Keep Me Out Of Trouble (FOB FanFic ft. Brendon Urie)

Chapter 7

I stood in Jane and Christian's kitchen, the phone pinched in between my ear and my shoulder as I flipped through a phone book I had found in their office. I hadn't used a phone book in forever, hell, I didn't think anyone had.

I was skimming through the pages, looking for Pete's number since I didn't have my cell phone and didn't know his number. I used to know it by heart because he would call me all the time and his number would always show up, but over the course of those long four years, it'd slipped my mind.

I just felt like he should at least know I was okay after all he had done for me. Besides Jane, Pete was the only person in this world who still gave a shit about me. If he didn't, he wouldn't have been there to pick me up when I was released. He wouldn't have let me stay with him when I had no home to return to. He wouldn't have lied to the police about knowing someone who would have motive to kill Brendon. He was truly my best friend and I felt like it was the least I could do to say goodbye to him.

I found his name and set the phone book down on the counter, punching the numbers into the keypad and put the phone up to my ear. It rang a few times before someone picked up.

"Hello?" Bronx's voice sounded on the other end of the line.

"Bronx?" I asked, my eyebrow raised.

"Uncle Patrick? Where are you?"

"Uh...I'm...I'm at a friend's house."

"Where did you go last night?" He continued to interrogate me, "You missed a lot. Brendon was stabbed."

"Oh my god, he was?" I tried to act surprised to hear this. Because as I far as I was concerned, Bronx didn't know that it was me who had committed the crime.

"Mhmm. In his dressing room. The scene was horrible, blood was everywhere." I bit my lip as I imagined the scene in vivid detail, seeing as I was part of it at one point. "But luckily he's okay."

My eyes widened, "Wait, what?"

"Yeah. I mean, he's in pretty rough shape, but the doctors say he's going to be okay. Or at least, that's what I overheard."

Oh my god. Brendon survived. I didn't kill him. He was still alive. And that meant...once he recovered...oh no. Shit.

"That's...That's..." I struggled to find the words to respond to him, "That's..."

"Good?" Bronx attempted to complete my sentence.

"Yeah, that's it," I muttered as my heart began to beat a little faster. I ran my shaky hand through my hair, "Hey, uh, is your dad there? I really need to talk to him."

"No, sorry," He replied. I pounded my free hand down on the counter, immediately regretting it. "He left with Saint to go somewhere."

"Do you know when he'll be back?" I inquired, starting to pace back and forth in a sad attempt to calm myself down.

All of this had gone wrong. Hell, it went wrong the second I pulled the knife out on Brendon. But now I was totally fucked, more than I was before because Brendon was still alive. He could tell everyone it was me who stabbed him and, without a doubt, get me imprisoned again. Or better yet, executed. 

"Uh...he didn't really say. I could give you his cell phone number, though, if what you have to tell him is really important," Bronx offered.

"Y-Yeah," I stuttered, nodding my head although he couldn't see me, "That would be great. Thanks, Bronx."

"No problem. Just let me pull it up on my phone..."

*****

"...what do you mean you're not coming back?" Pete's voice sounded on the other end of the line. He told me he was just on his way to the hospital, and although he didn't directly tell me, he was going there to see Brendon. I mean, who else would he be going there to see?

"Pete, I can't stay here," I told him, walking around the kitchen in circles, "It's just not safe."

"But I can help you. I'm gonna find a way to make it so that people never find out that it was you ...unless it wasn't you." I swallowed hard, my silence was just as valid an answer as me verbally responding to him. "Oh my god, Patrick..."

"Pete, I-"

"What did I tell you?" He yelled at me, "I told you to move on! Time and time again! Now look what happened because you couldn't."

"It's easier said than done," I grumbled, leaning back against the counter and heaving a sigh, "I tried, Pete, I really did."

"No you didn't."

I bit my lip, "I wanted to."

"Wanting to and actually doing are two different things."

"I know!" I snapped, "Pete, I wasn't thinking straight. Okay? I just...I wanted to talk to him. Give him a piece of my mind. So I went into his dressing room once you were gone and then when I found him, he was making out with some slut. He was cheating on Elisa. Cheating on her! All the anger, all the hatred I had towards him just...I couldn't hold it in any longer. I just...I had to."

"You had to. You had to stab him with a fucking knife twelve times? Not to mention that it was my knife?"

"Pete, I...I'm sorry."

"You're sorry? Patrick, you almost killed him, for fuck's sake!"

"And I thought I did. I didn't know he survived, I swear. That's why I have to leave. I just...I needed some help before I actually left."

I heard Pete groan before asking, "What do you want me to do now?"

"You don't need to do anything. You've done enough. I just...I wanted to say goodbye to you, since I'm never going to see you again."

"Don't say that."

"Why?" I shook my head, "I can't show my face around here, Pete. I show my face and there's no doubt that I'll be put in handcuffs and taken straight to prison. Or you know, they won't even imprison me. They'll just inject me with lethal drugs or electrocute the hell out of me until I'm dead."

"Stop talking like that. I'm going to see you again, Patrick. Because not seeing you, it's...it's not an option." There was a slight pause before he continued, "I'm going to get you out of this. Just...you have to give me a little time. I mean, people are acting like they've never met you before..."

"Pete, I don't need-"

"I'm doing it, Patrick," He interrupted me. I rolled my eyes. "Because I'm the only friend you seem to have left and I'm going to be there for you, since no one else seems to be. I'm not letting you go back there. I'm not." Got to love Pete and his stubborn ways.

I sighed, "I appreciate that. But...I've already made up my mind, Pete. I didn't call you because I wanted to you to change my mind or assure me you can help me get out of this. You've honestly helped me more than I'm ever going to be able to repay you for. I just wanted to call you to tell you that I'm going to be okay and that I'm going to miss you and the boys."

"Patrick, no, please!"

"Goodbye, Pete." I pressed the end call button on the phone, cutting Pete's screams for me not to hang up short, and heaved a sigh, hanging my head as tears began to blur my vision. I walked back over to the receiver and placed the phone back in its cradle.