Status: Posting.
To Hands Between Legs
prologue.
Prologue.
The first time they met wasn’t anything special. Matter of fact, it was the simplest way possible: she was the diner’s hostess. It wasn’t fireworks in his eyes, or butterflies in his stomach because she batted her eyes at him. She was singing when the three walked in. Fleetwood Mac played smoothly on the speaker, the waitress counting her singles at the register. She sang loudly, shaking her hip-. Patrick wanted to join her in song, but he had only heard this song a few times and didn’t really know the lyrics. So he waited for Ryan to cough to get the waitress’s attention, and leaned on his foot. She looked up from her wad of singles and smiled wide with her crimson lips. Ryan glanced at him with a small smirk. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her the whole time they were there. Neither could Ryan.
Now he’s holding her hand like his life depended on it. She’s cold and stiff, and the tears just can’t seem to stop falling. He’s shaking her, trying to get her eyes to open. He moves so her head is in his lap, strokes her hair. He opens his mouth, words fall out as he tries talking to her. The words morph into sobs and he’s choking now. He wonders what she feels like, so cold. He’s still stroking her and holding onto her hand tight when the EMTs come. Apparently the sirens have been going off outside the window, but he’s sobbing so loud he couldn’t hear them. The man with a wispy moustache is asking Patrick to tell him what happened but he doesn’t know. He doesn’t fucking know.
He goes on the ambulance truck with her. The EMTs work hard to keep up on her. Their mouths form words but Patrick can’t hear. He only hears a small buzzing in ears that won’t go away. Why won’t it go away? He doesn’t know how he could let this happen. Oh god, he was such an idiot for letting her go off and do this. If he’d grab her hand before she walked away, he wouldn’t be sitting here right now. If he’d only been there when he was supposed to be. He’s heard before that thinking about the things that you could’ve done to prevent things can drive you crazy. Too bad he already is.
He sits in the waiting room, waiting for her family and their friends to show up. His eyes are red and puffy and his hands won’t stop moving. When Ryan and Pete show up, all he can think about is the day they met her. He can't look at Ryan. All he can think about is her.
Pete sits down next him, offering a small sad smile. Patrick lays his head on his best friend’s shoulder. He dreams:
The first time they met wasn’t anything special. Matter of fact, it was the simplest way possible: she was the diner’s hostess. It wasn’t fireworks in his eyes, or butterflies in his stomach because she batted her eyes at him. She was singing when the three walked in. Fleetwood Mac played smoothly on the speaker, the waitress counting her singles at the register. She sang loudly, shaking her hip-. Patrick wanted to join her in song, but he had only heard this song a few times and didn’t really know the lyrics. So he waited for Ryan to cough to get the waitress’s attention, and leaned on his foot. She looked up from her wad of singles and smiled wide with her crimson lips. Ryan glanced at him with a small smirk. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her the whole time they were there. Neither could Ryan.
Now he’s holding her hand like his life depended on it. She’s cold and stiff, and the tears just can’t seem to stop falling. He’s shaking her, trying to get her eyes to open. He moves so her head is in his lap, strokes her hair. He opens his mouth, words fall out as he tries talking to her. The words morph into sobs and he’s choking now. He wonders what she feels like, so cold. He’s still stroking her and holding onto her hand tight when the EMTs come. Apparently the sirens have been going off outside the window, but he’s sobbing so loud he couldn’t hear them. The man with a wispy moustache is asking Patrick to tell him what happened but he doesn’t know. He doesn’t fucking know.
He goes on the ambulance truck with her. The EMTs work hard to keep up on her. Their mouths form words but Patrick can’t hear. He only hears a small buzzing in ears that won’t go away. Why won’t it go away? He doesn’t know how he could let this happen. Oh god, he was such an idiot for letting her go off and do this. If he’d grab her hand before she walked away, he wouldn’t be sitting here right now. If he’d only been there when he was supposed to be. He’s heard before that thinking about the things that you could’ve done to prevent things can drive you crazy. Too bad he already is.
He sits in the waiting room, waiting for her family and their friends to show up. His eyes are red and puffy and his hands won’t stop moving. When Ryan and Pete show up, all he can think about is the day they met her. He can't look at Ryan. All he can think about is her.
Pete sits down next him, offering a small sad smile. Patrick lays his head on his best friend’s shoulder. He dreams: