I Will Not ~ Patrick

[Patrick Stump]

HELLO, I SWEAR I WON'T BE TOO LONG
HELLO, I PROMISE I'LL BE REAL STRONG

Patrick laid there, silent, for a while. It felt like forever, but in reality perhaps it was a minute or so. But for that small forever he felt.. okay.. He could feel himself dozing off, and the only thing that partially brought him back was her voice. He really couldn't tell you what she said, or what was going on at the time. "What...?" His speech was a bit slurred in this state, and he opened his eyes. "Wh.. Muppet? Wha..." His stomach lurched again as his vision spun in circles and he closed them again, his body relaxing against the ground, his hands still quivering, his knees still weak. "Dance... Dance..." He chuckled slightly, less than a half-hearted laugh, and he coughed a few times, groaning slightly when she moved him. "Mmm..." He relaxed a little more when he felt his head on her hoodie, finally feeling a bit more comfortable.

His head throbbed with pain, his bruises aching and sore. He gasped for breaths and opened his mouth to speak, resulting in heavily coughing a few times. "One....." He barely opened his eyes, and just stared forward, everything turning a bit blurry, objects doubling before he couldn't take it anymore. He closed his eyes and groaned a bit, shifting himself after pain shot through his body, causing a drawn out time of discomfort. "T... two... Three?" He questioned himself for a moment, slowly blinking and glancing around, then closing his eyes again. He sighed, his chest jerking with the breath, a heavy wave of exhaustion coming over him.

It was a fight to stay.. awake? Yeah.. awake, if it was even being awake. He wasn't sure what was going on. He didn't really remember why he was laying on the ground, how he got there, why he felt like he was going to throw up, or why he was suddenly so tired. "..... four..." His responses were becoming slower, his speech slurring more than the last time he'd spoken. Hesitantly, he opened his eyes and lifted a trembling hand up to touch the side of his head, small bits of blood drying on his fingers. " fi-.... five"

[/center]

[Pete Wentz]

[/b] Pete said, falling down to his knees beside Patrick. "Wha the fuck happened?" Pete asked, his eyes wide. He could see blood on Patrick, and something had obviously occured here, and then he looked at the girl who was with him... Brodie. Pete looked down at Patrick again, who seemed to be losing consciousness. "Fuck, no, Patrick. PATRICK!" Pete said, attempting to keep the boy awake. He looked around for Charlie and Andy, and for a second he considered calling them but then he looked up at Brodie again, and then he started putting two and two together... He knew Brodie could be violent if provoked, especially if someone told her what to do.
"You," Pete said in a low voice, standing up to face her. "You did this," Pete said. "You fucking bitch," Pete growled, looking down at Patrick again. "I FUCKING TRUSTED YOU, I FUCKING TALKED WITH YOU - YOU DID THIS, YOU FUCKING HURT HIM!" Pete said loudly, now attracting attention. Pete saw Charlie and then Andy, who both came over toward the scene. "YOU FUCKING DRUGGED UP BOOZY BITCH! YOU FUCKING TOOL! WAS THIS ANOTHER OF YOUR FUCKING STUNTS?" Pete asked, trying to control himself although it wasn't working well at all. "YOU FUCKING CUNT, YOU DIRTY FUCKING CUNT!" Pete shouted, attracting yet more attention to the scene. "WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM? WHY PATRICK? WHY DID YOU FUCKING ATTACK HIM? WHY HIM?" Pete asked. Normally, Pete wouldn't even shout at a girl like this, let alone totally lose his cool with one, but Patrick was Pete's best friend - the only person Pete felt truly understood him, and here Brodie was, clearly having attacked him. "I'M GONNA FUCKING FUCK YOU UP!" Pete snapped, stepping forward as Charlie grabbed him, some one had already run off for the medic. "GET OFF ME!" Pete raged.[/color][/size][/blockquote][/ul]

[Brodie Dhonchaindh]

Trashed and Scattered Again.

[/b] She told him as she found the number and pressed dial. She was shaking now, her hand on his shoulder was shaking because she was terrified that something was going to happen. He was hurt, seriously hurt and she didn't quite know how to deal with it, luckily she had been here before with people in fights. Experience had taught her what to do. Even if she hoped she would never have to.

She held the phone to her ear and was about to speak when Pete suddenly appeared out of no where. She looked at him, the expression of shock on his face and froze. Oh dear god. She looked at her and it was just that look, she knew he was pissed and she was half expecting him to question what had happened right away. But she hadn't been expecting this. The phone dropped to the ground, tumbling across the grass.

She moved away slightly, taking her hand of his shoulder as Pete began yelling and Brodie just sat there for a moment looking like a rabbet caught in the headlights. He had it wrong, he had it all so wrong. She was shaking this time out of fear. She had never been faced with someone this angry before. this out beat all the foster parents who had blown up at her for stupid stunts as a kid. She just looked at him, and shook her head as he yelled.

The words hit her more than anything else. The words from his lips felt as if he had actually just hit her, she could feel her breath hitching in her chest. She moved away from him again, frightened at what he was going to do. He could lash out at any moment, as much as she was good in a fight Brodie was no match for a very pissed off 27 year old man with sheer anger.

She was shaking her head but there were no words. Nothing was making the connection in her brain between the words she wanted to say and actually saying them. Another attempt to move away from him and Brodie could feel her heart in her mouth, that horrible fight or flight response as adrenalin flooded her body.

The words hurt more coming from him than anyone else. Just because she thought he was alright and to hear those words from someone you looked up to. From the person who's CDs you'd bought when you were younger and listened to thinking; 'I wanna be like him.' Was soul crushing.

She just sat there on the ground, shaking her head as words finally stuttered out; "no, no I didn't do it, I didn't do it...I was trying to help him." She said quietly like the scared little kid she was. "I was trying to help him..."[/blockquote][/ul][/size][/color]

[Patrick Stump]

WAIT UP, I JUST WANNA TELL YOU
HOLD UP, WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE?

It was terrifying. The entire situation. He closed his eyes, the darkness flooding everything. His vision, his thoughts... perhaps even his consciousness for a brief second. Everything was going in and out of focus. The voices, the feelings, the pain. An old fashioned movie, where dust hit the tape strip- little black flecks hitting the screen that was already black and white. "... six.." He stopped there, hearing footsteps before everything zoned out again. For a brief second he thought he heard his name, perhaps a familiar voice... but everything was so fuzzy, so broken up that it was impossible to tell. The screaming. Oh- the screaming. It pounded in his head, throbbed with the pain. "stop... stop.. stop..." The words were mumbled and slurred, fuzzy- just like his thoughts. "stop.. stop.." It was the only thing he could say right then. Just stop. Nothing in particular, just everything. Make everything stop. "STOP" It was loud, sudden, and unexpected- even for himself.

His entire body quivered, gently shaking as he forced his arms beneath him, trying so desperately to push himself off the ground. He kept his eyes closed, only opening them if he absolutely needed to.. the dizziness was too much. He knew. Oh yes, he knew they were yelling about him. That was definitely Pete, but he couldn't hear Brodie. It was like she was gone, disappeared in the midst of confusion. "Wher-" He stopped and peeked open his eyes, smiling slightly when he saw her. "The... there... you are..." Nearly inaudible, mainly mumbled to himself, and he took a shaky breath, continuing to attempt at standing up. His knees were shaking, they wouldn't stop. He gasped as they nearly buckled beneath him, but with all his power he tried to keep himself up, even if it wasn't quite standing yet.

Patrick inhaled, a sharp and slightly desperate gasp, and he forced himself up on to his feet, his knees clearly trembling. He stumbled forward a step, closing his eyes tight, and grabbed the front of Pete's shirt. His face was swollen, the entire right side, black, purple, and yellow covering the upper part of his cheek, just beneath his right eye, down to his ear and lower temple. "She didnt..." It was the only words he could get out... He was barely on his feet, just barely. His knees were shaking furiously, and if he let go of Pete... well.. he'd probably just collapse again. His eyes were barely open, shallow breaths taken, and everything was spinning so fast. So, so fast. Why he'd done what he had, he really wasn't sure. The whole ordeal had been none of his business in the first place, but if he'd done nothing... He really wasn't sure. Maybe she was able to hold her own better than he was, either way, he couldn't have just stood there and watched. A bruise. Tombstone souvenir.

[/center]

[Pete Wentz]

[/b] Pete said, looking over at Brodie. "Fuck, I'm really sorry, Brodie..." Pete said as the medic ran over to them. Pete somehow found himself pulling Patrick toward him though for a hug, shutting his eyes as he did so. He had totally lost it when he thought Brodie was responsible for what had happened to Patrick, and even if he hadn't found Brodie there and he'd found someone else he probably would have accused them just to have someone to point the blame at. He looked over Patrick's shoulder at Brodie, and he felt a rush of incredible guilt. He hadn't expected that reaction from her at all. He has expected some smart ass response, definitely not for tough Brodie to disappear into her shell. Pete stepped back, holding onto Patrick still as the medic tried to usher him away but Pete didn't want to leave him.
"I'm not leaving him," Pete said, looking at what had happened to Patrick's face, and he looked back at him. It must hurt like hell, and he wanted the medic to take care of him but he wasn't going to leave him either. "Patrick, can you walk?" Pete asked. He hadn't apologized to Brodie enough yet, he really would have to get on his hands and knees for this one. That was what happened when people jumped to conclusions, he supposed. Pete stepped away from Patrick briefly as Charlie went to hold him, and he bent down to Brodie.
"I am so, so sorry," Pete said to her. "I just... I... I thought that maybe the alcohol and... and... Brodie..." Pete said. "I didn't know... I thought... Patrick's my best friend, Brodie... I'm so sorry," Pete apologized, over and over again.[/color][/size][/blockquote][/ul]

[Brodie Dhonchaindh]

I'm Feeling So Low.
My Blood Is So Cold.

[/b] She asked quietly, her voice shaking as she shifted on to her knees, looking around for that stupid phone. [/blockquote][/size][/ul][/color]

[Patrick Stump]

WHY DO YOU WANNA BE ALL LISTENING TO ME
WHY DO YOU SPREAD YOUR ARMS AND TELL ME I'M FREE

Things were coming back in to focus... slowly, so very slowly. He smiled slightly when Pete and Charlie held him up, his head tucked toward his chest, his breathing turning to a soft pant. He closed his eyes when Pete hugged him, standing there, unmoving- clutching the front of Pete's shirt as tight as he possibly could. "I... I-I'll be... fine.." His words were still slurred together, making his lie quite obvious. It wasn't that big of a deal.. was it? All he did was get hit in the head. It's not like he was dying. Patrick glanced up when Pete let go of him and in return he released Pete's shirt, his knees trembling once again as Charlie held him up. His memory of the incident was vague, but at this point, he didn't really care what had happened. As soon as Pete walked away from him, he felt swarmed by medics. Sure it was only two, but the poking and prodding was irritating. Like a bunch of buzzing flies.

Patrick sneered, slightly, quietly refusing to lay down again. Damn it, he just finally got up off the ground, there was no way he was laying back down again. He coughed once or twice, winced, and someone grabbed a metal chair, forcing him to sit down in it. By then both medics were continuously checking on him- heart beat, lungs, sight.. Then came the fun part- the wounds. They weren't very big, no, the gash on his temple and the cut on his cheek. He closed his eyes again, sighing, his breathing still a bit off from where it should be. No major damage done, but he was hit just in the right spot... and just hard enough to send his body into shock. He nearly yelped, reflexively tugging away from the medic when he touched just above the wound. Many "I'm fine"s were muttered, though his vision was still a bit hazy, and he really wasn't sure if he'd be able to hold himself up to walk. He was still trembling with fear, his body shaking gently as well from the throbbing pain that pulsed throughout his entire body from the force of the punches he'd received.

He really didn't want to go to the medical tent. As one of the medics took his blood pressure [why, he wasn't sure, but.. whatever] he stared forward, the dizziness a bit subsided for the moment, but that didn't mean much. He felt horrible, physically, and perhaps emotionally. This was all his fault- or so he thought.. Maybe if he hadn't followed her behind the tents, maybe if he'd mentioned something about her drinking before she'd gotten buzzed off it- things would've went differently. There were plenty of What Ifs... but they didn't quite happen. He glanced at the medics as they each continued to poke at him, one having disappeared for the moment and the other was tending to the cut on his cheek. It was sore, quite sore, the bruise having become rather sensitive in the past half hour? hour? He wasn't sure how long it had been since the "fight", and he didn't quite care. Slowly he closed his eyes again, Charlie standing behind him with his hand's on Patrick's shoulders, keeping him steady in the chair.

Another sigh, his entire body quivering slightly with the exhale. For the most part, he just hoped things didn't stay this way. But who knows how long this would last. The frequent dizziness, the falling over. He listened quietly to what the medic had been explaining to Charlie bit it was only a few moments before it didn't care to listen any longer. "Minor head trauma, quite minor, but just enough to send his body into a state of shock."

[/b] He sneered and opened his eyes a little, glancing around at the people who were now watching them from the tents, the medics, Charlie, Pete, and Brodie. "We're not quite sure of the full extent of the damages, but his vitals are stable.. now... but because of the shock, that could change...." How could Fall Out Boy perform if he was like this? It'd be impossible. It's not like he could sit up on stage, in a chair, feeling like he was just on a merry-go-round going fifty miles an hour, playing guitar, and singing into the microphone. It'd be crazy, and with the bad luck he was having quite recently, he'd probably forget the words... or pass out on stage. Another frustrated sigh escaped parted lips, and he tipped his head back a little, staring at the sky for a moment before closing his eyes again. "He'll probably need to be checked on often for the next day or so.. but if anything worsens- the dizziness, the vomiting, the unstable balance- anything. Come to the medical station immediately." He wasn't quite sure if anything else was said from there between Charlie and the medic, because at that point.. he just didn't want to listen to it anymore.

Patrick was just, trying to get over the reality that he'd actually gotten in a fight with someone. He wasn't really sure why. But of course, at some point, the police would probably get involved.. or something ridiculous like that, and he'd have to tell the story a hundred times. Then the media would come chasing after him. Whoo-rah, the now infamous Patrick Stump got into a fight at Tombstone Festival. Over what? Nothing in particular. Really nothing at all. He wasn't a hero, he wasn't a victim. He was just... what? Protective? Maybe that was his reasoning behind it. He had yet to really figure it out.

It didn't seem like long until his eyes snapped back open, the sudden wave of light irritating them slightly. He looked around, eyes finally falling on a female medic who had patted his other cheek, now standing in front of him. "Can't be fallin' asleep on us now." She said with a smile, gloved hands holding onto a tube of sanitizing cream, bandages, cotton balls and a few other things he couldn't quite recognize. He winced and groaned slightly as she began cleansing the wound by his ear, and he sighed, quietly whispering "I'm sorry"s, then closing his eyes again.
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[Pete Wentz]

[/b] Pete asked in a quiet voice. He looked around at Brodie again, wondering whether or not he should ask her to come back. Looking down at Patrick Pete looked concerned, he too was beginning to wonder how on earth they were going to play. But, of course, there was nothing for it. He stood up and walked over to Andy, saying something quietly before he looked at him again, nodded and headed back to Brodie.
"I think you better to come with us and tell us what happened," Pete said as the medics continued to work on Patrick, one saying his vitals were stable. Pete knew that they would all be hounded by the media, but no one actually knew what had happened right now. They'd probably be some lie written up on the internet or something like that, but only three people out of everyone in the world actually knew what had gone down here. One of which had left, one of which was incapable of even staying awake right now, and the other seemed incapable of registering anything Pete said.
It felt like possibly the nearest thing to Anarchy ever, to Pete. Seeing Patrick like that... it was nearly heartbreaking. Pete had been so desperate to point a finger when he'd seen it he'd jumped to the conclusion that it was Brodie. It was much easier to believe someone had done wrong than to believe that someone had done right. Much, much easier to believe someone was lying than to believe someone was saying the truth. [/color][/size][/blockquote][/ul]

[Brodie Dhonchaindh]

Play Your Game.
Then Walk Away.
You Integrity Don't Mean.
SHIT!

[/i] She guessed that naivety hadn't really worn off yet. It was still the way she saw it - there was no God. There couldn't be.

After that he had gone mental, called her a devil worshiper and snapped. They just couldn't cope with her. No one could. On her own she let everything fall, that cold bitter exterior, the violence and the hate. Was nothing with no one to take it out on.

She just couldn't take it out on the person she put up on a pedestal and saw as a role model. Of course people would think she was insane enough for that. But...she saw him as someone who had been trying to sort his life out, someone who was succeeding. She had all their CDs, dispute being the punk rocker that she was, it was her little guilty pleasure.

She took her phone back in silence, she didn't have anything to say. She didn't want to say anything as she stood up, just avoided his eyes, avoided him, tried to kid herself he wasn't there. Pocketing her phone she grasped the bag in her pocket, she closed her eyes for a moment, composing herself. Back to being Brodie. Back on guard. Oh she found her happiness on a thick white line, in solitude and comfort. A deep breath, a look around.

Noticing the people she knew that it would be everywhere. Everyone would start talking about it, of course Brodie was pretty sure they would pin it on her; 'Crazy Phyco Beats Up FoB Star.' She sighed gently, looking like she had somewhat calmed down and followed Pete.

In reality this was really her fault anyway.

He might as well yell at her.
[/blockquote][/size][/color][/ul]

[Patrick Stump]

SO THIS IS THE TIME WHEN YOU BE WHAT YOU JUST WANNA BE
I ALWAYS THOUGHT THIS WOULD COME OH-SO NATURALLY

He was nearly falling asleep again, everything was becoming so distant. The voices, the sounds, the noises, the lights... Everything was so... quiet. But- of course- as soon as he'd come close to dozing off, that pretty little brown haired, blue eyed medic would come back over and gently pat him on the cheek, perhaps whispering his name and telling him that he needed to stay awake. But it was so hard to stay awake... So hard.. He wasn't comfortable, sitting up in a metal chair, but he wasn't quite uncomfortable either. Feelings just kind of melded together when a wave of exhaustion hit him like a ton of bad news- and he'd drift off for a few moments. Then she'd come back. He'd smile occasionally and lift his head whilst mumbling something along the lines of "Okay", but then he'd go right back to trying to sleep. Patrick winced, letting out a rather strange yelp, and the medic snapped her hand back. There was silence, and stillness until she reached out and gently rubbed his back, patting him on the shoulder before whispering "I'll be right back", and walking back toward another medic, and grabbing a few more supplies. Carefully he reached up and barely touched the wound by his ear, blood drizzling down his cheek and coating his fingers. Pain surged through his head, creating yet another dizzy spell. He breathed deep, squinted eyes staring down at his blood smeared hands.

Patrick glanced over as the medic quickly plucked things from her kit- tweezers, more bandages, more antiseptic, a few more cotton balls, and some kind of antiseptic wipes. He watched as she made her way back and she handed him a wipe, allowing him to clean his hands off. She grabbed the cotton balls and the antiseptic, then began to clean around the wound once more. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, quite closely, often flinching and mumbling "ow" as she wiped around the injury. She glanced toward Pete, at the question, and nodded- pausing what she'd been doing, to reply. "I'm not sure if you'd heard Tyler or not-" She glanced over at one of the other medics who'd been cleaning up their supplies and putting them back into a black bag marked "PARAMEDIC" on both sides. "Yeah- you can take him back. He'll probably just need to be checked on for a bit, in case the symptoms get worse. " She patted him on the back again, offering a reassuring smile. "But he should be just fine."

A sigh- and a wince, as she began to clean his wound again. It seemed like it was taking forever- then again, it was his head, and who knew what the hell kind of crap got on it from laying on the ground. He looked up at Pete, but quickly glanced away, becoming quite guilty with his friend's expression. Silently he begged that Brodie wouldn't say anything about what had happened. It was obvious Pete was going to get upset, considering the fact that he'd already flipped out, and with the whole story, he'd probably go hounding off trying to find the guy who'd punched Patrick. He'd make up a lie. If that kept Pete from worrying so much- and perhaps even kept him from starting a war. None of them needed any more worry and stress than they were already dealing with. He closed his eyes, his entire body tensing up as he felt the tweezer tip brush against the open wound. He swallowed hard, pain surging through his body. Slowly he glanced down at the wipe in his lap and he rubbed his hands on it, carelessly ridding his skin of the dried up blood that was stuck to them.

He didn't have anything to say. He just stared down at his hands in shame, taking his time as he rubbed the wipe between his fingers and massaged his palms with it, trying to concentrate on anything but what the medic was doing to the wound. A sharp inhale, and he licked his lips, their pale color slowly coming back to a pink hue. He turned his head slightly after she'd secured the bandage with white medical tape, and he sneered, the tape and bandage creating a rather uncomfortable tug on his sideburns. She smiled at him, but he didn't speak, he just glanced to the ground as she walked away. It was for those few moments that he felt... alone... Why alone, he really wasn't sure. All those people around, and he felt alone. Sitting in the middle of it all- but for some reason that unwelcome feeling hovered over him for quite some time. Please Brodie... just dont... The thought pounded in his head for quite some time as he watched Pete walk over to her, lips moving, but a small rush of dizziness came over him. He looked at his sneakers, eyelids lowering, saving himself the energy rather than straining to try and figure out what Pete was saying.

Suddenly the medic reappeared, this time with another medic- the one she'd pointed to earlier. Tyler? Yes, Tyler. It was silent for a few moments, and he just stared at the ground, feeling their eyes on his back. With a sigh she crouched down, knees bent, hovering above the ground. "Can you stand up?" She spoke quietly, just loud enough for him to hear her. "Uh... I... think so." He whispered back and she stood up, nodding to both Charlie and the other medic. Hesitantly, he stood up- only for a few moments before everything started to spin. Very carefully, she reached out, resting her hands on Patrick's shoulders, keeping him steady as he stood. He closed his eyes, his head pounding from the dizziness. "How far is the bus from here?" She questioned in a rather worried tone, but Patrick didn't open his eyes. "Uh- uhm.. I.. I don't know.." He stuttered, every word sending a shot of dizziness through his mind. After a short exchange of words the other medic was off to find Pete. Slowly he eased himself back into the chair and covered his face with his hands, his elbows digging into his legs. "Can you tell me what happened? For the incident report..." His eyes flickered open, growing a bit wide as he peered through his fingers.