Just One Yesterday (The Last Of The Real Ones Sequel) // Patrick Stump

6. This Is The Art, The Art Of Keeping Up Disappearances

The next morning I woke up feeling....not so great. It was around 11:30 when I had jumped awake, nausea in the pit of my stomach. I had run to the bathroom, waking Patrick in the process, throwing open the toilet and vomiting.

And this had gone on for an hour.

Patrick only left my side once to bring me a gatorade and some ice, but sat on the floor beside me, holding my hair whenever I needed to be sick again.

I let out a deep sigh, laying my head against him. "I thought this was only part of first trimester, man." I complained. He seemed distracted, so I sighed again, before I snapped at him. "Patrick."

He looked up at me, an empathetic look written on his features. "I'm sorry you don't feel well." He gave me puppy dog eyes, planting a soft kiss on my forehead.

He looked up at the clock and as he did so, he tensed up.

I stared at him for a moment, slightly annoyed. I know he wanted to go get that record or whatever but....was that so important right now? His pregnant girlfriend needed him and that's what was on his mind?

I scoffed, and he looked apologetic. "What?" He asked softly.

"If you wanna go, just go." I brushed my hair behind my ear, before mumbling. "I feel better anyways."

He glanced at the time again, shaking his head. "I don't want to leave you."

"It's fine." I grunted, brining myself to my feet. He attempted to help but I was too pissed off to let him assist.

"Why are you mad?" He muttered softly.

"I'm not," I sighed; I was just a little annoyed right now. "Just go, Patrick. Go get that record, okay?"

"Okay..." he mumbled as I laid back down in bed, reaching for the remote and turning the television on. He came over and gave me a kiss. "I'll be back okay?"

I nodded, and he lingered for a moment, before heading out of the room. After he shut the door I heard him full-on run down the hallway.

I let out an annoyed groan, flipping him off through the door. I didn't really mean it, I just really didn't feel well and it felt like he was so moody and weird over the past few days.

And the truth is, I'm scared.

And I need him.

I broke down a bit, tears streaming down my face. I quickly wiped them away though as I felt another wave of nausea. I sighed, hopping out of bed and running back to the bathroom to throw up in the toilet.

I rubbed my hands through my hair roughly, shutting my eyes and taking a deep breath. I needed a nap already.

I heard a knock on the door, causing me to look up.

"Who is it?" I called, a hint of annoyance in my voice.

"It's Cole..." the voice on the other side of the voice said. "Can I come in?"

I brought myself to my feet slowly and painfully. "Sure, come in."

Cole stepped inside, looking around until he realised I was in the bathroom. "You okay?" He mumbled as he shut the door.

"I'm fine." I muttered, making my way out of the bathroom and over to him. "You need something or..?"

He shook his head. "I just saw...Patrick taking off somewhere." He muttered. "Where's he heading to?"