Adrenaline Sisters// fall out boy & my chemical romance

Chapter 15: In the Dark

|| First Person || Bomb Sunshine ||

We gather at a diner in Zone One, the Trans Ams and van parked in front of the abandoned space. The first thing I notice once we enter the building is how warm it is. It's welcoming and we all divide into our own conversations, telling each other about our eventful weeks apart.

"Patrick, here, wouldn't shut up about you," Pete laughs as he nudges the blonde boy. Patrick glares at Pete as we cram into a booth. His cheeks turn ruby red.
"That's not true," he argues. "If you said that I wouldn't ever shut up" —he hesitates to recall the moments I wasn't there for— "even that wouldn't be true! But shut up, Pete!"
"I hope Bomb is okay," Pete mocks in a high pitched voice, squishing his own cheeks to make his lips stick out.
"I'm pretty close to stabbing you if you don't shut up, Pete," Patrick fumes. I can't help but laugh at the two friends.

All is well until the paper comes to mind. The paper in my folder that carries the fact that my sister killed our father. It dwells on me and I don't even realize I had zoned out, staring at the table in front of me. A voice pulls me out of my head, then a warm hand with calloused fingers. Patrick's hand brushes against mine.

"Bomb?" he tries. Worry coats his round, blue eyes. I try my best to wear a brave face, though I know it's too late. Patrick studies me, squinting a little. He's already skeptical.

"You okay?" he asks just above a whisper. I press a smile and nod. He doesn't buy it, but he doesn't dig deeper.

"Let's look at those files," Ray grins next to me.
"I second that," Andy chimes from the counter seats. I look at Patrick expectantly, waiting for him to give me the folders. Realization crosses his face as he blushes harder than last time.

"Shit, I forgot them in the van," he mumbles. I giggle at him and stand from the booth.
"It's alright, Patrick," I reassure. "Who has the keys?"

Andy tosses the car keys to me and I catch them with ease. I flash a smile of gratitude towards him.

"I-I'll come with," Patrick stutters, standing.
"It's fine," I gently decline. "I can go on my own."
"Then, take my jacket," he insists, fumbling the leather accessory off. "It's chilly out."
"Patrick, it's only a five-second trip," I chuckle. He chews on his lip sheepishly; I rub his arm to comfort him a little. "I'll be fine. Really."
"Okay," he huffs in defeat before sitting down.
"Awww," the booth squeals at Patrick tauntingly. He shoots them a glare.
"Shut up," he fumes. I laugh and pat his back gently.
"Leave him alone, guys," I suggest for him. "I'll be back in a bit."

I jog out the door and to the van, opening the passenger door. The folders rest in the seat Patrick was in for a moment before he had insisted on treating my wounds while we drove away from Battery City. I fish through mine, finding the printed evidence of the past. I slip the paper in the back of the records in my folder and gather the folders before closing the door and leaving the vehicle.

I return to the booth, finding that Fun Ghoul had claimed my previous seat while I was gone.
"See, Patrick? She came back," Pete coos, vexing his friend. Patrick glares at the man dressed in mostly black. Pete only gives him a cheeky grin.
"Leave him alone, Pete," Andy smiles. "He can't help it."
"Exactly," Patrick agrees. His eyes widen at his realization. "Wait! No! Fuck you guys!"

"I have the folders!" I call out to everyone. The Killjoys and the Defenders of Faith gather around, curious in who my sister and I are. Revolution makes her way through the small crowd to stand beside me. I hand my sister her profile.

"What's your name?" Poison asks excitedly. Rev looks down at her profile, then smiles back up at him.
"Nova," she answers. The guys burst into side comments about how unique the name is. I try to sink from the group with my folder, not wanting the spotlight.

"How about you, Bomb?" Andy asks me, his smile warm and expectant.
"It's nothing extraordinary," I chuckle, pushing my hair away from my face.
"I'm pretty sure it's not as basic as mine," Patrick says.
"Shut up, tree," Pete laughs. Patrick shoots another glare at him.
"Shut it, you grammatical error," he sasses back, having his way with his friend's last name, Wentz. Patrick turns his attention back to me; he nudges me gently.

"C'mon, tell us," he eggs.
"I-It's Elaine," I stammer. My cheeks warm up as I look down at my worn sneakers.
"That's really badass," Frank comments.
"Thanks, I guess," I chuckle.
"Well, there's more to that than just your names," Mikey points out. "It's a whole stack of papers!"
"Yeah, what's in here?" Gerard asks as he takes my folder. My chest tightens as he flips through the pages, then back to my profile page.

"Elaine Carter. November nineteenth," he reads. "Your birthday is coming soon."
"Mine passed, I think," Rev comments. Pete claps her on the shoulder lightly.
"Strengths: combat, stealing... Weaknesses: Adrenaline withdrawals, guns, killing..."
"Nothing too new," I mumble.
"Parents are Teresa and Daniel Carter," he states before turning the page.

"You look so much like your mother," Mikey laughs. "It's almost terrifying!"
"What about this paper? The pigs put drugs in you?" Gerard asks. He skims through the information. I catch a small scowl cross Patrick's face.

"I'm fine," I reassure the blonde boy. He focuses his eyes to his hand and hook on the table.
"I can't pronounce any of these names," Poison laughs before turning the page. He fishes through more of the pages until he stops at one.

"Daniel Carter. Your father," Mikey says.
"Says here that he was gh—"
"I think we've had enough of my file," I intrude, closing the folder and taking it into my possession again.
"But—"
"Let's look at Rev's. I'm kind of sick of the spotlight," I stress. Revolution eyes me with confusion and suspicion. I flash her a smile and shrug.
"I'm only trying to be fair, sis."
"Then, let's have at it," Kobra shrugs before taking Revolution's folder.

"What the fuck?" Rev mouths to me. I try my best to look innocent, brushing off her question. She can't know about our father. I can't let her know that she was the one who killed him.