-1I hate him Patrick thinks to him self as he stands around the photo shoot while Pete chats up the cute blond photographer and at the same time is being told over and over how good he looks. It made him physically sick to his stomach. He looked at over with a big grin. At that moment both know that he was going to be getting laid tonight. And Patrick, HA, Patrick hadn't had sex in over 6 months. I'm a pathetic waste of life. He mumbled

"Patrick what do you think of these shots?"

"There fine Pete." Correction he thought to him self, he's fine I look like shit. Maybe if I could manage to loose 50 pounds but that's unlikely. I hate the fact that he never takes a bad picture. For once I wish that he would get in an accident nothing serious or any thing but just mess up his face for a while or have him gain like 100 pounds. Then Mr. pretty boy wouldn't be so damn cocky. The thought brings a smile to his face.

"What?"

"What, what?"

"What are you smiling about?"

"Nothing"

"Come on I want to know."

"Its nothing…really."

He looked at Patrick concerned. You couldn't blame him Patrick hadn't been him self lately. He had been an ass to Pete the past few weeks. And on top of that he had been over stressed. This just hasn't been his year. To make things worse Pete knew it and he wanted to talk (it's all that fucking therapy). He opens his mouth to say some thing to. Probably some thing alone the lines of, 'Come on tell me what's up.' or 'You wanna talk.'

"I'm going to get out of here I have work to do."

"You wanna grab a drink first."

"No."

Pete didn't get an explanation. Patrick just left him standing there most likely wondering what he did. Joe said some thing to him as he walked out the studio and headed down the stairs. But Patrick didn't catch it.

Pete paced the studio. He was worried about his friend. The boy who had become his brother was now grown up and this made Pete feel helpless. He couldn't very well go to his dad and tell on him like a small child. And what would he say. 'Make Patrick talk to me.' No that wouldn't do. He was Pete Wentz he would think of some thing.

"Joe, what the hells up with Patrick?"

"I don't know I asked him where he was going but… he ignored me."

"You think he's ok?"

Andy and Joe just shrugged. The two of them couldn't help but think that this was how Pete had acted when he over dosed. That was a scary thought, mainly because non of them could tell what Patrick was truly capable of. Patrick was complicated and Pete was the only one who had any real insight into Patrick's mind.

Andy sighed. "Maybe we should talk to him, we really don't want a repeat of…well-"

"My suicide attempt, Andy you can just say it. I'm better now."

Silence fell upon the group.

"You two cant tell me that you think he actually would. It's Patrick he has more common since then that."

"I don't know Joe would you have guessed that Pete would."

It was true the news about Pete had completely blind sided them.

"Give it a few days." Pete said suddenly. "If things don't change or I cant get him to talk then we'll do what we have to do."

They all nodded, they couldn't help but worry.

Patrick walked into his dark cold and lonely apartment. By now it was 10. He left the light off and walked slowly into the bathroom. He set his glasses on the counter on washed his face with ice cold water. He dried his face with the towel and through it onto the floor. He stared at his round pudgy face in the mirror. His eyes fell upon his razor. He picked it up and turned it over in his hands eyeing it like it was some foreign object. He lay it back down and left the bathroom. He would be full of shit if he said he never thought about letting those steal blades eat through his skin. Hell he thought about it quite often. Truly though he was to scared, of the pain of what people will say. So he didn't, he would ignore that little voice in his head that said do it, and it might feel good. Stripping down to his boxers he reentered the bathroom turning on the shower head. He crossed his arms in front of his chest as he waited. He walked over to the closet and pulled out a scale.

"Do I really want to know?" He asked out loud.

He stepped on, then numbers climbed up and finally stopped. A mixture of anger and sadness flashed through his body. He touched his soft stomach and sighed. I need to get this weight off me. He thought. His phone was ringing in the other room. Not bothering to get it he slid open the shower curtain and stepped inside letting the hot water scold his body.

Patrick used up all of his hot water before he willed him self to get out of the shower. Which he masterly did with out looking at his body in the mirror. Making a mental note to him self to get rid of that accused mirror that loved to point out and high light every one of his many flaws. He hit the play button on his answering machine.

"Tick its me..." I know who it is Patrick thought aloud. "So look I know you've been a little down lately and all. So tomorrow we're going to grab some lunch. No excuses you hear me. Or so help me god I will drag your ass out of that apartment." Patrick stretched and crawled into his big empty bed. He lay staring up at the ceiling before sleep captured his body.