Run Away With Me (FOB FanFic)

[Chapter 20] I Was Just A White Blood Cell, Fighting Like Hell For You

-Patrick's POV-

Four days.

I stood at the foot of the hospital bed Stella was lying in, my arms crossed over my chest as I stared at her.

This was all my fault and if I just was home more, like I knew Stella wanted me to be but never told me, we wouldn't be here right now. She never told anyone who meant anything to her about how she felt. I'm sure she told all the people she'd befriended while I was gone, though, the people who helped her get to this point.

Just then, there was a knock on the door. My head snapped in its direction and I saw one of her doctors standing in the doorway. "Mr. Stump," The doctor greeted, entering the room, "You're here."

"I haven't left since I came here," I gravely replied, returning my attention to my comatose-like girlfriend.

"Well, I'm sure Miss Marin appreciates that," The doctor retorted to segway into what he really wanted to talk about, approaching my side, "Speaking of Miss Marin, we're concerned about her vitals. You see, she hasn't gotten any better since you've arrived. With how things are looking, I highly doubt that she will."

My eyebrows furrowed together and I glared over at him, "What are you saying?"

"I'm just saying that...at some point soon, you're going to have to consider-"

"Pulling the plug?" I cut him off, angrily finishing his sentence. The doctor gave me a grim look. "Look, you don't understand! That's the love of my life right there! It took us forever to get together and now that we're together, you're telling me that I need to pull the plug on her?"

"I did not say-"

"I love her, I love her more than anyone will ever know or understand, and I'm not going to give up on her. She wouldn't give up on me and I'm not going to give up on her."

"Mr. Stump..."

"Don't you 'Mr. Stump' me," I sassed him back, "I'm not doing it. Period."

Three weeks.

As much as I wanted to stay by her side twenty-four seven, I couldn't. My life couldn't be put on hold any longer, not with where I was with the band and all. I had music to make, tours to go on. I couldn't stay cooped up in a hospital room, waiting for the day that seemed like it was never going to arrive.

I wasn't going to give up on her, though. Not yet. Not ever.

Five weeks.

When I wasn't there, she flatlined, but the doctors were luckily able to revive her. She was going to live another day, she was going to make it.

Twelve weeks. Three months.

The same doctor begged me to consider taking her off of the life support she was on, telling me it'd end her misery.

"End her misery?" I repeated.

He didn't understand. He didn't realize that ending her misery would spark my own. Yes, I know it was selfish, but I didn't want to be miserable. Who would?

"Mr. Stump, please!" He cried, "It's been months! She hasn't showed any signs of improvement. She's nearly died more times than I can count on my fingers. Keeping her alive is pointless!"

Fourteen weeks.

His words hung over me like a cloud.

Keeping her alive is pointless.

"Patrick, are you alright?" Pete asked me as he sat down across from me. I was sitting in one of the arm chairs at the studio in the lounge room. My head was in my hands and my gaze was locked at my feet, a single teardrop hanging on the tip of my nose.

"I just want her back," I murmured, blinking and causing another tear to replace the one that had fallen to the floor.

"We all do," Pete replied softly, "But, Patrick, you've got to admit, she's more than likely not going to get better." I looked up at him, my vision blurred. "As much as you and I want to see her again, alive and well, the chance we'll be able to is so slim that I don't know how much longer you can keep her around."

I shook my head, "You don't-"

"Get it? Patrick, I do. We all do. But you need to learn to let go. Sometimes to move on, you need to let go. Because she's holding you back."

"But I don't want to let go," I sniffled, "I want her to wake up."

"I do too, but it doesn't seem like she's waking up anytime soon, Patrick. So why don't you give it a break? Live and let go."

Twenty-four weeks.

I sat by Stella's bedside, her cold hand in between my warm ones as I swallowed hard. "Stell, I don't know if you can hear me or not, but I love you and I always will. Don't ever forget that, okay?"

I didn't get a response, not that I was expecting one...

"I just wanted to let you know that...that I'm leaving," I muttered, swiping my thumb across the back of her hand, "I'm going to L.A., with Pete and the guys. I don't want you to think this was an easy decision, because it wasn't. It's just...everyone keeps telling me that you're never going to wake up. And at first, I argued them on it. I believed with every bone in my body that you were going to make it. But it's been half a year, six months. And you still haven't gotten any better. Your heart rate hasn't even picked back up to a semi-normal rate. I just can't stay here anymore, Stella, you've got to understand," I paused for a moment before adding, "That is unless you show me a sign, then I'll stay. But if you don't, I'm gone."

I glanced up at her pale, thin face, hoping with all my heart for that sign. But she remained unresponsive, the only sound in the hospital room the slow beeping of the heart monitor she was attached you.

Tears flooded my eyes as I dropped her hand and stood up, pulling out my small notebook, the one I told her time and time again she'd never see, and tucking it underneath her rag-like hand.

I walked over to the door and stopped in the threshold, looking back at her and her lifeless body. I bit my quivering lip and turned around, guilt eating away at my insides with every step I took out of the hospital.

Keeping her alive is pointless.