To Hate is to Love

•14• And in the end...

A/N: Trigger warning; self harm
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[Patrick]

Things have changed throughout everyone's lives over the next month. Nothing huge but small changes matter too.

Pete re-enrolled in school after his roommate had left for Wisconsin, so now he officially shares a dorm with me, which is both good and bad. You can probably guess why.

Joe cut his hair only to complain about it two days later, then said, and I quote, "The fro needs to come back, it keeps me warm." So now he's growing it out again.

Frank finally asked out his crush, Gerard, and they now hang out on a regular basis. I'm not entirely sure if they've done anything more than hold hands just yet, but I'm glad he finally did it.

Gabe hooked up with his roommate William one night when we all decided to play truth or dare at his place. Not sure if they still fuck around or not but if they do, good for them.

Brendon is...well he's pretty much still the same. He lives with his boyfriend Ryan, they're happy, blah, blah, blah. You get the picture.

But even though all of that may seem all normal and happy, something else had changed that made me uneasy.

It was Pete.

Arguing and fighting was a norm for us, physically hurting each other was something we did when our tempers had collided and crashed into each other. How I knew something was wrong was when all of that just stopped. Pete wouldn't yell, he wouldn't get angry, he'd barely even speak, and I know some of it may seem like a good thing but it's not.

He just mopes around and wears his hoodie whole he's inside all the time, sitting on the couch and staring at the blank screen. I should ask what's wrong with him, it's really bothering me and honestly I'm kind of scared.

[Pete]

Everything has spiraled out of control. My depression has gotten worse, I used to have meds for it but I can't remember where I kept them. I think they were at Andy and I's old apartment. I don't know and I don't really care. I had meds for other things too; anxiety, bipolar disorder, but I stopped taking those a long time ago.

Maybe this is a sign that I should just give it all up. My life's going nowhere and as the days go on, I get more and more convinced that I don't have a future. Not with Patrick, not with anyone. Because, eventually, Patrick is going to realize how much of a fuck up I am then he's going to drop me like an anchor into the middle of the ocean. At least then I won't be taking him down with me. He deserves so much more than me, all I will do is taint his waters and hold him back. Patrick doesn't need that. He doesn't need me.

I'm better off dead.

As I'm sitting on the couch I see Patrick come into the living room from my peripheral. I don't look up at him, don't acknowledge him in the slightest. I hear his feet shuffle along the carpet and they grow a little louder with each step. Hopefully he'll just walk past and ignore me.

His steps get louder and louder until...they stop directly in front of me. I refuse to look up at him. If he can read me as easily as he says he can then I don't want him to look directly at me. One glance into my eyes and he'll figure me out, he'll never forgive me if he finds out what I did.

Patrick kneels down in front of me, getting eye level with me. I can feel his gaze on my face, but I don't want to look at him. He's silent for what seems like an eternity before he finally says a word.

"Pete." He says quietly, almost like a whisper. I can tell he's trying to be careful with his voice, he probably thinks the wrong word or tone could break me. Crush me even. "Please look at me."

I continue to refuse, I'm too afraid of what he'll see.

"Please, Pete." He says softly, gently placing his hand on my thigh and cups my cheek with the other. I've never seen this side of Patrick before, the comforting, kind side of him. Hell, I didn't even know he had one. This is so different from the Patrick I'm used to.

I hesitantly look up from my lap and connect my eyes to his. He looks scared and worried, which is another first. He's never once looked at me like this before, not even when we first met.

"Talk to me, Pete. What's the matter?" He asks.

I stare into his bright eyes a moment before speaking. "Don't act like you care." I say bitterly.

"I do care. I wouldn't be here right now if I didn't." He moves his hand from my thigh and places it on my wrist, swiping his thumb over my pulse. Then he pauses. Shit.

He furrows his brow in confusion, looking at me with a look that says, 'this better not be what I think it is'. He glances down at my left hand, back to me, then back down. I swallow thickly. It's too late, he already knows.

He takes both of his hands and slowly rolls up the sleeve of my hoodie, I hiss slightly when the material catches on some of the fresher wounds. Once the sleeve is up to my elbow he stares at the cuts littered across my forearm. Some are scabbing over and others are lined with dried blood.

"Why?" Patrick whispers, looking back up at me with sad, worrying eyes.

I sigh. "Maybe I have a death wish."

Patrick shakes his head sadly. He leans closer then rests his forehead against mine, cupping my face with his hands. "I hate seeing you like this, Pete. I need you to be okay "

"No matter how hard I try to be, I will never be okay." I admit. "I'm no good, Patrick. The world hates my guts."

"I don't hate you." Patrick says.

I scoff. "Yes you do, everyone does."

Patrick doesn't respond right away, he instead pulls my face closer to his and presses his lips to mine. It's a lot different from the other times we've kissed, it wasn't harsh or desperate. It was sweet and passionate, this is the first time we've kissed without it being sparked from a fight. I like it. It makes my heart flutter and makes me feel warm inside. I've heard about this feeling, but never felt it until this very moment.

When we break apart, Patrick says, "I love you, Pete. I don't know what I'd do without you. We're going to get through this, okay? I care so much about you."

"You're just going to leave the second something better comes along. I can't say that I blame you, though." I say.

"I'm not going anywhere." He says. "There's nothing better than being here with you. I wouldn't trade you for anything." Then he smiles lovingly, pecking my lips.

"I love you so much, Patrick." I whisper, then connect our lips once again.

Maybe I will be okay, maybe we'll be okay. I just need Patrick, without him I'd be nothing, probably dead in a ditch somewhere. Patrick is what's keeping me alive, my lifeline, my reason to exist. No one's ever said anything like what he said to me before, not once. But I feel like things will change for the better, I have hope knowing that I won't be alone.

My heart beats for Patrick. Can you hear it?

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A/N: End of the road.