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

Chapter 11

I was staring into the mirror in the front hallway, taking in my new appearance. I didn't even recognize me.

"Are you going to just stare at yourself forever or are you ready to go?" Christian asked me, sounding harsh.

Whether that was intentional or unintentional was a mystery to me. I really couldn't read him anymore. I'd seen his weakness - and that weakness was a girl called Jane.

Deep down, underneath his hard exterior, he was soft for her. And right now, helping me, he was conflicted. He didn't want to help me, but at the same time, he did. I think he knew about Jane and me, how we were close, a little too close, and that's why he didn't want to help me. But I told him that helping me would make Jane love him again, and he believed me. Enough to convince himself go through with all of this, at least.

I heaved a sigh and turned away from the reflective piece of glass hanging on the wall. "Yeah, I guess I'm ready to go."

"Then let's go. My friend's waiting." Chris brushed past me and out the front door. I bit my lip and looked back over my shoulder.

This was it.

I was leaving and I wasn't coming back.

I wasn't going to be me ever again. I was going to be someone completely different.

I couldn't see Jane. I couldn't see Pete, or the boys. I couldn't see Elisa, or Declan. My own son. I couldn't see my own son.

I had to all start over...again.

And to think, all of this was just so I wouldn't get caught for a murder I attempted but didn't even succeed in. That's how good I was. Accused and convicted of a murder I didn't commit but not yet accused of a murder I tried and failed to commit.

I spun around and walked out of the house, closing the door behind me.

*****

"Alright, you ready?" The girl behind the camera asked me. She had her hair pulled back into a loose ponytail and she wore blue scrubs. I assumed she was one of Christian's coworkers. She looked quite nice, and not at all like you'd suspect her of producing and distributing fake IDs. Apparently she did it all the time, according to Chris.

I nodded my head and the girl looked down at the small screen, counting down from three with one hand, the other hovering over the camera, ready to take the picture. When she folded her last finger down, the camera flashed and I flinched.

You'd think by now that I would be used to the camera flashes, but those four years changed everything for me. I completely forgot what it was like to be wanted to be seen by people, to be wanted to have pictures taken with, to be liked. The only person who seemed to genuinely like me there was Jane. I had a few guys who liked me as well, but it was for all the wrong reasons. Everyone else could care less about me.

The picture appeared on the small screen and she frowned, "Oh, that looks horrible."

"You sure it's not just him?" Chris chimed in from across the room. He was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest and his head tilted back. I shot a glare in his direction.

"Let me just take another one," The girl responded, meeting my gaze. "Is that okay with you?"

I once again nodded my head. She counted down and the camera flashed.

I'd never tried so hard in my life to keep my eyes from closing (actually, take that back, I have...but I don't want to talk about it).

The photograph developed on the small digital camera screen and she smiled, "Much better." She detached the camera from the tall tri-pod and told Chris it'd be just a few minutes for her to create the card. But before she left the room, she handed me a notebook and a pen. "I'm going to need a name, an address, and a birthday. The rest, I've got."

I took the two things into my possession and the girl disappeared into the next room.

I set the notebook down in my lap, keeping the pen in my hand. I bit the cap as I thought of a fake name for myself. It wasn't easy, I'd never really had to consider this before. Pete, on the other hand, was great at this. He did it all the time when we were younger, especially when the band first started getting popular. He got a kick out of pretending to be someone he wasn't.

Christian made his way over, looking over my shoulder, "So who are you going to be?"

"I don't know."

"Well that's a stupid name." I looked up at him and saw a smirk on his face, having found his own joke amusing. "What?"

I shook my head and returned my attention back to the notebook, biting my lip as I scribbled down a name that wasn't completely arbitrary.

"Donnie?" Chris read it aloud, "What kind of name is that?"

"One you'll never understand," I muttered as I came up a birthday and address to match. The birthday being Pete's with my birth year and the address being an old girlfriend's house in Chicago. I think the place burned down long ago, though. I handed Christian the notebook and he took it to the girl.

As I sat in the room, waiting for Chris and his friend to return, I spotted Christian's cell phone lying on one of the two end tables. It was lit up.

I stood up and walked over to his phone, picking it up and seeing he had a plethora of new notifications - missed calls and unread text messages, all from Jane, all begging him to let her see or hear me one more time to say goodbye.

I swiped the screen to unlock the phone, but came across a passcode. I wasn't going to crack it, not with how little time I had before Chris was to return.

I swallowed hard, wanting to call her like I had Pete. I should've called her after I called him. Then she wouldn't be blowing up her husband's voice pleading to hear my voice one last time before she never would hear it again. And in my heart, I wanted to hear her voice too. I wanted to tell her my plan, tell her that I was going to be okay, maybe even ask her to-

"Here you go!" The girl exclaimed, entering the room and holding out a plastic ID card, "Hot off the press, one of a kind. Made by yours truly."

I took the card into my possession and studied it, a heavy feeling in my chest.

Patrick Stump was dead.

Donnie, on the other hand, was just born.