the shape of a cross, the comforter was pulled down to my waist, my chest exposed to the cool air that blew through the room.

Flenching back, I jumped, my heart rate soaring as a crinkly plastic wrapper contacted with my face, my eyes shooting open.

"Time to get up, emo boy," Patrick said, smiling as I looked down at the blueberry muffin he threw at my face.

"God, Patrick, you gave me a heart attack! I thought that wrapper was something else."

Patrick's eyes flickered away from me and towards Amethyst, soft breaths escaping her still sleeping body. My mind flashed back to last night, the conversation that had taken place.

"I'd rather you hate me than you be dead,"

"Don't hold your breath, Amethyst."

I groaned, falling back onto the bed and rubbing my hands over my face. "I hate having attacks."

"You really need to shave under your arms, Pete," my best friend remarked, trying to lighten my mood without success.

Thrusting my thumb in the direction of Amethyst, I shook my head, "I can never do that in front of her again. Never. Even if it means throwing her in the hallway, i cannot hurt her. I'd never forgive myself and Joe would never forgive me."

Patrick sighed, heavily. "Pete, it's not just not her that you have to worry about."

He slowly heard out his arm to me to reveal a long, red, scratch, that ran from his forearm to his wrist. "You get violent, Pete. You kicked Andy in the eye."

My heart sank, and my stomach dropped. I felt my hands start to shake, and I sat up in the bed, shaking my head back and forth, and back and forth.

"I didn't do that."

I was trying to do everything in my power to not rip my black hair out of my head.

"I didn't do that," I repeated, my voice sounding distant.

"Pete," Patrick said, softly, "you couldn't help it. You didn't know what you were doing. At least I don't think you did."

"I'm so sorry," I whispered, drawing my legs to my chest, "damn it, Patrick, I'm sorry!"

I heard the sheets rustling from the bed beside me, Amethyst's eyes opening.

I buried my face into my knees, locking my fingers around my head.

Anxiety was something that I was never able to deal with on my own along my depression. Medication was needed to keep my mind in check, but ever since my first suicide attempt, I didn't trust myself with pills. Besides, if I decided I wanted to end my life, there were many other ways to do it.

"Pete, Pete it's okay, you can do this you can fucking fight through it Pete." Amethyst spoke up, her voice serious, with a tinge of sleepiness.

"Don't say that until you absolutely know," I mumbled. I lifted my head, my eyes scanning the room.

Andy and Joe were nowhere to be seen. "They are going to talk to Ashton and the guys," Patrick said, noticing my searching gaze.

A crooked smile full of pity covering his face, he stepped closer to the bed, reaching down to the floor to grip my black shirt between his fingers, throwing it against my chest, "As in I imagine they'll be over here soon."

I smiled a genuine smile at my best friend before slipping the shirt over my head, covering my bare chest.

"Thank you, Patrick."