Two

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"I swear to God, I'm going to kill him!"
Brendon was pacing the the floors of the hospital lobby. And he was positive that he was going to kill Pete. As soon as they let the bastard out of that damn examination room.

"Baby-"

"Dont you fucking baby me!" He snapped at Ryan. Who was sitting in a chair watching his boyfriend fall apart. "I gave him one job. One fucking job!"

"You can't kill him." Ryan sighed and stood up.

"The hell I can't!" He mumbled.

"You can't." He said again. Grabbing Brendon to stop his from pacing. He tilted his teary eyes up to stare at him. "You would get caught without a doubt."

"I don't care-"

"I care!" Ryan shook him slightly. "I need you here with me. Not rotting in some jail, becoming someone's bitch."

"I need Patrick here with me!"

Brendon finally broke. He'd been strong for so long. Almost two hours of pacing, threatening Pete and snapping at random doctors who happened to pass him. He couldn't avoid it anymore he had to cry. He was going insane trying not to.

Ryan snuggled Brendon into his arms. The smaller man fell apart in his hold. Unable to even stand up straight. Ryan held him tighter and lifted him off the ground. Holding him to his chest, bridal style. Oh how ironic.

He sat down in the chair again. Bringing Brendon with him in his lap. Brendon wrapped his arms around Ryan's neck and hid his face in his shoulder. Ryan rubbed his back soothingly.

Brendon wasn't big on crying. He tried to do it as little as possible. And Ryan wasn't used to having to comfort a crying man. But he'd do anything for Brendon. If Brendon needed to be comforted for hours, Ryan was going to sit here that long.

"It's okay, baby." Ryan cooed in his ear soothingly. "Patrick is alive. You heard what the doctor said. He's breathing. His heart is beating. Everything's going to be alright."

Brendon didn't respond. He just sniffed a few times. Digging his face deeper into Ryan's shirt. He could feel his tears staining the taller man's shirt. He could also feel his nose beginning to run. That would probably stain Ryan's shirt too. Great! Now he was emotional and embarrassed. Why did your nose have to run when you cried?

Ryan sensed Brendon wasn't in the mood to respond. But he was going to continue talking to help calm him down. He wasn't sure if that's how it worked though.

"Brendon, baby, shh." He continued rubbing his back. "It's all going to be okay. He's going going to be okay. you're going to be okay. I love you."

Brendon still didn't respond. Ryan sighed and glanced up. Pete was walking over to them. He looked terrible. Black eyes, broken nose and a swollen top lip. There was a bandage surrounding his head. His eyes were dark and empty. Like he wasn't even aware of what was happening around him.

"Pete?" Ryan asked. Trying to get his best friend's attention.

"Pete?" Brendon sat up in his lap. He took a few deep breaths to quiet his crying. Lifting the hem of his shirt, he used it to wipe his face clean.

"Bren-" Ryan started.

"No." Brendon stood up and walked to stand in front of Pete. "This is your fault!" He poked Pete in the chest. Pete winced. "You were supposed to make sure he didn't get hurt! You were supposed to watch out for him. You almost killed him."

With every word, Brendon hit him harder and harder in the chest. Pete didn't speak. He just looked at Brendon with the same dull stare. Ryan stood up and grabbed Brendon's hand.

"Enough! He's in pain."

"I'm in pain!" Brendon snatched away from Ryan.

"Stop being so damn self centered." Pete finally spoke. It was a low, monotone voice.

"Excuse me?!"

"I don't care how you feel, Brendon. I don't care if you're hurting. This isn't about you! It's about Patrick." He pushed his finger into Brendon's chest now. "Don't you think I feel bad enough? I was in the fucking car with him. Not you. I heard him scream. Not you. And I held his fucking body until the ambulance arrived. Not. You!"

Brendon's nostrils flared. His eyes lit up with anger. Ryan quickly stood between the two.

"How is he?" He asked Pete.

"He's stable. He still hasn't woken up yet. But the swelling in his brain has gone down. The doctor's think he's going to make it. B-But they're not sure of the exact brain trauma. He could wake up with memory loss or-"

"Or not wake up at all." Brendon finished. Pete's eyes closed briefly.

"Mr. Wentz?" He turned to see a uniformed police officer approaching them. "Are you supposed to be out of bed?"

"No." Pete admitted.

"After this talk I'm going to have to ask that you return to your room."

"You could ask I guess." Pete shrugged.

"Do you know of anyone who may hold a grudge against you or your husband?"

Ryan almost laughed. Almost.

"There's a few I can think of. Why?"

"Because we just finished the check on your vehicle. It was tampered with."

"What?"

"Someone sabotaged your car."

"Someone did this on purpose?!" Brendon growled.

"I'm afraid so."

"I-It wasn't entirely my fault?"

"No sir. It would have been impossible for anyone to stop that car. Someone set out to kill you and your husband."

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