Truly Madly Deeply

Prologue

He sat still in one of the stools in the kitchen, his palms resting on his thighs, blackberry on the table. Every now and then he would glance at his phone in case there was a message from Patrick, but there was none. He had tried calling Patrick, but his phone was turned off. He had left messages in his voicemail, but no return calls came.

The seconds stretched into minutes, the minutes into an hour, and as the clock hit the hour of nine, Kevin could no longer deny the panic rising in his chest. And before he knew it, his eyes were becoming clouded with tears.

Patrick was gone. Patrick was not coming back.

Kevin refused to acknowledge the thought but the more he did, the more it seemed to assert itself. Suddenly the apartment seemed so vast and quiet, the apartment that they, Kevin and Patrick, already considered a home though they just moved in it together for no more than twenty-four hours. It used to be home, or at least it felt like one, but now, after their horrible fight last night, it had become an empty space in which Kevin felt trapped, whatever peace of mind he had left was gradually being replaced by a sense of impending doom that threatened to engulf him.

The dread he felt was such it was beginning to suffocate him.

How gallant and steadfast he thought of himself, like a goddamned knight in a shining armor of the medieval tales, mounted on a fucking steed, when he up and declared he had wanted complete honesty, that what he had with Jon he didn't want to have with Patrick, who, in this case, was the proverbial damsel in distress. It was perhaps the most faithful thing, the most romantic even, a lover could profess to anyone, but then again we were talking about Patrick Murray, and Patrick, unlike anyone, had a mind of his own, a mind that worked quite differently than the others. And when the cogwheels of his mind start to turn, there was no stopping them. Patrick more often than not thought of the worst things that could possibly happen. He could get really paranoid, to put it lightly. For what was plain and simple, Patrick could manage to twist into something more complicated.

How the hell did Patrick arrive at the conclusion that Kevin wanted an open relationship? Where the fuck did that come from? He had promised to be honest to Patrick if he did slip up. But Patrick, in some way, had found a way to misconstrue it for a hall pass to fuck around. 

How the hell did he come to this point, Kevin thought to himself, as the silence of the room became too oppressive to be borne. In retrospect, it was just an infatuation, what he felt for Patrick, some fucking butterflies fluttering in his stomach. Yes, that's what all it was, an innocent thing, or so Kevin thought. But he couldn't be more wrong.  It was more than that, and even worse, Kevin thought, for it had become an obsession, that he simply couldn't stop thinking of Patrick, so much it was beginning to become a "fucking problem". It would die out eventually, Kevin thought, and hoped. But Kevin couldn't be more wrong. What was simply an infatuation, which gradually turned into an obsession, has become something more potent, all-consuming. Kevin suspected he knew what it was. But he didn't have the balls to put a name to it.

But whether he acknowledges it or not, the fact that he was deep in love with Patrick could not be denied. Love. Well, Patrick surely was easy to love. Handsome, smart, Patrick was the complete package. And not to mention that oh so perfect body of his. Hmmm. Kevin could not stop thinking about the many ways he could fuck Patrick senseless, how he would bring Patrick right to the edge, watching his hard cock glistening and throbbing with desire as Kevin gripped both Patrick's wrists, not letting him come. How Kevin found it erotic to hear Patrick moaning to his ears, as he begged Kevin for release. And when Patrick would do the same things to Kevin, like when Patrick fucked him against the glass window. The thought catapults Kevin to cloud nine. Kevin also thought of the small things. Patrick's pathetic jokes, his quirks, his childishness. His possessiveness. Seeing Patrick wearing Kevin's underwear, man that was so intimate, or so Kevin thought. And the gray sweater with the French bulldog print, how cute. Yes, Kevin loved Patrick so fucking much.

So could this be it? The end. Kevin, in all his life, never believed that God exists, but now, he felt like praying to anything or anyone, just to see Patrick, to try and reason with him, to hold and kiss him in his arms for, perhaps, the last time. He shuddered at the unwelcome thought. God, if you do exist, please, don't let this come to an end.

Then, as if the Almighty had heard Kevin's challenge, Kevin heard the key slid into the doorknob. And as the door opened, what Kevin saw was something he was not prepared for.