Outside the forest it was only twilight, but it was the dead of night within the trees. These ones were old, ancient, thick and winding, jutting out at odd angles and reaching into the sky like claws. Pairs of glowing eyes seemed to glare at him through every space in the darkness, each howl and yip made him flinch. More than once he tripped over exposed roots, slammed into trunks and scraped his skin on the delicate branches. And each time he got up and kept going. He had no choice, for Silence the Noise was right on his heels, waiting for just the right moment he slipped up for them to catch him.
"Stop running songbird!" one of them shouted, their voice filled with glee.
"Birds like you can't fly very far!" taunted the other. "Wouldn't want to hurt those pretty wings now, would you?"
Their cackles echoed through the night, fueling Patrick's hysteria. He tried to pick up the pace to run faster, only to trip again. Part of his suit was snagged on a branch and a cut formed on his arm. Patrick felt the warm blood trail down it, burning his skin as he ran. Patrick was sure he wasn't going to make it out of this alive.
Then he tripped on a rock and fell.
Here, the forest began to go down on a slope. Patrick started falling and didn't stop, instead tumbling down, down, down the hill, picking up speed as he went. Along the way he clawed desperately at anything and everything he came across, roots, logs, rocks, to get a hold and stop himself, but it was no use. He hardly even realized the cliff coming up behind him until it was too late, and he was already sailing off the edge at breakneck speed. Patrick shrieked as he felt his body enter free fall and for a moment all rational thought left his mind. He wasn't thinking of Pete, or Joe or Andy, of Elisa or Phoenix or Mrs. Wentz, of Fall Out Boy or his own solo career or the fans or Silence the Noise or even of what would come when he hit the ground. The entire world was the feeling of falling, the terror of feeling his heart in his throat.
And then he stopped.
Patrick felt all the air leave his lungs as he hit a tree branch right in the stomach. He clawed at it, trying to grab hold of it and hang on, but he slipped anyway. He hit another branch. Then another and another, suffering multiple scrapes and splinters with each one, until he finally reached the bottom of the pine tree and slipped onto the soft moss below where he lay completely still.
It was only then that Patrick's pursuers caught up to the cliff. There, they skidded to a stop. They looked left, then right. Between the trees and up into the branches, in case their pray had scurried up there to hide. But of course, they didn't find him.
"Well, that's fucking weird," said the first girl.
The second sighed. "Courtney's going to fucking kill us, man."
"Don't say that!" said her companion, giving her a light shove. "It's been like, a few minutes, we can't have lost him like that. Here. You go left, and I'll go right." She pointed to the corresponding directions.
"And what if he fell down there?" asked girl number one, pointing down the cliff.
"Well, then we'll get there, eventually. If he fell there's a slim chance, he survived and an even slimmer chance he made it out uninjured. He'll probably be dead or out of it if we allow him to bleed out for twenty minutes."
"Well, if you say so," said the girl. "Man, if we can't find him though, we'll really be dead."
"I said to stop thinking like that!"
The girls' obnoxious voices were so loud they carried into the clearing down below, scaring off the animals that lived there. They waited for them to fade into the night to emerge from their hiding places. Slowly, cautiously the martens and wild cats peaked out from their holes and hovels, the frogs from the surface of their ponds, the bats and owls from the high branches of their trees to investigate the pale, fragile man who had so suddenly landed in the field of soft moss in the center of their little section of the forest. It was a fox who reached Patrick first and cautiously sniffed at him, licked the trickle of blood from his fair cheek. He stirred, blinked wearily as he noticed the fox, then all of the other animals crowding around him curiously. Gently he sat up, rubbing his eyes. "I'm okay," he assured them, his voice soft and soothing, as if he were singing again. "I'm okay…"
Only he wasn't okay. He had suffered a bad fall and though the pine tree and moss had prevented absolute disaster, he had still gone a long way from the cliff. Patrick winced as he propped up his leg, each slight movement sending a burning pain through it. Tears pricked his eyes, and he sniffled. In response, the animals only drew closer. A bat landed on his shoulder and nuzzled his cheek softly. A wild cat curled up and purred beside him. A little badger waddled up to him and placed some berries by his side. Despite everything, Patrick couldn't help but smile. But it was faint, ghostly.
"Thank you, guys…" Patrick whispered softly. "I mean it, really…" He swallowed. "But I wish a couple of berries would be enough to make this all better…"
He leaned back on the moss again, too tired to move. It was good and soft, a nice place for his aching heart, mind and body to rest. Night had fallen properly now, and the moon tonight was a waning crescent. Just like how it appeared on the cover of Infinity on High. How fitting for his friends' first night underground.
Patrick let out a humorless laugh, and even that was enough to shoot a spasm of pain through his body. "Fuck…" he muttered. A sardonic smile spread across his face. "This is the absolute worst day of my life…"
The animals said nothing about that, of course. How could they? They were simple creatures, or at least simpler than Patrick. They didn't understand the pain of losing your whole world, of collapsing in front of everyone you had ever known, of coming home and finding out they'd all been murdered for a grand purpose you didn't understand. They didn't understand constantly being weak and a fuck up and a burden and a bad friend to the people who were basically family to you.
"Fuck…" Patrick whispered again, as the tears pricked his eyes. "Fuck, FUCK!!! This is the worst day!! This is the worst day of my fucking life!! God, what did I do‽ What the hell did I do to deserve it‽"
Patrick's screams echoed through the wilderness. And for a moment the forest fell silent and all that sounded in the air was the wind and the rustle of trees. But then they started again. The crickets, the frogs, the owls. Of course they did. Because nothing stopped. Nothing ended. Even when the three most important people in the world were gone the world spun and life went on as if nothing happened.
But Patrick didn't think he could do that anymore. And not just because there were people out there trying to kill him.
Well then, Patrick thought. Maybe I should just let them find me. Because I don't want to do this anymore. I'm done.
The next few minutes were a blur for Patrick. Even years later he would have no recollection of it. There was only the vague sensation of an aching in his legs and a crushing despair in his heart. And the animals. They were nice, he supposed. The forest was nice. It sat with him, settled into his bones. The last thing he thought was this: I wouldn't mind being food for the mushrooms one day, before his mind forgot how to think in words.
It remembered when he felt someone tap on his shoulder.
At that point, Patrick had closed his eyes. So, he opened them again. They were there, standing over him, all three of them. Pete, Joe and Andy, smiling at him, glowing in the moonlight like ghosts.
"So…" Pete said, smiling. "Someone told me you had a bad day."
"Yeah…?" Patrick asked. He was so tired. He was having trouble getting his tongue to behave. "And who told you that?"
"Phoenix did," he said, shrugging. "Clever bird. But she said you didn't like her at first."
"She…" Patrick fought for words. "She scared me… I didn't know that she… she tried to save you…" He took in a shaky breath. "Is she okay?"
"Are you okay?" Joe asked, furrowing his brow. His mouth was twisted in a quirky smile. "Because you're lookin' a little, uh…"
"Dead…?"
"Mortally wounded was what I was going to say," Joe said. "We're the ones who are dead." And he gestured to himself, Pete and Andy.
"Oh yeah…" Patrick said, and he laughed a little. "But if that's the case, how are you talking to me, then?"
"We miss you, Patrick," Andy said in that soft, gentle voice of his.
Patrick uttered a short, breathy laugh. "God, really?" he asked. "That doesn't answer my question. But fuck, I don't even care. I miss you guys too…" He passed a hand over his face. "I want to be with you guys, so bad, it's not fair…" His lip quivered and hot tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. "Take me with you…?"
"Huh?" Pete asked.
"You heard me…" Patrick removed his eyes from his face. His friends were still there, looking as real as if they were actually alive. "You have to go back sometime, right? To wherever you go when you're… you know…" Patrick swallowed, still unable to say it. "Take me with you when you do…"
Pete, Joe and Andy exchanged uneasy glances. "Um, I don't know…" Pete said.
"But why not? Look at me… I'm already slipping away right here… the same people who killed you want me dead. Why not let them finish the job? End my suffering… I…" Another painful laugh. "It's been nothing but nonstop suffering without you guys…"
Patrick's friends, who had already looked unsure, now frowned deeply. They looked to each other, concern in their expressions. It drove Patrick crazy.
"Oh, come on!" he shouted at them. "Don't you see‽ Fall Out Boy is gone! My purpose, my livelihood, it's all gone! Gone with all of you! Without you what am I meant to do‽ It's been nonstop hell…" Patrick sobbed. "Nonstop hell since you left and I…" he gasped, trembled as he put his face in his hands. "I can't do it alone… Please, please, guys… don't make me do it alone…"
Patrick wept then, right there where he lay in the moss in full view of Fall Out Boy and the woodland animals who still hovered close by. Pete, Joe and Andy were silent for a moment and for a second Patrick thought they had gone away.
Then Pete said, "You asked if Phoenix was okay."
Patrick stopped, wiped his eyes. "I… yeah…"
"Well… what if we took you with us?" Pete asked. "Do you think she'd be okay, then?"
Patrick scoffed. "She's your bird, Pete."
"Not anymore." Pete's expression was suddenly grave. "She came to your house to find you. She showed you one of her memories. She helped you to escape our killers. She's yours now, Patrick. And she's fiercely loyal. I would know."
"How do you know that?" Patrick murmured. He wiped his face again. It was so, so wet with tears.
Pete didn't answer. Instead, Joe said, "And what about Elisa?" When Patrick scoffed again, he said, "Don't say she'll be better off without you. She wouldn't be. She's not going to the ends of the Earth for you because she's obligated. She could have left you alone with your grief because the two of you were arguing. But the moment she heard she dropped everything to be there for you. That's love, Patrick. And where would all that love go if you suddenly went away?"
"What about your parents?" Andy suggested. "Mrs. Wentz who sees you as a son? Beau will need someone to tell him about his father. And there's no one better to tell him about Pete than you." He and Pete exchanged sly glances and Joe chuckled. "What about all the people who cherished your solo work?" he asked and Patrick laughed bitterly.
"Nobody liked Soul Punk," he said.
"Yeah, the hundreds of people who went to your tour didn't like Soul Punk," Joe said with a sarcastic smirk.
"People went up to me and told me they didn't like it to my face…"
"And I recall one person at your show saying they wanted to have your babies," Andy said softly. Patrick couldn't help but utter a laugh at that.
"See? There we go," Pete said, crossing his arms confidently. "A sincere smile. Got 'em!"
"The truth is, Patrick," Andy began. "You, your musical voice-"
"Hell, your literal voice!" Joe interrupted, causing Andy to give him the stink eye.
"It's all still important," Andy continued. "Do you recall what Phoenix showed you back at the house?"
Patrick thought for a moment. "The briefcase… the gemstones… they wanted to trap your souls… but… why…?"
"Well, I read about it," Pete said. "Groups like Silence the Noise. They use magic, cast spells. Souls are often a key ingredient. And the spell Silence wants to cast… well…"
"It'd basically rid the world of music forever!" Joe blurted out.
"Joe," Andy said, sounding annoyed, but Patrick's eyes went wide. Even the animals seemed to perk up at that.
"What?" he asked. "No music? Any music? Like, forever?"
"That's right," Pete said, looking up at the sky, at the crescent moon that looked like their album cover. "That's what Silence wants."
"But why‽" Patrick asked.
Andy shook his head. "Is there even an explanation for such a thing that would make sense?"
No, Patrick realized. No, there wasn't. And there never would be. "Your voice, your life," Joe explained. "It's the only thing now keeping music from falling. And now it's up to you to defend it. So, do you understand why we can't take you with us just yet, Patrick?"
Patrick understood alright. He almost said yes. But then he looked at the three men before him. So young, so spry, so full of life, except for the fact that they weren't real, there was no way they could be real.
"Just because we're not in the physical realm with you doesn't mean we're not real," Andy said, as if reading his mind. "As long as you remember us, as long as you loved us, we'll always be real."
"And also, our music still exists, and how could it if we weren't real, you know?" Joe asked and Pete elbowed him.
"But it's not fair…" Patrick muttered. "You say all these people need me… but I still need all of you…"
At that, the three boys exchanged glances. "Well, we're still here with you," Pete said. "You can still call on us. With these." Pete, Joe and Andy each fished into their pockets and pulled something out. Patrick recognized the red gemstones from the briefcase. "One for each of us, right? Even if our souls aren't like, literally in them, it'll always be a way for us to be connected. And that way you'll still be able to rely on us."
"I see…" Patrick said, and he took the gemstones carefully in his hands. The red fox by him sniffed them curiously. "Where's the fourth one?" he asked.
"With Phoenix," Pete said, and the boys stepped aside as Phoenix perched beside Patrick on the bed of moss.
"Phoenix!" Patrick said, smiling wide. "You're okay."
Phoenix chirped happily, presented Patrick with the fourth and final gemstone which he snatched up eagerly. Now he had all four. "But wait," he said. "What am I supposed to do with soul snatching gemstones?" he asked. "I don't really want to… you know… trap your souls…"
"That's the cool thing," Pete said. "These things don't just trap souls. They amplify the power within souls too."
"Amplify?"
"Yes. I read about it, with the help of Phoenix here," Pete said, gesturing to his pet who fluffed her feathers in pride. "Apparently everyone's soul's got some, like, latent magical power. Using one of these stones can help you activate yours."
"Just one?" Patrick asked. He picked one and pressed it to his chest, felt the cool surface against his fair, aching skin. "Uh, are there magic words I have to say, or…?"
"Phoenix and I read that it's different for everyone. So, she can help you with that." Suddenly, the images of Pete, Joe and Andy began to flicker, turning into mist before solidifying again.
"Guys," Andy said, a cautious frown on his face. "Time's running out."
Pete nodded. He turned to Patrick. "We can't stay for much longer, I'm afraid. Even just appearing to you like this is highly dangerous for a passed soul to do."
"Huh?" Patrick asked.
"There's not really much time to explain," Andy said. "But we know you can do it, Patrick. We love you."
"It was a pleasure playing with you," Joe said. "Wouldn't have had it any other way."
"Thanks for the memories," said Pete.
And just like that, Patrick's three best friends began to fade away, mist drifting off into the night. He tried to scramble to his feet, as if to try and catch them, but his bed leg sent him sprawling to the ground again. "Wait. Please!" he shouted after them. "I love you too! I'm sorry!"
Patrick's heart sank as he watched his friends fade away, thinking that once again he had missed his chance to make things right with them. But then a single voice drifted back to him. Pete's, whispering in his ear.
No hard feelings, Trick. We're sorry too.
Despite everything, Patrick couldn't help but smile at that. Even in death he had good friends. Such good, good friends. He took a deep breath and turned to Phoenix. "So…" he asked her. "What are the magic words?"