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

Chapter 12

Pete was sitting in his bed, glasses on the bridge of his nose and his laptop sitting in front of him. He was reading news article after news article all about the night of the concert, all about who they thought was the attacker, since Brendon still hadn't come out with any information.

Some of them thought it was Pete, though their reasons completely absurd and far from the truth.

Others thought it was Brendon himself, "just for the attention".

One of them even thought it was Elisa. 

But all of them were wrong. It was Patrick. Pete knew that. And for some bizarre reason, not one of the articles assumed it was him. Not even considering the fact that he'd just recently been released from prison and that Brendon, while Patrick was locked up, had managed to take everything away from him. Not one reporter acknowledged that.

Pete ripped the glasses off of his face and threw them to the side, slamming the laptop screen down in a burst of anger.

"Dad?" He faintly heard.

He glanced over to his bedroom door and saw Bronx standing in the doorway, dressed in his pajamas and a small frown on his face.

"I thought I put you to bed," Pete grumbled in response, rubbing his face with his hands, his eyes hurting from looking at the small laptop screen for so long.

"I can't sleep."

"Then just play on your 3DS or something."

"No, Dad, you're not getting it," The sixth grader argued, walking into the room and crawling onto his dad's king sized bed. "I can't sleep because I can't stop thinking about Uncle Patrick."

Pete chuckled sadly and dropped his hands into his lap, "I know how you feel."

"What even happened to him? Where'd he go? Why'd he leave?"

"Bronx, he...he's...I can't tell you," The bassist replied, not really knowing how to answer the question posed to him. The boy stared at him, anticipating a real answer. "Look, he's just got some things to do, okay? He doesn't know when he's coming back or even if he's coming back, so-"

"Like Meagan?"

Pete's heart sunk, hearing those words come out of his son's mouth. He swallowed hard, nearly whispering his response, "No, not like Meagan."

The two sat there in silence for a little before Bronx inquired, "Dad, what's going on? Why does everyone keep leaving?"

Pete bit his lip and tilted his head down.

"Dad?"

"Bronx, just go back to bed," He muttered, keeping his gaze locked on his lap, "Please. I'm not really in the mood to talk to you about this right now, okay? I don't care if you stay up all night playing on your 3DS or whatever, just go back to bed."

The eleven year old sat there for a little before doing as his father said. He shut the door behind him and that's when Pete let out the breath he was unconsciously holding. He fell backwards onto the mattress and covered his face with his hands. He dragged them down and dropped them to his sides, turning his head and looking at the picture of him and Meagan he had sitting on his nightstand, right next to the alarm clock.

A single tear fell from the corner of his eye and trickled down to the sheets beneath him, soaking into the fabric.

"Why does everyone keep leaving?"