One Hundred Sleepless Nights
Night Seven ~ Come Together, Come Apart
Pete moves in with his new girlfriend on a Monday.
He spends Tuesday rearranging the house with her.
On Wednesday, Patrick still hasn't called him.
On Thursday, he decides to go get some of his stuff from Patrick's house, but his girlfriend needs help decorating their room.
Finally, on Friday, he makes enough time to go grab his things from Patrick's. He tries calling first, but gets no answer. He shrugs off that odd feeling in his chest and drives over anyway. He hops up the two steps to the porch and knocks on Patrick's door. Seconds tick by, and Pete knocks again.
Knock.
Knock.
He rings the doorbell.
Ring.
Ring.
The door opens to reveal a disheveled looking Patrick. His glasses are crooked, his hair sticking up at odd angles, and he's still in his pajamas. Patrick's face is in bitch mode, and there are dark circles around his eyes.
"What do you want?"
"Someone isn't in a good mood."
"Fuck off," Patrick growls.
Pete's smile fades. What happened to the Patrick he knew? Where was the loving, caring Patrick?
"So what do you want?" He asks again.
"I-I came to get my stuff."
"Good."
Patrick walks back in the house, leaving the door open. Pete walks in hesitantly, not sure why Patrick is so pissed at him. The living room is full of crumpled up papers and empty beer bottles. There's at least three empty tissue boxes and a trash can full of tissues right next to it.
"Are you sick?" Pete asks.
Patrick glares at him from across the room. He throws down a box of Pete's stuff, and slaps Pete across the face.
"You're the one who's sick. Get the fuck out of my house."
"What's wrong with you? What did I do?"
Patrick starts to cry, the sound of his wails filling the room. Pete tries to walk toward him and comfort him, but Patrick takes a swing at him.
"Get out," The blond boy sobs. "And don't come back."
Tears fill Pete's eyes as he picks up the box. He starts walking toward the door, but turns back to look at Patrick.
"I don't know what I did... But I'm sorry."
"Just get out," Patrick hiccups.
"Patrick, I-"
"GET OUT, PETE!"
Patrick throws a beer bottle, and it shatters against the wall. Pete gives Patrick one last look before running out of the door. He drives home crying, tears almost blinding him. He makes his way into his house, and lays down on the bed, crying into his pillow. His girlfriend was at work, so he could cry as loud as he wanted. He looks at the box and pulls it closer to him. He tugs out a book that definitely didn't look like his. He opened it and realized it was a scrapbook full of pictures. Pictures of him and Patrick. More tears rolled down his cheeks as he went through the contents of the box. He found one of Patrick's hoodies that Pete had gotten him, and put it to his face, breathing in the scent. It still smelled like him. He curled up in the over sized hoodie, and tried to sleep.
But sleep never came.
He spends Tuesday rearranging the house with her.
On Wednesday, Patrick still hasn't called him.
On Thursday, he decides to go get some of his stuff from Patrick's house, but his girlfriend needs help decorating their room.
Finally, on Friday, he makes enough time to go grab his things from Patrick's. He tries calling first, but gets no answer. He shrugs off that odd feeling in his chest and drives over anyway. He hops up the two steps to the porch and knocks on Patrick's door. Seconds tick by, and Pete knocks again.
Knock.
Knock.
He rings the doorbell.
Ring.
Ring.
The door opens to reveal a disheveled looking Patrick. His glasses are crooked, his hair sticking up at odd angles, and he's still in his pajamas. Patrick's face is in bitch mode, and there are dark circles around his eyes.
"What do you want?"
"Someone isn't in a good mood."
"Fuck off," Patrick growls.
Pete's smile fades. What happened to the Patrick he knew? Where was the loving, caring Patrick?
"So what do you want?" He asks again.
"I-I came to get my stuff."
"Good."
Patrick walks back in the house, leaving the door open. Pete walks in hesitantly, not sure why Patrick is so pissed at him. The living room is full of crumpled up papers and empty beer bottles. There's at least three empty tissue boxes and a trash can full of tissues right next to it.
"Are you sick?" Pete asks.
Patrick glares at him from across the room. He throws down a box of Pete's stuff, and slaps Pete across the face.
"You're the one who's sick. Get the fuck out of my house."
"What's wrong with you? What did I do?"
Patrick starts to cry, the sound of his wails filling the room. Pete tries to walk toward him and comfort him, but Patrick takes a swing at him.
"Get out," The blond boy sobs. "And don't come back."
Tears fill Pete's eyes as he picks up the box. He starts walking toward the door, but turns back to look at Patrick.
"I don't know what I did... But I'm sorry."
"Just get out," Patrick hiccups.
"Patrick, I-"
"GET OUT, PETE!"
Patrick throws a beer bottle, and it shatters against the wall. Pete gives Patrick one last look before running out of the door. He drives home crying, tears almost blinding him. He makes his way into his house, and lays down on the bed, crying into his pillow. His girlfriend was at work, so he could cry as loud as he wanted. He looks at the box and pulls it closer to him. He tugs out a book that definitely didn't look like his. He opened it and realized it was a scrapbook full of pictures. Pictures of him and Patrick. More tears rolled down his cheeks as he went through the contents of the box. He found one of Patrick's hoodies that Pete had gotten him, and put it to his face, breathing in the scent. It still smelled like him. He curled up in the over sized hoodie, and tried to sleep.
But sleep never came.