Internet Scales (Patrick/Pete)

25 - Walking failure

Have another chapter today as I'm feeling generous, Jess xx

Patrick's POV

I got out of hospital three days later. It was such a relief. I had a new set of inhalers but I had to be extra careful with everything. I was really really close to tipping over to type two diabetes. Like really close. It was just because of my unhealthy lifestyle. I was still severely overweight for my age and height. I was about eighteen stone. Pete's mum had flown back home. I never got to see her. Pete said she said he could stay as long as he wanted. My dad was ordering him a bed to put in my room which he was pleased about. He had slept on both my bed and a pile of blankets on the floor and he changed every so often. 

When I got up in the morning, Pete was already awake. I stumbled into the lounge and he was sitting watching cartoons. I slumped into my usual chair.
"Morning sleepy head"
"What time is it?" I ask him.
"Half eleven" Pete tells me. Wow, I had overslept. "Your dad's at work."

"I guessed."
"You were sleeping talking" Pete looks at me. "Something about a guy called Donnie"
"He was a young boy in the hospital. I'd hear him screaming every night. He was schizophrenic but he had a weak heart so he was on my ward. He'd scream about a guy called Brendon and that he was 'coming for him' "
"You were telling him to stay strong..." Pete says. I looked into my lap. I hoped he was okay. He had been in a really bad way when I left. He had no visitors, ever. I felt so sorry for him. I went into his room sometimes and talked to him for a while. I did this for a few days. The nurses let me and took me to his room as he couldn't move from his bed. He was only twelve. 

Pete comes and kneels down in front of me and puts his hands on my knees. 
"Don't cry..." I hadn't realized that I was crying. I took my glasses off the lay them in my lap. Pete picks them up and puts them on and pulls a face. I smile but I didn't laugh.
"Come on Patty" Pete pokes my belly.
"Patty, really?"
"Yes" I giggle quietly. 
"Please don't poke my stomach though..." I wrap my arms around myself. 
"I'm sorry" He puts his chin on my knees and looks up at me with puppy dog eyes. 
"What do you want?"

"You?"
"Shut up, that's not true"
"Patrick... it is"
"You're blind. Why would you want me?"
"Because you're you and I love that."
"Why? I'm awful"

"No you're not. You just think you are" He tells me. I was awful though. I had never thought any differently. Ever since I had been told by my grandma that I shouldn't run around cause my stomach wobbled, I had lost all self confidence.  I was six at the time. I had got control of my body by the time I was ten I was a steady nine stone until I was fourteen and then I got to sixteen stone at fifteen. Now I'm eighteen stone at sixteen. I was a walking failure.