Folie

Act II, Scene 7

In a net of tangled arms jumbled legs, and Patrick began to stir, confused by the feeling of warm flesh next to him. He also began to realize that he was not in his in own bed. Then, as the familiar scent of cologne filled his nostrils, he turned and faced the tall boy who currently held him in his sleeping arms.

Oh shit.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. Dallon, wake up!" Patrick said panicking, quickly unraveling himself from Dallon.

One eyelid opened half-way, and almost closed again, before both eyes flew open in horror.

"Oh no. Please don't tell me. Did we...?"

"Yes, Dallon. We hooked up last night."

"Damnit, damnit, damnit! I knew I shouldn't have had that drink, I told myself not to! And now you're here, and I'm here, and we're naked, and we did it and it's too late. I didn't want to do this with you, my ex-"

"Your ex," Patrick cut in, "what does he have to do with this? And what do you mean you didn't want to do this with me? Are you telling me that you fucking slept with me when you still didn't even want me? What the fuck is wrong with you?" Patrick shouted, as his throat began to clench and his eyes began to well.

"I'm sorry, Patrick! I didn't want to do this! I didn't mean to! It's shitty, I know! I was just drunk, and you were drunk too-"

"Don't you dare blame this on me." Patrick spat, venom lacing every word, "now, I'm going to get my stuff, and I'm going to leave, and you're going to sit here, and you're not going to talk to me, not now or ever, because as far as I'm concerned, you can go fuck yourself."

With that, Patrick climbed over Dallon and raged around the room, retrieving his clothes and his belongings. After he dressed himself, he wrenched the door wide open, and stormed to the front. As he did, one of the song from the musical began playing in his head, taunting him. When he reached the front door, he turned one last time towards Dallon, who had followed him.

"Thanks for the memories," he spat.

---

Dread weighed on Patrick as he walked into the rehearsal room, knowing what lions lay await in the den inside. Sure enough, he saw Dallon talking to Brendon, as they often did now, and though Brendon maintained a calm appearance, his eyes betrayed the rage that truly lie within once he turned to face Patrick. Excusing himself from Dallon, he strode towards the doorway. As Patrick said a feeble hello, Brendon continued to walk, saying one thing in response.

"Fuck off, asshole."

Patrick saw Joe, who grinned and waved hello as he saw Patrick. He ran over to talk to Joe, needing a friend more than anything.

"Hey, Joe, how are you?"

"I'm good, Trick. You? Brendon seemed to storm off in a hurry there."

"Oh, yeah. Well, I assume it's because Dallon told him."

"Told him what?" Joe asked, his chest beginning to clench.

"Well," Patrick hesitated, "something... happened last night."

Joe's heart began to drum.

"Dallon and I got drunk and sort of... slept together."

Joe's throat dried up, but he managed to speak.