Patrick Stump \\ It's my fault \\ One-Shot

Hello. My name is Marissa and I am the girlfriend of Pete Wentz.
Yes, I know, this is a strange way of introducing my story. But that way you know everything you need to know about me before you start reading. Because that's all I am. You can ask anybody about 'Marissa'. Believe me, everybody will say 'That girl Pete's with at the moment.'
No one ever cared to maybe get to know who I really am. I just seemed to be one of those bitches that Pete had for maybe one week or two, then throw away and replace with another.
To practically everybody, I seemed like a hoe that would get fucked by Pete occasionally when he was in the mood and then would tell every well-known boulevard magazine about it. But I wasn't like that.
I hadn't even slept with Pete yet. We had been 'together', or whatever you would like to call it, for a little more than a month. And everyone's thoughts about our relationship were obvious.
Pete didn't love me, but he thought I loved him to death, so he didn't break up with me. Yes, he definitely was a casanova. But he knew that girls aren't dolls without any feelings.
I, on the other hand, knew that he didn't love me. And I didn't love him either.
And what everybody else, most of all, Patrick, Joe and Andy, thought, you can answer yourself. They thought that Pete just wanted someone he could get in bed any time, and that I just wanted those few days of glamour that you get for being Pete's girl.
So, I had the hot bassist of one of the greatest bands ever, the one that so many teenage girls practically drool over, as my boyfriend. I had a few minutes of make-believe stardom everytime Pete took me with him on the red carpet.
But none of that was what I actually wanted. I basically only wanted what every over-romantic twelve year old wants as well. I wanted someone that I love the way he is and that loves me back just the way I am.
More detailed, I wanted a very special strawberry-blonde, extremely good-looking guy that wouldnt give away a single one of his hats if you offered him the world in exchange.
I wanted the boy that sang the words my boyfriend wrote. Re-read the last sentence please and tell me what makes it sound so wrong.
I wanted the boy that sang the words my boyfriend wrote. For the slower ones amongst us: I wanted someone different than my boyfriend.
If you've listened carefully until now, a question may have crossed your mind. For the record: Pete didn't love me. I didn't love Pete. I wanted someone else.
Why in God's name didn't I just end our relationship then and go for Patrick?
Simple. Although Pete probably never felt anything more for me than a bit sexual tension, it would have been wrong to break up with him because of his bandmate. His friend. His best friend.
Besides, who ever claimed that Patrick liked me back? Nobody. Exactly. He probably thought just what everyone told behind my back. That I was a filthy whore that only wanted Pete's money and fame. Thanks to whoever spread that rumor though. He/she did a good job at making my situation only more miserable.
And that's the reason why I would not leave Pete. Instead I would stay with him for a few more days or weeks. It wouldn't take more time before he left me because he needed a new 'kick in life' anyways.
I would wait until that moment came. And then I would go back into the hole I crawled out of and forget that I ever knew Patrick or Pete, or anybody of them and their friends for that matter.
Keep quiet.

Six weeks has passed. And nothing happened. No, Pete hadn't broken up with me yet. And you know what? I was starting to feel guilty for lying to him like that.
"Marissa?"
"Hm..?" I mumbled in his chest as we were lying on my bed together, him holding onto me tightly. No, we hadn't done anything juicy. We were both fully dressed and lying on top of the sheets.
"I-I...seriously think that I'm...in love for the first time."
And as he said that, my whole, halfway nice world was breaking into pieces.
This couldn't be happening. No.
I wasn't just about to shatter the heart of one of the nicest people in the world, which had already been scarred so often.
"Marissa..?" his voice shook me out of my thoughts quietly.
"I...I..."
I just couldn't. I couldn't bring myself to tell the final lie and to say that I loved him, too.
Pete looked in my eyes disappointedly. Then he rolled over and slowly got up from my bed. Immediately I sat up too.
"Pete!"
He turned to face me again, still with that unmistakably depressed look in his eyes. He feigned a smile, although it wasn't a very convincing one.
"It's okay, I guess." he mumbled. "At least you didn't lie to me, saying you loved me when you didnt."
As the door to my apartment closed, I became aware that everything was lost now. Everything. He would never call again, not even to say that he wanted to give me the key to my apartment back. I had lost the first and last person I ever had that had made it possible for me to have at least the slightest bit of contact with Patrick.
And in that moment, I felt nausea rise in the back of my throat. All I could think about was me, when I had just broken the heart of a guy that actually loved me. All of a sudden I made myself so sick, I started sobbing uncontrollably.
Nothing comes as easy as you.

Three hours later, it was night by then, my cell phone did ring. But it wasn't Pete like I had hoped. I wanted to apologize to him. For simply everything. Even for not loving him, if you number it among the things I did wrong.
Instead it was Patrick. Normally I would have felt happy to have him call. Not so this time. He told me to come to the hospital immediately.
And what I heard next, tore the crack in my heart a bit deeper than it already was. Pete had just been found unconscious after he had called his mother from the back of a gas station. He had tried to kill himself by swallowing more Ativan than anybody would need in his whole life and then downing a bottle of booze in one shot.
I dropped the phone after I had heard everything.
This was all just my fault.
Can I lay in your bed all day?

On the drive to the hospital, every driver in whole Chicago had seemed to want to bring me down worse than I already was. What practically was impossible. After getting stuck in about four traffics, I finally arrived at the hospital's parking lot.
I didn't even care to lock my car after stepping out. I just ran. Ran, until I had found where everybody was sitting in front of a big, white swing door.
The mood was tense and depressing at the same time, and as soon as I got there, I felt like I better never had. All eyes were on me, and everybody was sharing the same reproaching expression. Pete's parents were there, his brother, his sister, and the band, as well as Brendon and Ryan.
I didn't have to ask to know that Pete was behind this big swing door, probably having one or more doctors fighting for his life. Even if I had wanted to say something, nothing would have come out. I felt as though my throat was laced up. Still, I sat down in the only free seat between Ryan and Patrick.
A few minutes later, though it felt like hours had passed, I jumped up again. I couldn't take this silence and all the quiet disapproval of my presence any longer. And I ran again.
This time, I ran back onto the parking lot behind the hospital. By now it had started raining heavily and a thunderstorm was raging. I broke down on the asphalt and started crying as hard as I never had before. Finally I realized what was happening. My boyfriend ex had just tried to commit suicide. It was my fault. Maybe he would never wake up again. It was my fault.
My tears and the rain mixed as they were streaming down my face. I rolled into a small human package right in the middle of some dirty parking lot. Pebbles were poking in my back and I could have cared less if some truck had rolled me over right now. I felt as if I was lying here for days.
"Marissa?! Marissa!!!" I heard a voice shouting through the storm. I ignored it.
But then it wasn't so easy to ignore anymore, when someone knelt down next to me. Especially when I noticed that this someone was Patrick.
"Marissa..?" he asked, softer.
"It's all my fault..." I whispered.
"That's not true."
"It is... lied to him... such a bitch... he couldn't take any more..." Words came bubbling out of my mouth in no particular order. Strangely, Patrick seemed to understand me. A warm hand gripped onto my shoulder tightly.
"Stop thinking like that! Pete's awake again! He's alive!"
"Alive..?"
"Yes. They were able to reanimate him. He's sleeping right now."
"Not dead..? Haven't killed him..?"
"No, you haven't!!! Believe me, for once at least!!!" I quickly collected myself somehow and stood up. Then I threw myself around Patrick's neck.
"Yes!!!!" I shouted, relieved. He wasn't dead. I'd be able to apologize. Everything was going to be okay. Patrick wrapped his arms around my middle.
Slowly, the rain clouds began to fade. And just when the droplets had almost completely stopped falling, Patrick kissed me.
I didnt protest or question. I simply kissed him back.
And when we walked back into the hospital hand in hand, I knew that everything was going to finally be okay.
I'll be your best kept secret and your biggest mistake.

It's 4:27 AM right now.

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