If You Ever Come Back ~Peterick Fanfic~

13 - Then Wake Up

Pete's POV

My head is hurting like hell after all that mind-talking stuff with Patrick, but it was totally worth it. The sound of his voice in my mind was like coming home after a long time of being away. It was like finally being at ease again.

I close my eyes and imagine him. He is probably sitting on the floor, his back against the wall. He always prefered to sit on the ground instead of a chair. I imagine his smile brightening his face as his eyes close and he leans his head back.

I'm tired but I don't want to let go of this, this moment of complete happiness. I realize it's been a while since I've felt happy. Since there is no sign of that darkness that is usually in my chest, surrounding my heart and filling my brain with thoughts that destroy me.

I sit down on my huge, kingsize bed and roll over on my side. My eyelids are starting to feel heavy and I know that it won't be long until I fall asleep. I try to fight the waves of weariness that come crashing down on me but the bed is so soft... and that feeling inside my heart is so warm and everything is nice and...

The room is dark and I can't see anything. I can sense that there is someone in there but I don't know who it is... or what it is. I step over the doorstep and a feeling of uneasiness takes hold of me. The feeling of being watched.

I turn around and the hairs on the back of my neck are standing straight up. The urge to run away and leave this place behind me is so strong that I can barely control it, but I manage to keep standing. I know why I came here, and I know that I won't leave without succeeding.

I keep walking and even though my legs are shaking horrendously bad, I keep going. At the end of the room I see a crack in the wooden planks blocking off the windows, allowing a small ray of moonlight to light up the place.

In that ray of moonlight, I see a silhouette. The figure is standing with their back towards me, preventing me from seeing their face.

"Patrick?", I whisper, and as soon as the words leave my lips, I know that this isn't Patrick. This is something way worse than Patrick, worse than anything I could ever imagine.

Despite my heart fluttering in my chest like a trapped bird rattling in a cage, I step forward.

"Patrick?", I ask again, and every time I say his name, the feeling that this is something way more horrifying gets stronger.

Finally, after what feels like a century of being alone with only my beating heart and weak knees, the silhouette turns around.