I Do I Did

Forty Nine

Who knew that newborn babies had to be fed every 2-3 hours? Patrick and Pete definitely didn't. It was either feed him two ounces of milk every two hours or three ounces of milk every three hours. So of course they chose the three ounces. Thinking that meant they'd get sleep in increments of three hours.

They forgot to take other things into consideration. Like diaper changes or just the little guy being cranky for attention. He whined and he cried and he stirred and they didn't sleep.

But finally, around four in the morning, the baby went to sleep in Patrick's arms. It only took a few minutes for him to master the art of holding an infant with a messed up hand. He looked back in excitement to show Pete. But when he did, he saw that Pete was slumped into the small couch. His head tilted back and his lips slightly parted. Of course he'd fallen asleep. Now it was Patrick's turn to do the same.

He placed the small boy into his bed. Staring for a few seconds to make sure he didn't shift in discomfort. When he was satisfied that the baby was satisfied, he walked over to Pete. There definitely wasn't enough room on the couch for two. He guessed that meant he was going to head back to his own hospital room. The one the doctor told him not to leave in the first place.

He leaned down to kiss Pete, but his body protested. Fine, no goodnight kiss for his husband. The soreness in his ribs started to intensify when he was holding the newborn. But of course he'd ignored it because Pete needed the help. Now that everyone was asleep, he could finally pop another pain med and relax.

When Patrick stepped into the hallway he realized he didn't know where his room was. He knew the general area he'd come from, but not the exact room. He wanted to go to the front desk and ask but that would be way too embarrassing.

Excuse me, I'm a patient here and it seems I forgot my own room number.

He wasn't going to do that. He could find it himself. He walked down the cold, empty hallway and peeked into a few of the open doors. He wished he had his phone to call and see if Brendon or Ryan were in there. But he didn't so he was stuck doing it this way. Peeking into stranger's hospital rooms.

When Patrick got to the end of the hall he began to feel worried. Maybe he didn't know the general area of his room. Maybe he was on the wrong hall. He stuck his head into the final room. His eyes scanned the area until they landed on the bed. On a head of dark hair that Patrick knew all to well.

His curiosity got the better of him as he found himself stepping quietly into the room. Practically tiptoeing to the side of the bed. Just to stare down at the sleeping man who'd betrayed his trust on extreme levels.

How the tables had turned. Patrick was no longer the weak, impressionable man Andy had taken advantage of. The self conscious man that Andy used and hurt. Patrick was a new person thanks to Pete. He was happy and confident and strong. And now Andy was the weak one. Sleeping in the hospital bed connected to tubes and IVs.

Patrick wasn't sure how to feel.

The word relieved came to mind. Yes, maybe he was a little relieved. Because Andy lying in this bed meant he didn't have the power to hurt Patrick anymore. At least not physically. He was going to go to jail for a long time for what he did to him. For what he did to Pete. For what he did to Meagan. He'd hurt a lot of people.

That wasn't the Andy that Patrick knew. That wasn't the same kid who'd found the dorky kid in highschool and befriended him. That wasn't the same kid who held him when he finally came out as gay to his family. That wasn't the same man who'd hold Patrick at night and kiss him awake in the mornings. The man who would paint hearts all over Patrick's body when they were bored. The man who loved him more than himself for years. This couldn't be the same person. Because Patrick loved that person. He would always love that person.