The Pros And Cons Of Breathing (Petetrick)

Thriller

PATRICK POV

Pete's room isn't far down the hall, but in the short time it takes to get there, I'm already terrified of the ward. Security cards are standing every few doors, and the sound of crying and the occasional scream echo through the corridor. I shudder as I realize clinically insane people are locked behind these doors, Pete would be one of the less severe cases.

"Why can't I have a book? Did someone slit their throat with paper cuts?" A feminine voice yells angrily further down the hall. Doctor Temple gives me a grim smile and knocks on a door to his right. Its opened a few seconds later by a young man.

"Go and have a coffee Jack." Doctor Temple nods to him, before turning to me. "Pete is still under twenty four hour supervision. Now I'm going to go in first, just wait here a moment until I call you in. Depending on how he reacts to you, I may stay in the room the whole visit, or I might leave the room to see if he opens up to you. I want you to remember, that if he starts crying or anything, its a good sign. On Saturday and Sunday he was screaming and crying a lot, but since then he's been like stone, and if he shows emotion, no matter which one, its good." I nod and Doctor Temple enters the room.

"Hello Pete." I hear Doctor Temple greet brightly. "How are you today?" 

Pete  doesn't answer, but I hear a sigh.

"I see." Doctor Temple's tone doesn't change. "Do you have anything  you would like to say to me?"

Pete stays silent. 

"That's okay. Is it okay if I bring in a visitor?" Doctor Temple waits for a moment, but Pete doesn't answer. "Pete, may I bring a visitor in to see you? I think it's someone you'll be surprised to see."

"Whatever." Pete finally says, his voice empty of any emotion. It was almost robotic. 

"Come in." Doctor Temple calls out to me. Taking a deep breath, I go into the room.

The room's the size of an average bedroom. Typical hospital white floors and walls, with a single bed halfway between the door and the far wall. The door was in the bottom right hand corner, and there was a red armchair in the top left. There was a door to a small bathroom just past the bed.

Pete is sitting on the bed with his legs stretched out in front of him and his arms resting on his stomach, staring straight ahead. He's dressed in his own clothes, Brendon must have got them for him. Baggy grey track pants and a black t-shirt. His arms have thick bandages from the wrist to the elbow, and his pants were slightly tighter over one thigh, which I'm guessing was bandaged as well. Doctor Temple was leaning against the wall next to the door, probably so he could watch Pete's reaction when he turned around. 

"Say hello." He whispers to me.

"Hey Pete." I smile weakly, battling the wave of anger that came every time I saw him, and focused on the way my heart was hurting at seeing him so depressed. The way I just wanted to hold him until everything was okay. 

It's not his fault they beat you up.

It's not his fault you're gay.

Loving him is okay. It's a good thing. He might need you.

Hearing my voice, Pete turns his head quickly to face the door. He sees me and his mouth opens and closes in confusion. His eyes are sunken into his face and his hair is hanging limply over his forehead.

"Patrick." He says softly, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. I walk closer to the bed, stopping about a meter away. He opens his eyes and gazes up at me, like he was unsure of whether or not I was really there, slowly he stands up, watery eyes meeting my own. "Why are you here? You hate me." His voice is quiet and his lip trembles as he stands.