Andy sat back on the couch while Patrick changed the channel on the TV they were hardly watching, save the occasional glance at the monitor every now and then. They had been talking about Pete and Willow Avenue for an hour. It was now reaching eleven.
"I mean, we've got to check it out, haven't we?" Patrick said. "Just to be sure."
"Is it crazy that I kind of hope he's right?" Andy said quietly.
"Um…yes."
"Well, I just hate seeing you two fight," Andy said. "You're normally inseparable. If he's right, you'll be best friends again."
Patrick bit his lip. "We're still friends."
"Really?" Andy said quietly. "He doesn't seem to think so."
Patrick looked down and frowned. "Holy smokes, Andy."
"Exactly," said Andy, and, almost as an afterthought, put a hand on Patrick's shoulder and said, "Hey. He'll come around."
Patrick smiled a little and nodded, but he still looked worried.
Andy pushed a little on Patrick's shoulder. "Lighten up, Patrick, Brendon and Dallon are visiting from LA tomorrow!"
Patrick immediately brightened. "Oh yeah! Maybe they'll check out Willow with us."
"Danger, risk-taking, and possible death? If Dallon Weekes doesn't want to check that out, then my name isn't Andrew Hurley," Andy said, getting a grin out of Patrick.
Pete paced in front of the couch that Joe sat on, in the middle of ranting animatedly. He waved his hands around, getting deep into his story as he was finishing.
"—and then they tell me they don't believe me and now they're probably going to check it out and they're gonna get kidnapped or—or worse—and if that idiot gets himself killed I don't know what I'll do!" Pete ranted.
"By 'that idiot' you mean your best friend? The one you can't stand to be apart from? The one that's closer to you than any of your siblings? The one you've made up ten million nicknames for? The one that you'd take a bullet for? That idiot?" Joe said, raising an eyebrow at Pete. "The one you just left when you claim he's in insane danger?"
Pete stopped short and looked at Joe.
"Well?" Joe asked.
Pete groaned and fell back into the chair across from Joe's couch.
Joe watched his friend nervously.
Pete tilted his head towards the ceiling and closed his eyes. "So you think I should make up with him?"
"I think you should tell him you're trying to help," Joe said.
"I tried!" Pete said, looking at Joe. "I tried, but he wouldn't listen! He thinks all of this is a joke and it's not, it's the exact opposite of a joke! He is in deep, deep, trouble."
"I know, Pete, God I know," Joe said softly. "I'm worried about him too. Brendon and Dallon are visiting tomorrow. We can talk it through with them. If Bren and Dal believe you, Pat will too."
"But what if they don't?" Pete said. "What if no one believes me until one day, Patrick 'mysteriously disappears' and they've taken him to do God knows what? What if they've killed Patrick before we can get there to save him? What if when we get there he's just lying there…covered in blood…and we're…and we're too late…" Pete faltered, putting his face in his hands.
Joe stared at his friend with a concerned look on his face. Pete was genuinely worried for his best friend's safety, and that was good, but he was getting worked up over it. Just from the look on Pete's face, Joe could tell he was making up a horrible scenario in his head, one that didn't end well at all.
"You need to sleep, Pete," Joe said gently, standing up. "You've had a long day. You can crash here."
"Thanks," Pete said. Joe left him to the couch and went to his room. He lay down and closed his eyes, slipping almost immediately into a calm sleep, at least until the nightmare started.
Patrick paced in his room, thinking hard. If Pete was right, their lives were screwed. If Pete was wrong, their friendship was screwed. Patrick wasn't sure if he could decide between the two. He eventually broke the choices down to either die with Pete or live without him. That didn't help at all.
Of course, he couldn't control it. Either Pete was wrong or Pete was right. He couldn't decide. And of course, Patrick had a tendency to overthink things.
Patrick decided to handle it in a way he understood.
Music.
He sat down at his piano and began to write. As he did, he muttered aloud to himself. "Something about—no, scrap that, centuries? That sounds dramatic...what the heck, why not. What rhymes with told? Gold! Gold rhymes with told."
Three hours later, he had written a complete song.
Some legends are told
Some turn to dust or to gold
But you will remember me
Remember me for centuries
And just one mistake
Is all it will take
We'll go down in history
Remember me for centuries
He-e-e-e-ey ya, oh he-e-e-e-ey,
He-e-e-e-ey ya,
Remember me for centuries
Mummified my teenage dreams
No, it's nothin' wrong with me
The kids are all wrong
The story's all off
Heavy metal broke my heart
Come on, come on and let me in
The bruises on your thighs like my fingerprints
Is this supposed to match
The darkness that you felt?
I never meant for you to fix yourself
Some legends are told
Some turn to dust or to gold
But you will remember me
Remember me for centuries
And just one mistake
Is all it will take
We'll go down in history
Remember me for centuries
He-e-e-e-ey ya, oh he-e-e-e-ey,
He-e-e-e-ey ya,
Remember me for centuries
Can't stop till the whole world knows my name
Cause I was only born inside my dreams
Until you die for me
As long as there's a light
My shadow's over you cause
I, I am the opposite of amnesia
And you're a cherry blossom
You're about to bloom
You look so pretty but you're gone so soon
Some legends are told
Some turn to dust or to gold
But you will remember me
Remember me for centuries
And just one mistake
Is all it will take
We'll go down in history
Remember me for centuries
He-e-e-e-ey ya, oh he-e-e-e-ey,
He-e-e-e-ey ya
Remember me for centuries
We've been here forever
And here's the frozen proof
I could scream forever
We are the poisoned youth
Some legends are told
Some turn to dust or to gold
But you will remember me
Remember me for centuries
And just one mistake
Is all it will take
We'll go down in history
Remember me for centuries
He-e-e-e-ey ya, oh he-e-e-e-ey,
He-e-e-e-ey ya
Remember me for centuries
This was the song he sang until his voice gave up and cracked. He collapsed onto his warm, inviting bed and only managed to take his shoes off before falling asleep on top of the covers.
Pete's nightmare started out as a dream.
All his friends were hanging around in Joe's kitchen. Gerard, his hair blue today, was talking to Dallon and Andy animatedly, using his hands a lot the way that he did. Joe and Brendon were comparing Taylor Swift and Katy Perry. And Patrick sat next to Pete on the counter, grinning and watching Brendon and Joe.
Pete smiled, just from being next to his best friend. Patrick nudged Pete with his elbow and jokingly said, "Who do you think is better?"
"Katy Perry, man," Pete said happily. "Have you heard 'Roar'?"
"Everyone in their right mind has, Pete," Patrick said, nudging him again.
"Very true," Pete agreed.
Suddenly, the room went dark.
"What's going on?" Pete said, but no one answered. "Hey? Anybody?"
Silence.
"Gerard? Brendon? Andy?" Pete said. "Joe? Dallon? Patrick?"
Not even his best friend answered him.
Then, the lights flickered back on and he was alone.
"Guys?" Pete asked. "Guys, this isn't funny."
Suddenly, Pete was in a different place. Coffins lay in a circle around him, all of which the lids were labelled. One lay different than the others, kind of making it a power symbol. This coffin's lid lay open. Pete dreaded what he would find inside. He decided to start with the one behind him.
Gerard Way, it said. Pete swallowed and went to the next one.
Brendon Urie.
Dallon Weekes.
Joe Trohman.
Andy Hurley.
All the way around to the open coffin. Pete knew exactly who lay inside it.
Patrick.
His face was pale and sunken in. His green eyes were open wide. There was a little bit of blood drying on the corner of his mouth. Pete choked and stumbled back, and he opened his eyes to the darkness of Joe's living room.