Internet Scales (Patrick/Pete)

7

Patrick's POV

When I came around, my dad was sitting in a chair at the end of the bed. I was attached to several machines, one was beeping steady and the other was some kinda drip. How long had I been asleep? I looked at my dad. He got up and came over to me, his eyes teary. 
"Patrick"

"What happened? How long have I been out?" My chest felt tight but nowhere was near as what it had been, at least I could speak.

"You had a very very bad asthma attack. The doctors have got you some inhalers that you must use if you feel like you can't breath correctly." I looked to the side table and there was various inhalers. "They said that to minimize future attacks, you will have to lose some weight. You're also pre-diabetic."

 All that information hit me hard. If I didn't do something, I wouldn't be able to meet Pete.

"Pete..." I mutter.

"Hm?"

"Pete must be worried."

"Just focus on getting better at the moment. You'll be let out of here this afternoon and then we will focus on getting you to lose weight."

After about a week, I had lost nearly a stone. My dad was helping me a lot. He had got me a new bike, healthy foods and made both of our portions smaller.  It was hard work. I was sitting on my bed listening to David Bowie. It was about lunch time and Pete messaged me as I was scrolling through twitter.

Pete: Hey Patrick!

Patrick: Hey!

Pete: You're alive!

Patrick: Yeah, sorry for not talking. I had a really bad asthma attack and have pre-diabetes and need to lose weight

Pete: Aw Patrick

Patrick: You were right. I'm sorry I didn't listen to you earlier, I might not be in this state if I had

Pete: It's okay. I'm glad you're getting sorted.

Patrick: Oh and they also diagnosed me with insomnia and I'm on meds

Pete: Great! I wanna hug you right now

Pete: Oh and on that subject

Patrick: What?

Pete: I've ordered my plane tickets. I fly in three days