I look around the café, going to ask the cashier Stacy if she's seen our manager, Elizabeth.
"Yes, she just went into the office," Stacy smiles, somewhat sadly. I know my fellow employees feel remorse for me but right now I could care less, I just want to go home.
"Okay, thanks," I nod then turn to Pete, "Can you wait for me outside?"
He smiles that smile that makes me feel like everything will be okay, as long as Pete is there. I've learned over the past couple months that he actually does care, and isn't like my past 'friends'.
"Yeah, of course," Pete nods, stepping to the side.
I smile, relieved, "Okay." Then I head into the office, finding Elizabeth sitting at her desk.
"Hey, Patrick," She turns away from her computer, "How you doing?"
I shake my head, "I can't explain it. Can I leave early? My shift ends in two hours, I can work overtime next week and-"
Elizabeth cuts me off, "No, you don't have to work overtime. It's fine. I'll see you on Monday?"
I smile, "Yeah. Thanks, really."
"No problem," She smiles back and goes to her computer again.
When I exit the office I immediately untie my bowtie as it's been giving me a neck ache. I grab my coat and snow hat and scarf, wrapping myself up and then exiting the café. I find Pete sitting on the bench outside. His head turns to look at me, and we kind of just stay there, looking at each other. I notice his whiskey colored eyes for once, and how there's a bit of stubble on his face.
He smiles warmly as I sit down and hands me a cup of coffee, just the way I like it, "You didn't have to buy me coffee." I say quietly, smiling a bit.
"It's on me," Pete smiles, looking down at his own cup.
We sit there quietly for a bit, watching the snow start to fall down again. I take another drink of my coffee and Pete speaks up, "You know, it isn't your fault you're depressed, alright? Why don't we go buy you some more medication? And a new pair of glasses."
I sigh, "Okay, I guess so. Afterwards, do you want to come over? There're some things I . . . haven't exactly told you."
His expression turns from confused to one that says 'Okay, I'm good with that.' "Yeah, sounds good."
I stand up, throwing away my empty coffee cup. Pete does the same, and when we start to walk towards the rxoptical just down the road, I grab his hand, holding it the rest of the way.
He doesn't say anything except squeeze it reassuringly.
-
Once we're done at rxoptical, I ordered new lenses and they're going to fix my frames, I lead Pete away from the direction of the pharmacy, "Um, 'Trick? The pharmacy-"
"I know," I quickly respond and we round the corner, my apartment building ahead.
When we get inside of my apartment I take my shoes off and place them next to the vent that seeps out heat. Pete copies my actions and hangs his coat on the coat rack next to the door.
Pete's POV
Patrick was quiet mostly the entire walk. I can tell he needs to tell me something important, and no matter how intrigued I am, I wait for him until he's ready.
"Do you mind if I change first?" He asks, rubbing the side of his face.
"No, go ahead," I smile, sitting down on one of his sofas.
Patrick disappears into the hall leading to what I assume to be his room. I take in the apartment while I wait. It's fairly nice, with white cupboards and granite countertops in the kitchen, a small dark table to eat at, two leather sofas facing a tv, and shelves lined with books and movies, most of the movies being Pixar and the Star Wars trilogy. It's not exactly clean, though. There are articles of clothing strewn on some furniture, and snacks piled on the counter and dining table. Who would've thought Patrick Stump was a bit messy?
He comes back out of his room dressed in a John Coltrane t-shirt and black skinny jeans with fuzzy socks ( that I'm pretty sure I saw at Kohl's one time in the woman's department but I'm not positive ).
I make room for him on the couch but instead he sits close to me, looking down at his hands, "I . . . um . . didn't exactly run out of my medication."
My eyes widen, "What? Why aren't you-"
"Please, don't get mad," Patrick brings a hand to his forehead, and I immediately feel bad.
"I'm sorry, I won't, I just- you should be taking your medication, 'Trick."
"I know I know," He sighs and rubs his face again, then bites his lip like he always does when he's deep in thought, "But here's the thing. Everytime I take that medication, my anxiety builds up. I can't stand it. I get scared of the littlest things. Stuff that shouldn't matter."
"Like what?" I grab his hands loosely and he leans against my shoulder.
"Stuff like, my girlfriend coming back, people from my school coming back, stuff from my past that makes me have trouble sleeping at night. I don't know about your involvement with bullying, but I was bullied for years throughout school, mostly because of my appearance," Patrick says sadly.
I hold him by the shoulders in front of me, "Patrick. You're the strongest person I've ever met, 'kay? I know it must've been hard for you in the past, well, actually I don't know, nevermind. The point is that you've made it so far in life, look at you now. You have a job, you have an apartment, you're doing so great, and you're the most polite person I've met. I can't imagine existing without you, to be quite honest." I smile.
He looks down at his hands and I see a couple tears fall from his eyes. I make the motion to quickly wipe them away, and Patrick takes that as an advantage to pull me in for a kiss, wrapping his arms around my neck.
I smile, closing my eyes and placing my hands on his waist, pulling him closer. He breaks away but stays close and for the first time in months I see actual happiness in his eyes. "Thanks, Pete."
- *drops mic* tHAT WAS COMPLETELY UNINTENTIONAL AND I'M SO PROUD OF MYSELF
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