A Little Less Brutal Murder, A Little More Touch Me

Scar Crossed Lovers

The sky was a burnt orange and darkening by the minute. Pete hadn’t realised how long the walk would be, and his legs were killing him. He couldn’t bear to imagine how much pain Patrick was in. Just the thought of it all made him want to cry, to hold him tight and never let go. He was going to make Courtney pay for what she did to him - he would make them all pay.

Before long, they had found a mausoleum amongst the gravestones that they would be able to hide in, at least for now. Pete used his bass sword to prise the door open; he kicked the dirt away and slid the jacket off his shoulders to lay it on the floor.

He gestured for Patrick to lie on it, “You need to get some sleep.”

“But so do you,”

Pete stepped closer to the door. “Maybe, but one of us needs to keep watch, so I’ll do it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. And if you want, I could wake you up in a few hours to take over?”

“That sounds good.”

He smiled softly at Pete and placed his hand on his shoulder. Pete lay his hand on top of Patrick’s and gazed into his eyes. He could get lost in those baby blues forever.

Eventually, he had to snap out of it so he took his hand away and stepped out the door.

“Night, Trick,”

“Goodnight,Pete,”

He turned away and closed the door behind him.

There was a clear patch of grass next to the mausoleum where he chose to sit. It was cold and slightly damp, but it didn’t bother him; if anything - it was a welcome sensation after all the running that day.

After scanning the area around him and not noticing anything out of the ordinary - or at least, different. None of this was fucking ordinary! His two best friends were dead, and Patrick was-
No. He couldn’t think about that. Not right now. He just needed to get through this, there was nothing he could do at that moment. Deciding it was the best way to clear his head, he lay down on the grass, gazing up at the slowly appearing stars in the darkness above.

Pete had lost count of how long he’d been lying in the grass, next to the mausoleum, staring up at the stars. It was surprisingly peaceful, if you ignored the situation. When he heard a creaking noise and footsteps softly approaching, his body snapped upright and he gripped the bass blade. Patrick raised his hands - well, hand and hook - up in a mock surrender, “It’s me,”

Pete relaxed. “I thought you were asleep?”

“And I thought you were going to wake me up.”

“Well you’re awake now, aren’t you?”

He moved to sit down next to him, “Have you been lying here the whole time?”

Pete nodded, “Alone with the stars and my thoughts, rarely a good combination.”

“Well, how about I lie here with you? We can be alone together,” He lay back on the grass and put his hand under his head. The movement pulled up his shirt slightly so part of his abdomen was visible -

“HOLY SHIT!”

Patrick lifted his head up to see Pete kneeling beside him pulling his shirt up further to get a better look at the huge scar to his left side. “What the FUCK did they do to you!?”

He shook his head, “Don’t worry about it,” he looked for something to change the subject to, his eyes landed on the numerous gashes and bloodstains on Pete’s body. “God, look at yourself-“ panic settled in him and tears began to form as he realised. “How many of these did I cause? I am so sorry! Im so-“

“Hey, hey, look at me.” Pete cupped Patrick’s face with his hands, “You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for. Okay? I know it wasn’t you, it’s not your fault, it’s okay.” He pulled Patrick into a tight embrace, faces buried in each other’s shoulders. He could feel him trying not to cry. Pete wished he could hold him tighter, but at the risk of hurting Patrick, he didn’t dare.

A few minutes passed and Pete leaned back a little. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

Patrick sighed shakily and nodded. “Do you remember what happened when we were first captured?”

“Sort of, we were blindfolded, and there were drugs, and food, and it’s all pretty hazy from there.”

“Well, the food wasn’t all that you ate…”

It took Pete a moment before he put two and two together. It felt like all the air had been kicked out of him. “Oh fuck, no!” His hand shot to his mouth, he felt sick. He couldn’t believe it, didn’t want to believe it. He was crying now, and Patrick was too. He pulled him close again.

“Holy shit Trick, I am so sorry!”

“It’s okay.”

“No it’s not! None of this is fucking okay! I promise you, we are going to put this right!”

Patrick pulled apart from Pete and took his hand. “Come on,” He led him into the mausoleum, “There is nothing you can do in this state, and there’s no one around for miles, so you are getting some sleep.”

Pete began to protest, but Patrick was stubborn. “I already got a couple hours, and now you need to do at least the same.”

Patrick closed the door and went to sit on the steps outside, but when he saw two figures not far from him, he stopped. As they got closer, he recognised them.

“What the fuck!?”