Internet Scales (Patrick/Pete)

9

Patrick's POV

Pete was on his way. He was two hours into his four and a half hour flight. It was ten in the morning and I stumbled into the kitchen and my cornflakes and coffee was set out on the table. My dad had already eating his and was cleaning the house. I sit at the table in my normal place and start shoveling down my cornflakes, washing them down with bitter coffee.
"What time is Pete arriving?"

"Two hours." I say with my mouth full of soggy cornflakes.

"When are you getting dressed? Also, don't eat so fast" I sigh.

"After I've finished this dad. I only just got up" He tuts and goes off to hoover. 

I finish my breakfast and put the dishes in the sink to be washed. My dad was hoovering in the lounge and I go into my room and close the door. I remembered the shirt that Pete had sent me for my birthday a few years ago. It was a pastel purple faded into pastel blue. It was really pretty but there was no way I was going to fit into it. I take off the white shirt that I slept in and threw it onto the floor. Grabbing the shirt, I place it over my pale skin. It was so small. How on earth did I ever fit into that? Like, I swear I was never that small. I look at the tag on the neck of the shirt. It was a medium. What the hell. When did I fit into medium sized clothing? I look at my large frame in the mirror. Why had I been so irresponsible to allow my body to become this way and let my health get so bad. I was wary of what I ate because I could easily tip over from borderline diabetes to type two diabetes. I was really scared. I got the scales out of my wardrobe, along with a XXL shirt to cover up my stomach. I slowly stepped on the scales and the arrow swung round to eighteen stone. I stepped off quickly and the red pointer swung back to zero. I pulled on my good pair of "skinny" jeans and brushed my hazel hair and placed my large black framed glasses on my nose. I forced myself to smile. I didn't look too bad I suppose. 
"Patrick, you ready?"

"Yeah"

I waited in the car until I got a text from Pete telling me that he had arrived. Me and Dad listened to the radio for a while before he turned it down in order to talk to me.
"I was thinking of letting you two get takeaway tonight." I looked at him. "You look good in those glasses son" I smiled at him.
"Thanks dad" 
"When was the last time you weighed yourself?" I looked at him. He'd been mentioning my weight too much recently. I know he was worried but it was featured in every conversation we had since I was in hospital.
"Yeah..."

"Can you tell me how much?"

"You'll be disappointed in me..." I looked down into my lap. I felt really uncomfortable and just needed air.

"I won't Patrick. I promise." Some how I felt like that wasn't 100% true.

"I'm eighteen stone" He was quiet for a second.

"Okay. "

"Are you annoyed?"  I asked him. He was quiet again.

"No. Just... just I didn't realize that you were that much..." He sounded a mixture of disappointed and sad.

"I'm gonna go get Pete..." He didn't reply and I heaved myself up and out of the car. 

Pete: I'm at the hot dog stand. Where are you? 

Patrick: On my way

I saw Pete for the first time in real life from afar. I didn't realize it was him at first but I recognized him by his black emo fringe. I just watched him for a while before a man pushed into me.
"Watch where you're going chubby!" He shouted at me. I came back to reality. I had to go up to Pete. What if he realized how big I really was and hated me? Shut up Patrick, you'll be fine.  I go over to him and tap his shoulder.
"Pete?" He spins around and looks at me, a smile spreading across his face. He says nothing but grabs my arm and pulls me into a tight hug.