SCPS. Secure. Contain. Patrick Stump

Chapter 3

Patrick yawned. I woke up. I had somehow undressed through the night and ended up in a pair of shorts and one of Patrick's shirt. Nothing happened as I remember, we fell asleep listening to records he'd chosen  for us. In all honesty, it was perfect. I looked over at the spot where Patrick layed, his hair ruffled to a perfect mess. He was snoring and I could see his pearly white teeth through his parted, light pink lips. I sighed, looking over at the clock. Three-thirty. My brain was going to take some time falling back asleep. Then it occured to me. Where's my bra? I flipped the covers off me swiftly, not even making the vocalist that lied next to me move at all. What had I forgotten? I don't know. I wish I had recorded it. What the hell was going through my brain. I moved to grab what I thought was my bra hanging from Patrick's chest-of-drawers. My leg ran into the side of a table, sending a piercing pain running up my leg and stopping right at my FOB tattoo. Had Patrick SEEN this? Oh good holy God. I bit my lip, consequently making me wince. "You okay over there?" Patrick had woken up to the sound of my pain. My hands immediately covered my chest and turned around. "I'm fine. Morning." I could feel my chest heaving against my palms as I walked towards the armoir. "Am, it's three-thirty in the morning. Why don't you come back to bed?" Patrick's voice sounded muffled. I looked over my shoulder, seeing his face descending to the pillow. I turned back towards the chest-of-drawers and grabbed my bra. I managed to put it on under my shirt and began to focus my eyes on something. I noticed the brouchures for SCP tomorrow. Why would Patrick do this? I can't even understand what really got into him. "Maybe this is all in your head." A familiar voice came from nowhere. "And this isn't actually happening." The voice became more familiar. Just as I recognized that it was Pete Wentz's voice, a miniture version of him appeared on top of the chest-of-drawers. "All in your head." He emerged wearing a red clandestine jacket and then another Pete Wentz came from the opposite side, wearing a white clandestine jacket, but still the same amount of eyeliner. "No way, man. This real." The good Pete Wentz retorted. "How do you know? You're a figment of her fucking imagination too," Jerk Pete said. "Is this a dream?" I responded. "Is it?" They both replied. I just shrugged. "Let her find out on her own you weirdo," Nice Pete said. Then Jerk Pete replied, "Hey, fuck you!" "Hey now, I believe both of you need to chill the hell out," I whispered loudly. "Amy..? Um, bed?" I turned around to see Patrick had leaned up and was looking over at me. "Um, yeah, right." I rubbed my eyes a bit and walked carefully over to my side of the bed. I leaned against the side and Patrick just fell over, making me giggle. Then I turned back to the chest-of-drawers where I saw Jerk Pete Wentz threatening to punch Nice Pete Wentz in the face. I figured that this was a sign that I needed to go to bed.

I laid there for a good bit of the storm, watching them disappear from my vision. I picked up my phone and looked through my contacts, looking for Pete's number. I knew I had gotten it awhile back, at some award ceremony. He'd given it to me and told me to contact him if Patrick had ever "gotten out of hand." I was lying in bed nervously at this point so I decided to text him.

Amy: "You know about the trip, right?"
About thirty seconds later.

Pete: "Yep."

Amy: "Why?"

Pete: "Why what?"

Amy: "What possessed him to do this?"

"What made him think this was a good idea?"

Pete: "It's too late now."

I looked over at Patrick, who now had his back towards me. I pulled the blankets over us. The air had become cold and it wasn't just me who'd felt it. Even in his sleep, we still seemed to do the same. I knew it hadn't been the A.C.; the power was still out. I bit my lip and turned back to my phone.

Amy: "What does that mean?"

This time the response took five minutes to return. It wasn't long, so I was beginning to wonder what was possibly being kept from me. Either that, or Pete was up drinking.

Pete: "Amy, he signed up for it. He just did. I can't tell you much more than that, because I don't know for sure."

Amy: "What are you speculating that you aren't telling me?"

And then thread went silent.

Pete never replied, and I felt restless. I managed to get back to sleep, but I woke up so many times from the wind and the thunder. I looked through the loose white curtains Patrick had hung over a large window in his room. I'd begun to shake, and I guess Patrick had felt it, because he rolled over and wrapped his arms around me.

I was sober and this was happening. I blushed deeply, but laid there enveloped and confused. How did I manage to just let this happen so swiftly with no recollection? I put my hand to my mouth. What had happened?  I began to panic, but Patrick managed to pull me closer to him, close enough to feel him breathe against my neck.

This was something I'd always wanted, but never thought it'd really ever happen. But, it had. I closed my eyes and began to just breathe deeply. Patrick was right next to me and I'd begun to relax. I slowly closed my eyes, somehow blocking out the loud claps of thunder and the brightest lightning strikes the area had ever seen.

The power randomly kicked on and the light on the bathroom was the only one that turned on. This woke Patrick and he stirred, and I acted like I was asleep. He got up to turn the light off, then I felt him sit down on the bed. I began to panic and wonder if he regretted anything we did, if he remembered anything we'd done since I didn't. He sat there for a few minutes and I almost started to say something when I felt him lay down and envelope me in his arms again. I didn't question anything, I just went back to sleep.