Death Valley

The year is 2019. An experience gone wrong created a virus that caused two thirds of the humanity to turn into monsters. Only few escaped to the contamination and are now scattered along the world.

In Chicago – or the pile of debris that once were the city -, among the survivors were Patrick Stump, Pete Wentz, Joe Trohman and Andy Hurley.

The latter duo was at the base, with Brendon and Gabe, working on a way to find a cure for the virus. As for Patrick and Pete, they were in another state, searching for more survivors.

Night was falling, and Patrick was starting to feel a little cold. Even though he had a trenchcoat on, it seemed to be not enough. Or he was just chilly.
He looked at Pete, who was just wearing a sleeveless shirt, and wondered how the hell he was not cold.

Pete looked at his shaking friend, and smirked.

“Getting a little cold, are we?”

“Shut up, Wentz, I’m not the one who’s hot all the time!” he said, and instantly regretted the choice of words.

The pink haired man lowered the bandana that covered his nose and mouth, and his smirk was visible.

“Are you trying to tell me something, Trick?”

Patrick flicked him off, blushing. “Just shut up before I shoot you in the face!”

He laughed, while the blonde walked faster, embarrassed. God, if Pete just stopped flirting with him that’d be great, ‘cause one day he’s sure he will give the wrong answer.

They looked around, searching for a safe place to spend the night. Night was dangerous, ‘cause the monsters seemed to have more activity in the dark.

However, before they could find a place, a bunch of monsters ambushed them.

Patrick took the shotgun from his back, while Pete armed his machine gun, killing a couple of them.

“Trick, to your right!”

The blonde turned to that direction, and shot the monster square in the head. Green blood splat all over his body, and he reloaded the shotgun.

The battle continued for some minutes, and, when only a couple of monsters lived, Patrick heard a loud scream coming from his left. He turned around just in time to see Pete falling to the ground, arms around his stomach.

“Pete, no!”

He ran to him, killing one of the monsters in the process.
The other one was close to Pete, ready to bite him. When he was about to lean down, Patrick took the pacifier from the holder on his leg and shot it, making the monster’s head explode.

Breathing heavily, he kneeled in front of Pete, who was laying on the ground, half-unconscious.
He slowly moved Pete’s arms away, and gasped. There was three long cuts on his stomach, from the monster’s claws.

“Tr-Trick…”

“You’re injured, Pete. That monster made a huge gash on your stomach. You’re lucky he didn’t bite you, or else you’d be contaminated by now.”

“Yeah… Real lucky…” He muttered, cringing at the pain.

Patrick stripped off his trenchcoat, and wrapped it around Pete’s middle, to stop the wound from bleeding. He shivered at the cold, but he tried to ignore it. Helping his friend was more important now.

“We need to find a doctor. Can you walk?” he said, turning to him.

Pete wasn’t moving.

Patrick stopped breathing, and checked his pulse. Oh thank God, he just fainted.

However, that brought a problem. How would he go search for help now? Pete couldn’t walk, obviously, and he couldn’t leave him there, or the monsters would catch them.

The blonde got up and put the shotgun back behind his back, and the pacifier on his holder, and bent down.
He slid his arms under Pete, and, with some effort, got up.

Patrick had gained some strength over the years, due to all the fighting, and now he was able to carry Pete.
He was heavy, yeah, but if Patrick had to carry him to find help, then so be it.

His blue eyes turned grey as the anger started bubbling inside him. He just wanted to kill every fucking monster on Earth, to get revenge for everyone he lost over them, and for almost losing his best friend, one of the only things he had now.

He could be a sweet guy most of the time, but when it comes to protecting his friends, you better stay away from him.

He started walking. He didn’t know where he was going; he just wanted to get help before it was too late.

A week passed, with Patrick walking with Pete on his arms. He had woken up a few times, but always slipped back into unconsciousness.
Patrick was getting worried. He barely ate anything on the few times he was awake, and he practically had to force him to drink some water. And the gash on his stomach wouldn’t stop leaking blood.

He was afraid that Pete would die if he didn’t find help fast enough.

The sun was setting when he finally saw a tent in the middle of nowhere. He was sure it was a doctor; there were some medical instruments outside the tent.

The blonde didn’t lose time. He entered the tent, meeting a surprised doctor, and carefully placed Pete on the mattress in the middle.

He turned around, and the look he shot the man was gelid.

“Help him. Now.”

The doctor stood there for a second, unsure of what to do. That man just entered his tent uninvited and now is demanding – not asking, demanding – to help his friend. He didn’t even know them, they could be criminals for all he knew!

Patrick took a step forward, hand on the gun holder, and that was all the incentive the doctor needed. He walked to Pete and took the jacket off and his eyes widened at the sight.

The sleeveless shirt was covered in blood, and the three gashes were bright red and bleeding.

“He’s gonna need stitches.”

“Do whatever you need, just help him.” Patrick said, his voice cracking a little at the end.

The doctor opened his bag, and took a needle and some wire. Then, carefully, he stated disinfecting the wounds.

Pete cringed at the pain, apparently having woken up with the pain. Patrick instantly walked to him.

“You alright, Wentz?”

“Fi-fine, Trick… Ah!” He screamed, as the doctor started stitching up the wounds.

For the next fifteen minutes, the doctor stitched each wound, and Pete was screaming in pain. Patrick was at his side, grabbing his hand for support.

Finally, when the last wound was almost finished, Pete fainted again, and Patrick called him, worried.

“Don’t worry, he’ll be alright. He fainted due to the extreme pain, but he’ll wake up in some minutes.”

“Thank you, doctor.” Patrick muttered, his eyes not leaving Pete.

The man nodded, surprised by the sudden gentleness of the words. Guess he’s not what I was thinking, then.

The blonde walked out of the tent, to the cold air. He looked up to the stars.

I almost lost him, he thought. Thanks to those monsters I almost lost the only important person I have.

This wasn’t true, of course; he had Andy and Joe, and Brendon and Gabe too. But Pete was special for him. They were friends for 18 years now, and Pete stood by his side the whole time.

It was inevitable: Patrick fell for him. He couldn’t help it. The way Pete looked at him, the sweetness of his touches, it all made him develop stronger feelings for the bassist.

He never acted on it, though. He was afraid he didn’t feel the same way. Even though Pete was almost always flirting with him, he never answered to it; he knew that Pete always flirted with everyone, just because he flirted more with him it didn’t mean he loved him.

I can’t have everything. I’m very lucky for having him as my best friend already. I can’t do anything to spoil this friendship.

“Patrick?”

He turned around and saw the doctor. How the hell does he know my name?

“Your friend just woke up. He was calling for a Patrick, so I deduced it was you.”

The blonde said nothing, and entered the tent. Pete was in the same place where he left him, but the mattress had been moved to a corner of the tent.

“He must spend the night here. I need to see if everything is alright with him before you go.”

Patrick nodded, and walked to his friend, kneeling at his side. He looked at the wounds; they looked better, now that they were sutured, and they didn’t seem to be infected.

“You’re okay?” he asked, turning to him.

“Yeah, I feel better now.” Pete muttered, smiling.

“Good. I was worried.”

Patrick looked once more to the gashes, and tentatively ran a hand through the side of one. He noticed that the tattoo at the end of his stomach wasn’t damaged by the cuts; it was a stroke of luck.

He heard Pete hissing and immediately took the hand away, blushing.

“Sorry.”

“Nah, it’s okay. I was actually enjoying it. Your fingers take the pain away.”

The blonde blushed harder, and avoided his gaze. Pete looked at him, a little confused. He thought Patrick was used to his flirting by now; he’s been doing that for years.

Unless there was something more in there…

The pink haired man quickly shook the thought away. There was so way Patrick could feel the same. They were just friends, nothing more.

But I wished we could be more…

“Patrick, com’here.”

Patrick looked up, startled. “Uh?”

“Come here. You’re more comfy than this mattress. I want to put my head on your lap.”

The blonde blinked, but got up and sat down beside his head. Pete instantly moved closer, resting his head on his tight, and sighed, content.

“Better?” Patrick giggled.

“Much better, thanks.” He smiled, looking up.

After a minute of silence, Pete whispered.

“Sing for me.”

“What? Why?”

He shrugged. “I don’t hear you sing for years. And, I don’t know, your voice helps me sleep.”

“Uh, okay.”

Patrick cleared his throat, and started singing.

"I got troubled thoughts

And the self-esteem to match

What a catch, what a catch"

Pete stirred on his spot, eyes tearing up.

This was the song I wrote for him.

Patrick was almost crying too, his voice was shaking. That song meant so much for him, and singing it after 5 years was bringing all kinds of memories.

He started playing with Pete’s hair, in an attempt of distracting himself from the meaning of the song.

He closed his eyes, leaning to the ‘wall’ of the tent, and kept singing.

"You'll never catch us

So just let me be

Said I'll be fine

Till the hospital or American Embassy

Miss Flack said I still want you back

Yeah, Miss Flack said I still want you back"

He stopped halfway the song, trying to calm his shaking breath. Suddenly, he noticed Pete wasn’t moving.
He looked down, to see the bassist peacefully sleeping, hand holding Patrick’s, preventing him from getting away.

Not that he would ever do it, anyway.

The singer smiled, and leaned down, kissing Pete on his forehead.

“Goodnight, Pete.”

He leaned back to the ‘wall’, and closed his eyes, quietly singing until he fell asleep as well.

"They say the captain

Goes down with the ship

So, when the world ends

Will God go down with it?

Miss Flack said I still want you back

Yeah, Miss Flack said I still want you back…"