bipolaroid ☹ andtrick

f i v e

A finger snapped in front of Patrick's face, causing him to flinch. He looked up from his tray of food.

"What's up with this new guy? Is he stupid or something?" A man with bleach blonde hair asked.

Patrick blushed and pushed the food around with his fork.

"Leave him alone, Pete," Andy retorted. "He probably just doesn't want to talk to someone who tried to commit homicide on all of his friends."

A few heads raised at this, everyone looking at the tattooed man for a moment. He didn't heed much attention to it, instead draping an arm over Patrick's shoulders. "Are you all right, man?"

The blonde nodded and shrugged. "Fine."

He knew good and well that half of the people here were completely insane, and he didn't exactly feel comfortable with that.

After lunch was a group therapy session. Patrick sat beside Andy because he felt most safe with a personal body guard.

"So, today, we're going to talk about the seven stages of grief."

Patrick froze and bit his tongue, looking at the nurse who was leading the group. He had short, brown hair and doe like eyes.

"Can anyone tell me the first one?"

A man with dyed red hair held up a hand. "Denial."

"Very good! Would anyone like to share a time when they went through the denial phase?"

The room fell silent. No one was saying anything, and you could cut the tension with a knife.

"Patrick. What about you?"

The blonde slowly looked up from his lap, fidgeting with his hands. "Uh..."

All eyes were on him now. His mouth felt dry.

"I-I guess... I'm going through some denial right now." He drew in a deep breath and shifted in the blue, plastic chair. "My dad..." he trailed off.

More expectant looks.

"He... passed not that long ago."

The brown haired man gave a faux look of sympathy. "I'm sorry to hear that. Thank you for sharing."

After the group session was over, Patrick was sure to get to his room as quickly as possible. He lay down on his bed and curled up, tears beginning to form in his eyes.

Andy watched from the doorway.

"Are you okay?" he finally asked after a minute of silence.

Patrick shot up, trying his best to muster up an annoyed expression. But he just couldn't. He began to sob, pulling his knees to his chest.

The older man furrowed his eyebrows with concern and sat on Patrick's bed. He reached out to rub his back gently.

"I lost my dad when I was five..." he eventually said. Patrick sniffled.

The smaller man then hugged Andy as tight as he could for a long time. It seemed like the seconds passed by as hours.

He didn't want to let go. Not now. Not ever.