sarahariel13 (sarahariel13) wrote in dead_on_fic,
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Alone On A Valentines Day


 Title: Alone On A Valentines Day
Author: SarahAriel13
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Peterick, Joncer, Ryden, Frerard, and Mikey/Alicia
POV: Third, Pete-centric
Warnings: Character death, suicide, boy love, and depression

Disclaimer: Don't own, pretty sure that was obvious considering I'm not a slave driver, and they're not slaves. Atleast, not that you know of....
Summa
ry: The gravestone loomed before him as it had since months before. The name carved in the gleaming ivory cut into him more than any razor ever could. Patrick had always said he was self-destructive. And what else was he expected to be when his best friend, soul-mate, and golden ticket had left him?
Dedication: To one of my closest friends who doesn't have an LJ, Jaimee. Happy Valentines Day, love!
Notes: This is my first Bandom fic, and I'm a bit unsure of the posting process, but here it is!

The gravestone loomed before him as it had since months before. The name carved in the gleaming ivory cut into him more than any razor ever could. Patrick had always said he was self-destructive. And what else was he expected to be when his best friend, soul-mate, and golden ticket had left him?

All that was left was a shadow of what once was. A mirror image of a happy facade. Insides were turned to ash, and as the cold, wet wind blew away the dead leaves, so did what seemed to remain of his last shred of hope for more. More of what, he didn't know. Maybe more what he once had. Maybe the love he had so readily let slip away.

He had loved him, he really had. But, he was Pete Wentz. And Pete Wentz didn't have the ability to love without harm. Maybe he did once, but after the drugs affect, his conscious dissipitated it seemed. So what did it matter if he had disappeared from the Earth, leaving a dusty mark that had faded since Fall Out Boy? The world could never have given Patrick what he had deserved.

The clouds were getting darker, Pete observed. It would rain later. What a dreary Valentines Day. As if the sun could have made anything better. Patrick was gone, and anyone expected him to be happy? What delusions...Gerard and Brendon understood. They saw what he saw. They felt it too. That utter sense of loss? The one everyone thought they felt when their boyfriend or girlfriend broke up with them? They felt nothing. Pete, Gerard, and Brendon did.

It had been nearly six months ago now, but time was irrelevant. It had been on the way to of those red carpet parties no one really enjoyed. Patrick, Frank, and Ryan had stayed at the hotel, claiming headaches. If they had went, who knew where they would be now? Maybe alive. That wasn't the way things went down. The hotel they were in was gunned down. Thirty four men from some cult had broke in and went through the rooms, shooting anyone they came across. Being rock stars couldn't help them then.

"Ryan wanted a bouquet of black, blue, and red roses one year. I eventually found some, but it was about a week late. He couldn't believe I actually found some, and he freaked out. That was the first night he said he loved me..." Brendon murmured from the grave beside Pete. Pete tilted his head thoughtfully.

"Black roses? Interesting." Gerard nodded his head, greasy black hair splayed wildly across his face.

"I remember that. You called me because you thought I'd have some on hand." Brendon shrugged. Since Ryan, his personality did a 360. Where there were once smiles, bubbles, and laughter, it was like talking to a stone wall. No emotions, no change, and certainly no bounce. Gerard lost his will. He was still a symbol for kids everywhere to not give up, but he had given up himself. What was My Chemical Romance without Frank? It was empty. Ray had given up on trying to talk to Gerard, but Mikey sometimes called to check in. It didn't help. Mikey knew that.

Jon and Spencer? Spencer went into a shell after Ryan's death, and Jon threw himself into his own solo projects. They did nothing to help Brendon. Not that he wanted any help. He was fine with sinking into his mind and remembering Ryan.

It only made sense that the three would stick together. They all knew what the others were feeling. It seemed as if they were the only ones. They knew they weren't.

"I hate him. I hate him so much." Pete growled mutely. Gerard merely raised an eyebrow, and Brendon didn't even look up.

"I used to be my own protection, but no, not now! I'm fucking broken! I can't even sleep, I can't breath, and this wind is fucking with me!" He grabbed them by their collars, pulling them in, his face suddenly venerable.

"Do you hear it? The whispers...It's his voice. Do you? Do you?" Brendon's head suddenly shot up, a wide smile lighting up his face that hadn't smiled in ages.

"You hear them now, don't you? They've been talking to me. They tell me we'll be joining them soon. Doesn't that sound fun?" Gerard looked at the two with narrowed eyes.

"You mean that they're real?" He gave his vampire smile. "So I'm not bat-shit insane."

"We should go meet them. It is Valentines Day, you know. We wouldn't want to be late." Brendon murmured, still grinning. Pete smirked, something he hadn't done in months. He nodded and reached into his pocket, pulling out a small hand-gun, Gerard and Brendon following his lead. They all raised them slowly to their temples, Pete to his heart.

Patrick was cold, and emotionless. He was thinner than usual, and wasn't wearing a hat. He was lying in a black coffin that somehow resembled the one from their 'Sixteen Candles' video. Pete thought that it looked like home. Maybe because Patrick was there.

They all went in a synchronized order, each leaving words hanging in the air. Brendon went first, beaming the entire time, even as he bled out on top of Ryan's grave.

"When I say shotgun, you say wedding. Shotgun wedding, shotgun wedding..."

BANG! Down, down went Brendon.

They had a preacher which Pete didn't understand. Patrick was atheist. He wouldn't have wanted a preacher there. He droned on and on about someone he'd never even met. Pete wanted to punch him. He wanted to run up to the coffin and crawl in with Patrick and have him wake up.

"Know how much I want to show you, you're the only one. Like a bed of roses, there's a million reasons in this gun." Gerard had on his vampire smile, kneeling on Frank's grave. He had a doll in his other hand, and Pete recognized it as the Frank doll that one fan had made him.

BANG! Ashes, ashes, we all fall down...

It was even worse when they began to lower the coffin. Pete didn't do anything too dramatic like running up to it and climbing in like he wanted too. He just smiled, because Patrick was beside him, laughing at the preacher, talking about how fabricated religion was. Patrick made it better.

"You said, between your smiles and regrets: "Don't say it's over."
Dead and gone. The calm before the storm set it off, and the sun burnt out tonight.
A reception less than warm set it off. The sun burnt out tonight."

Patrick always made it better.

Mikey was the one who found them the next day. He merely shook his head and smiled up at the clear sky, dialing 911. They weren't suffering, and who was he to make them live in torture?

It wasn't heaven, and it wasn't hell. It was a field. A field that went on forever with a single cottage in the center. Inside that little cottage was a large family. All in love, all happy.

"I love you, Ryro!" Brendon yelled, jumping on Ryan's lap. Ryan laughed and nuzzled his face into Brendon's neck.

" 'ove 'ou, too." He mumbled.

Jon and Spencer sat cuddling on the other couch, channel surfing and giggling.

"Gerard!!! Where'd you put the coffee?!" Frank whined, tugging on Gerard's sleeve.

"I think it's in the microwave...or the fridge." He added thoughtfully. Frank giggled and kissed his cheek.

"Kay! Love you!"

"I love you, too, Frankie." He said dreamily, staring after the short blur.

Mikey watched the exchange with a content smile, arm wrapped securely around Alicia's waist.

"Sing to me, Patrick?" Pete asked hopefully, snuggling closer to Patrick.

"Sure, Pete." He began to sing "Stairway to Heaven" and Pete was almost asleep when he heard the whisper.

"Happy Valentines Day, Pete." Pete smiled.

"Happy Valentines Day, Patrick."

It had been years since they'd been alone on Valentines Day.


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