Golden Boy

Chapter 4

After a sleepless night, due to multiple factors(including my excitement, Patrick followed me on Twitter!), my alarm finally goes off. 4:45, time to get ready to head into the shop. I wake up with that sharp pain in my cheek again that I keep getting...

I shake it off, it has to be nothing. I get up and go into the bathroom, brushing my teeth and combing my hair up, contrary to my usual down. I put on a nice white button up, black slacks, and my work shoes(which now have coffee stains on them). I peek into the master bedroom, where Brendon's passed out drunk. I let out a small sigh, blowing him a kiss and heading into work.

I get in there for the working crowd. We open at 5:15. I serve a few businessmen before a face I really like to see comes in. Patrick approaches the counter and smiles at me. "Well, hello Dallon," he grins. "My new Twitter friend."

I blush madly, starting to fumble again. Why, he remembered my name again, didn't he? "Oh- wel- heh- umm- same d-d-drink as l-last n-night?" I ask.

"Yes, please, if you remember it."

"I r-remember, I th-th-think," I say. "Two sugars and some cream, yeah?"

"You got it," he beams. He stays by the counter when I make his drink, as there's nobody in line. "So, what was the whole tweet last night? Are you okay?"

"Oh, yeah," I lie, making his drink up. "Just was having trouble yesterday. I appreciate your reply."

"My pleasure, who's the boyfriend? If you don't mind me asking, of course."

"His name is Brendon," I say, handing his cup to him. "He was in the shop when you came in... he was the one that laughed when I spilt the coffee..."

"Oh, him?" He asks. "I saw him yelling at you last night... I wanted to stop and help, but I had to rush to my hotel... I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," I quickly say. I don't want you to pity me. "I outed him when I shouldn't have-"

"You told me that you were concerned because he was out late. You didn't say what he was doing, you didn't even say who he was. He just wanted an excuse to hurt you."

I bite my lip. That wasn't even the worst...

~~ Flashback~~
When I first had my suspicions about Brendon and Ryan, a few weeks ago, the only thing I could think to do was to confront him and ask him about it. I heard from Darren, one of my friends who works with Ryan, that Brendon was at Ryan's shift, that they were very physical during that time, and that Brendon accompanied Ryan home. I was distraught, madly in love I mean. And for him to do this, I couldn't handle it. I sobbed that day, like I hadn't sobbed for a while. I pulled myself together when I heard his keys in the front door, I quickly wiped my eyes, quickly swallowed the sobs. "B-Brendon?" I call out.

"Where are you?" He asks, walking into the bedroom. He looks at me, hunched over the bed, red blotchy eyes, and assumes what I was doing. "Oh god, why are you crying? You big baby. Get up!" He grabs the back of my shirt and tugs me up. "Why are you crying?"

"I- I'm not-" I gasp out.

He just shakes his head, striking my cheek and throwing me back on the bed. I cower, closing my eyes so the tears don't stream down. I've found that if I clench my jaw a certain way, it doesn't hurt as bad. The stinging stays, but the throbbing leaves. "Dinner isn't ready," he says. "Want to tell me why it's not ready? You've had almost 4 fucking hours to make it. What have you been doing this whole time I've been gone??" He strikes the back of my head. "Face me when I speak to you!"

I shudder and turn to face him, avoiding eye contact. "I- I thought you got food while you were out... I was on my blog-"

"Of course you were," he grumbles. "You're always on that stupid blog! Do you love your Tumblr more than me??" He asks.

"N-no of c-c-course not!" I stutter out, tears now streaming down my cheeks. I feel another strike, burning. It's always the same cheek that gets hit...

"Then why is it always distracting you from me?!" He picks up my new laptop that Spencer got me for my birthday. "I'm starting to think this laptop and your Tumblr is distracting you from what's really important." He raises the laptop above his head.

"Please, don't-" I cry. Too late, he slams the laptop on the floor. Pieces fly everywhere. It wasn't even a month old yet...

"Now go make dinner!" He commands, shoving me out of the bedroom. I cook his meal, leaving his plate on the dining table with a set of silverware. I've decided to ask him about Ryan as he eats.

"U-um... Bren..." I squeak out.

"Hm?" He asks.

"I was talking to Darren earlier..." I see his face go white. He knows Darren works with Ryan. "And he told me some interesting things." He doesn't look up from his meal. "He saw you... And Ryan... And he said you guys were kissing... And you went home with him... And I'm just wondering if that's true..."

He gets up out of his chair and approaches me, standing in the corner. "How dare you," he starts. His rage quickly boils up. "How dare you assume I would do that!"

"I- I didn't assume-" I quickly spat out, getting scared and backing into the corner.

"No? Then why did you even bring it up?!" He clenches his fists. "I wouldn't cheat on you! You think I'm some sort of asshole?!"

"N-n-no!!! O-of course not!"

"Really? Because I think you do!" He raises his fists, punching me in my eye, my cheek, my jaw, my nose, my mouth, my shoulder, my chest, my stomach, everywhere. I fall to my knees, unable to hold my own weight.

~~~~~
"Well," Patrick throws his cup away. "I should be heading out.

"Oh, okay." I watch him, blinking back the tears from my relived events.

"Nice talking to you," he smiles at me.

"You too-" I gasp, cut off by anther sharp pain in my cheek, more sharp than ever before. It feels like something is repeatedly stabbing me! I cup my cheek in my hand, cringing and wincing.

"You okay?" Patrick quickly asks, a look of concern washing over his face.

"I'm fine, just a little pain," I mutter out. My vision starts to get blurry.

"You should get it checked out," he suggests, frowning. "You sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," I mumble quickly. "It's okay if you leave..."

"I'll be back soon," he says, waving and walking out of the shop.