Eaten Inside
Eaten Inside [STANDALONE]
POV: Third Person. Patrick Centered.
Author Notes:Just to make it easier for you, just in case anyone gets confused, because I can be very confusing sometimes; Patrick’s thoughts are in italics and Billie Joe’s thoughts are in bold italics.
The death of a family member is something everyone fears. No one wants to go through the trauma of loosing a loved one, but most people, at some point in their lives do go through this. Namely a certain man who is walking absentmindedly in the rain; not really thinking about where he’s going, but knowing exactly where he’ll end up.
Walking up the driveway slowly, the brunet checked his watch: 3.30am, damn, he’s gonna kill me. He sighed, raised his right hand and knocked on the door. It took all of a minute before the sound of the lock being turned and the door being opened. Patrick looked up slowly, fearing he would be met with angry eyes; it was 3.30am after all. He was wrong though; there was no anger in those understanding jade eyes. Without a word Billie Joe took his coat and his car keys and locked the door behind him before walking down the driveway to his car. Patrick stood still, thinking Billie Joe didn’t want to see him. Why else would he grab his keys and proceed to leave? Billie Joe sighed inaudibly and made his way back up the driveway towards the slightly shorter man; he linked his fingers with said man and pulled him softly towards the car.
Billie Joe sent glances towards Patrick every so often. He had his head, which was not clad with his trademark hat, resting on the window as he watched the trees whiz by. The raven haired man drove down the long road, going no where in particular but all the same he was going somewhere of particular meaning to both men in the car. He flicked the indicator and took a left turn onto a dirt road. He glanced at Patrick again; he hadn’t changed his position the only thing he had done was close his eyes, though something told Billie Joe he wasn’t asleep. He eased the car to a halt and parked it in front of a clearing and shut off the engine.
Billie Joe moved his hand and placed it on Patrick's knee lightly, this didn’t faze the younger man. Billie Joe removed his hand from the other’s knee and moved to open the car door. Once outside, he walked round to open Patrick’s door, only he found the man had already done this and was leaning against the car door. Billie Joe smiled lightly, more for reassurance than anything. Patrick didn’t return it, to be completely honest he didn’t have the will power or the energy to do so. He wasn’t in the mood to smile. Great, that makes me look like I like being in this frame of mind.
Patrick took hold of Billie Joe’s hand and started to walk through the clearing, they both know this place. This was where Billie Joe brought Patrick when they first met, they swam for hours in the lake alone before Mike arrived and joined them, dragging a reluctant Pete with him.
Billie Joe looked around, the lake was still as beautiful as the first day he discovered it. He heard Patrick sigh; he didn’t know whether it was purposely to get the older man’s attention or whether it was just general. It was only then he realised Patrick still had his hand intertwined with his own. Billie Joe pulled lightly on his arm just so he could get Patrick to look at him. It took the motion of two fingers under the shorter man’s chin before this could be accomplished, and even then Patrick insisted on looking down after a couple of seconds. Billie Joe tugged on Patrick's arm again but this time he took his left hand and cradled Patrick’s head in it; guiding it to his chest. Patrick sighed softly and closed his eyes,
“Thank you.” The whisper that was admitted from the 23 year old’s mouth was so small, it would have almost gone unheard if it wasn’t for the fact that the two hadn’t uttered a word the whole time they’d been in each other’s presence that night.
“You’re welcome.” The elder replied in just as small of a whisper.
Patrick scanned the area until his eyes fell on a log in the centre of the clearing. Billie Joe noticed this and walked softly over to it and sat down, resting his back against the coarse wood. He pulled Patrick down and made sure he lay down with him and was as comfortable as you can get sitting on the ground.
Billie Joe looked around the clearing, taking in the scenery and waited for Patrick to start talking, because he needed to, if anything Billie Joe knows is that talking helps, even if he doesn’t take his own advice.
Playing idly with a stray thread on Billie Joe’s shirt, Patrick sighed again. He was thinking about what to say and how he was going to say it. He didn’t want to seem he wanted to dump all his feelings onto his friend, but he needed to tell somebody his feelings, he’d had kept it inside for nearly 10 years and it was eating at him.
“I can still see it,” he started. “I can re live those couple of moments in my head. So clear, that it’s scary.” He started. Billie Joe ran a hand through the brown hair atop of the younger man’s head, motioning for him to continue.
“I can see myself picking up the mail from the mailbox, walking up the driveway and opening the door. I flicked through one, two, three keys before I found the right one to fit the lock.” Patrick mumbled, almost more to himself than Billie Joe. He hadn’t said any of this aloud to anyone, not even himself.
“I then dumped the stuff on the table by the front door, went in the kitchen and put the kettle on. Like I did every morning.” He paused for a second. Taking his time with explaining it, he wasn’t going to let everything out; just some of it.
He breathed quietly for a moment. He didn’t want to go any further on the re accounting of that February morning.
“I’ve never talked to anyone about this. My parents suggested therapy, but I refused. I didn’t want to talk. I didn’t sleep properly for months. I’d stay downstairs until I would drift off, then I would go upstairs and fall straight asleep without time to think, y’know?” Billie Joe nodded; he didn’t fully know, but Mike did do something along those lines when his Grandma died.
“Even then, I’d probably wake up and then crawl into bed with my mom, my dad having to sleep on the couch. After a while though I started sleeping on my own again, it took about 6 months for me to recover that part.
“I spent most of my time at Pete’s after it happened. I didn’t want to see my mom’s pain.” He mumbled. He shifted to readjust his glasses on the bridge of his nose.
“I think the first time I went home after that was the day of the funeral a week after. Pete was an angel, I feel bad for it now. The poor guy must’ve been so exhausted. He would stay up with me every night until the wee hours of the morning. Just… there y’know? And he got told off so badly because he took a whole two weeks off school to be with me.” Billie Joe felt him smile from where he was on his chest. The raven haired man smiled slightly and continued to rub soothing circles over his back,
“What happened after, y’know, you put the kettle on.” The elder asked, not really wanting to have to let Patrick experience it over again. But he thought in his own mind that if Patrick told someone, let them in, then maybe the ghosts that were haunting his mind would leave; or at least subside a considerable amount.
Patrick breathed in deeply,
“I walked up the stairs. Turned on the bathroom light and continued to walk to the door at the end of the hall. I opened the door and… and.” His breath hitched sending a violent jolt through the young man’s body. Patrick buried his head impossibly further into Billie Joe’s chest, feeling the start of his tears approaching.
“He was just… lying there.” The last two words coming out as a whisper.
“Who Patrick?” Billie Joe asked he was about as clueless as the next person to this.
“My Grandpa.” Patrick let out a strangled coughed before he started to cry. His body heaved as he sobbed; his body convulsing violently. Oh my god. He fucking found him. Dead. Billie Joe wrapped his arms around the slightly broader shoulders of the crying boy; shifting unnoticeably so he could gently rock him into calmness.
“He was on the floor,” Patrick continued through tears. “I looked at his chest and it wasn’t rising or falling. I didn’t panic though; I don’t think it sunk in. I calmly walked out of the room, down the stairs and to the front door. I locked it, like I was leaving normally and walked to Pete’s. Only when I got there and he let me inside I completely shattered. Falling into his arms, I panicked and cried so much I threw up on his carpet.” Patrick quietened down again. Billie Joe wondered why he’d stopped. Said man lifted up Patrick’s head so he could see his face. Patrick looked him straight in the eyes and Billie Joe stared back into huge sorrowful orbs. The elder rubbed his thumbs over the, what seemed ever lasting, tear stains and lent forward to kiss the shorter boy on the forehead lovingly.
“I couldn’t bring myself to tell Pete what had happened ‘til some hour later. He was so dedicated to me; he’d put up with that whole hour of crying and comforted me. When I told him I thought my Grandpa was dead, he walked with me back to the house, took my keys and went inside to make sure. He never doubted me; he just wanted to make sure. He was so fucking… I dunno, brave? I’d never go into a house to see if someone was dead. But that’s what you do for friends right?” he asked. Billie Joe only nodded, there would be no way in hell he’d do that. Pete was one in a million.
“How long ago was this Patrick?” Billie Joe asked him once he felt it was the right time to talk again, the silence was deafening after 15 or so minutes.
“Nine years ago.” He replied.
“And you never told anyone how you felt?” Billie Joe voiced his thoughts. Patrick shook his head,
“Never. You’re the first person I’ve told this to, not even Pete knows my feelings like I’ve just told you. I used to just go to Pete’s every year on this day and he’d let me lie in his bed with him. He’d wait until I’d either cried myself to sleep or fallen into sleep which was aided by a couple of sleeping pills.” He said his tears by now subsiding. Billie Joe looked him in the eyes,
“Don’t you ever, ever keep things like this to yourself again okay?” he told him firmly but kindly. “I don’t want to see you like this, and I’m sure Pete and your other friends don’t either. You promise me?” He said. Patrick nodded,
“I promise.” He leant up and pressed a light, quick kiss on the ebony haired man’s lips.
“Pete’ll be wondering where I am. Maybe I should ring him and tell him I’m okay.” He thought reaching for Billie Joe’s phone. But the green eyed man stopped him,
“You can in a second okay? Just lie here with me for a bit, you must be so tired.” He put Patrick’s head back on his chest, who quickly found his heartbeat which lulled him,
“Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome.” Billie Joe replied.
Within minutes Billie Joe sensed regularity in Patrick’s breathing. He fished out his phone and dialled Pete’s number,
“I’ve got him Pete, he’s okay. I’ll drop him off in the morning if he want’s to. Cya.”
Billie Joe rested his hand atop of Patrick’s shoulders and looked upon the lake, sighing contently, thinking and offering quiet shushes to the boy in his arms whenever he stirred.
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Hope you liked. I enjoyed writing it. Con crit is encouraged but please don’t be too harsh as this story is something quite personal to me, even though it’s been changed a lot.
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Please comment if you read it. I cant improve unless Im told of my downfalls. It doesnt take two minutes to comment...
Author Notes:Just to make it easier for you, just in case anyone gets confused, because I can be very confusing sometimes; Patrick’s thoughts are in italics and Billie Joe’s thoughts are in bold italics.
The death of a family member is something everyone fears. No one wants to go through the trauma of loosing a loved one, but most people, at some point in their lives do go through this. Namely a certain man who is walking absentmindedly in the rain; not really thinking about where he’s going, but knowing exactly where he’ll end up.
Walking up the driveway slowly, the brunet checked his watch: 3.30am, damn, he’s gonna kill me. He sighed, raised his right hand and knocked on the door. It took all of a minute before the sound of the lock being turned and the door being opened. Patrick looked up slowly, fearing he would be met with angry eyes; it was 3.30am after all. He was wrong though; there was no anger in those understanding jade eyes. Without a word Billie Joe took his coat and his car keys and locked the door behind him before walking down the driveway to his car. Patrick stood still, thinking Billie Joe didn’t want to see him. Why else would he grab his keys and proceed to leave? Billie Joe sighed inaudibly and made his way back up the driveway towards the slightly shorter man; he linked his fingers with said man and pulled him softly towards the car.
Billie Joe sent glances towards Patrick every so often. He had his head, which was not clad with his trademark hat, resting on the window as he watched the trees whiz by. The raven haired man drove down the long road, going no where in particular but all the same he was going somewhere of particular meaning to both men in the car. He flicked the indicator and took a left turn onto a dirt road. He glanced at Patrick again; he hadn’t changed his position the only thing he had done was close his eyes, though something told Billie Joe he wasn’t asleep. He eased the car to a halt and parked it in front of a clearing and shut off the engine.
Billie Joe moved his hand and placed it on Patrick's knee lightly, this didn’t faze the younger man. Billie Joe removed his hand from the other’s knee and moved to open the car door. Once outside, he walked round to open Patrick’s door, only he found the man had already done this and was leaning against the car door. Billie Joe smiled lightly, more for reassurance than anything. Patrick didn’t return it, to be completely honest he didn’t have the will power or the energy to do so. He wasn’t in the mood to smile. Great, that makes me look like I like being in this frame of mind.
Patrick took hold of Billie Joe’s hand and started to walk through the clearing, they both know this place. This was where Billie Joe brought Patrick when they first met, they swam for hours in the lake alone before Mike arrived and joined them, dragging a reluctant Pete with him.
Billie Joe looked around, the lake was still as beautiful as the first day he discovered it. He heard Patrick sigh; he didn’t know whether it was purposely to get the older man’s attention or whether it was just general. It was only then he realised Patrick still had his hand intertwined with his own. Billie Joe pulled lightly on his arm just so he could get Patrick to look at him. It took the motion of two fingers under the shorter man’s chin before this could be accomplished, and even then Patrick insisted on looking down after a couple of seconds. Billie Joe tugged on Patrick's arm again but this time he took his left hand and cradled Patrick’s head in it; guiding it to his chest. Patrick sighed softly and closed his eyes,
“Thank you.” The whisper that was admitted from the 23 year old’s mouth was so small, it would have almost gone unheard if it wasn’t for the fact that the two hadn’t uttered a word the whole time they’d been in each other’s presence that night.
“You’re welcome.” The elder replied in just as small of a whisper.
Patrick scanned the area until his eyes fell on a log in the centre of the clearing. Billie Joe noticed this and walked softly over to it and sat down, resting his back against the coarse wood. He pulled Patrick down and made sure he lay down with him and was as comfortable as you can get sitting on the ground.
Billie Joe looked around the clearing, taking in the scenery and waited for Patrick to start talking, because he needed to, if anything Billie Joe knows is that talking helps, even if he doesn’t take his own advice.
Playing idly with a stray thread on Billie Joe’s shirt, Patrick sighed again. He was thinking about what to say and how he was going to say it. He didn’t want to seem he wanted to dump all his feelings onto his friend, but he needed to tell somebody his feelings, he’d had kept it inside for nearly 10 years and it was eating at him.
“I can still see it,” he started. “I can re live those couple of moments in my head. So clear, that it’s scary.” He started. Billie Joe ran a hand through the brown hair atop of the younger man’s head, motioning for him to continue.
“I can see myself picking up the mail from the mailbox, walking up the driveway and opening the door. I flicked through one, two, three keys before I found the right one to fit the lock.” Patrick mumbled, almost more to himself than Billie Joe. He hadn’t said any of this aloud to anyone, not even himself.
“I then dumped the stuff on the table by the front door, went in the kitchen and put the kettle on. Like I did every morning.” He paused for a second. Taking his time with explaining it, he wasn’t going to let everything out; just some of it.
He breathed quietly for a moment. He didn’t want to go any further on the re accounting of that February morning.
“I’ve never talked to anyone about this. My parents suggested therapy, but I refused. I didn’t want to talk. I didn’t sleep properly for months. I’d stay downstairs until I would drift off, then I would go upstairs and fall straight asleep without time to think, y’know?” Billie Joe nodded; he didn’t fully know, but Mike did do something along those lines when his Grandma died.
“Even then, I’d probably wake up and then crawl into bed with my mom, my dad having to sleep on the couch. After a while though I started sleeping on my own again, it took about 6 months for me to recover that part.
“I spent most of my time at Pete’s after it happened. I didn’t want to see my mom’s pain.” He mumbled. He shifted to readjust his glasses on the bridge of his nose.
“I think the first time I went home after that was the day of the funeral a week after. Pete was an angel, I feel bad for it now. The poor guy must’ve been so exhausted. He would stay up with me every night until the wee hours of the morning. Just… there y’know? And he got told off so badly because he took a whole two weeks off school to be with me.” Billie Joe felt him smile from where he was on his chest. The raven haired man smiled slightly and continued to rub soothing circles over his back,
“What happened after, y’know, you put the kettle on.” The elder asked, not really wanting to have to let Patrick experience it over again. But he thought in his own mind that if Patrick told someone, let them in, then maybe the ghosts that were haunting his mind would leave; or at least subside a considerable amount.
Patrick breathed in deeply,
“I walked up the stairs. Turned on the bathroom light and continued to walk to the door at the end of the hall. I opened the door and… and.” His breath hitched sending a violent jolt through the young man’s body. Patrick buried his head impossibly further into Billie Joe’s chest, feeling the start of his tears approaching.
“He was just… lying there.” The last two words coming out as a whisper.
“Who Patrick?” Billie Joe asked he was about as clueless as the next person to this.
“My Grandpa.” Patrick let out a strangled coughed before he started to cry. His body heaved as he sobbed; his body convulsing violently. Oh my god. He fucking found him. Dead. Billie Joe wrapped his arms around the slightly broader shoulders of the crying boy; shifting unnoticeably so he could gently rock him into calmness.
“He was on the floor,” Patrick continued through tears. “I looked at his chest and it wasn’t rising or falling. I didn’t panic though; I don’t think it sunk in. I calmly walked out of the room, down the stairs and to the front door. I locked it, like I was leaving normally and walked to Pete’s. Only when I got there and he let me inside I completely shattered. Falling into his arms, I panicked and cried so much I threw up on his carpet.” Patrick quietened down again. Billie Joe wondered why he’d stopped. Said man lifted up Patrick’s head so he could see his face. Patrick looked him straight in the eyes and Billie Joe stared back into huge sorrowful orbs. The elder rubbed his thumbs over the, what seemed ever lasting, tear stains and lent forward to kiss the shorter boy on the forehead lovingly.
“I couldn’t bring myself to tell Pete what had happened ‘til some hour later. He was so dedicated to me; he’d put up with that whole hour of crying and comforted me. When I told him I thought my Grandpa was dead, he walked with me back to the house, took my keys and went inside to make sure. He never doubted me; he just wanted to make sure. He was so fucking… I dunno, brave? I’d never go into a house to see if someone was dead. But that’s what you do for friends right?” he asked. Billie Joe only nodded, there would be no way in hell he’d do that. Pete was one in a million.
“How long ago was this Patrick?” Billie Joe asked him once he felt it was the right time to talk again, the silence was deafening after 15 or so minutes.
“Nine years ago.” He replied.
“And you never told anyone how you felt?” Billie Joe voiced his thoughts. Patrick shook his head,
“Never. You’re the first person I’ve told this to, not even Pete knows my feelings like I’ve just told you. I used to just go to Pete’s every year on this day and he’d let me lie in his bed with him. He’d wait until I’d either cried myself to sleep or fallen into sleep which was aided by a couple of sleeping pills.” He said his tears by now subsiding. Billie Joe looked him in the eyes,
“Don’t you ever, ever keep things like this to yourself again okay?” he told him firmly but kindly. “I don’t want to see you like this, and I’m sure Pete and your other friends don’t either. You promise me?” He said. Patrick nodded,
“I promise.” He leant up and pressed a light, quick kiss on the ebony haired man’s lips.
“Pete’ll be wondering where I am. Maybe I should ring him and tell him I’m okay.” He thought reaching for Billie Joe’s phone. But the green eyed man stopped him,
“You can in a second okay? Just lie here with me for a bit, you must be so tired.” He put Patrick’s head back on his chest, who quickly found his heartbeat which lulled him,
“Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome.” Billie Joe replied.
Within minutes Billie Joe sensed regularity in Patrick’s breathing. He fished out his phone and dialled Pete’s number,
“I’ve got him Pete, he’s okay. I’ll drop him off in the morning if he want’s to. Cya.”
Billie Joe rested his hand atop of Patrick’s shoulders and looked upon the lake, sighing contently, thinking and offering quiet shushes to the boy in his arms whenever he stirred.
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Hope you liked. I enjoyed writing it. Con crit is encouraged but please don’t be too harsh as this story is something quite personal to me, even though it’s been changed a lot.
-----------------
Please comment if you read it. I cant improve unless Im told of my downfalls. It doesnt take two minutes to comment...