The Will of Love and Life (Peterick)

Chapter Five

May 18, 2016

"Patrick, it's been a week," Joe complained, pressing Patrick for information. "I want details from your date with Pete."

"It wasn't a date," Patrick replied, holding his ground. "And details are something that I do not want to give."

"Come on, Patrick, don't you want this to go anywhere?" Joe asked, urgency laced thick in his voice. "I can help you. Maybe a boyfriend would be good for you."

"I don't want it to go anywhere. I don't want a boyfriend. And I certainly don't want your help. I'm fine."

"Does he even know anything about you?"

Patrick's breath hitched. "I gotta go." And he hung up the phone before Joe could say another word.

He shoved his phone back in his pocket and leaned back on the fence. His canvas sat abandoned next to him, blank. The paint bottles were never opened. The brush was dry. He closed his eyes and sighed.

He hadn't talked to Pete since last Sunday, and he knew the younger man would hop the fence when he got home. Patrick had been caught up in work the entire week, staying in his office late into the night and having to go back only a few hours after finally getting to bed. The court hours were long, and he was exhausted, barely able to keep his thoughts in order.

It was a Wednesday in mid-May, so the weather was warm, and the flowers were in full bloom. He finished his work the night before and slept until three in the afternoon. He didn't want to do everything again the next day. He was tired of all of it. Work. People.

Living.

His hand pressed against his thigh through his jeans, and he gulped at the pain of the cuts under his fingertips. A new word was scrawled into his thigh.

Lazy.

It wasn't deep enough to scar, but he still knew it was there. It only stopped bleeding an hour ago.

He heard a car door open and shut and then footsteps on the other side of the fence. He didn't open his eyes, even when Pete was sat next to him. Pete reached over and prodded Patrick's cheek with his finger.

"I know you aren't asleep," Pete said.

"I could be," Patrick muttered, crossing his arms and looking over.

Pete smiled. "Hi, blue eyes."

"You're not calling me that," Patrick replied half heartedly.

"Fine," Pete sighed. "But I haven't seen you in over a week, Tricky. How was lawyering?"

"Lawyering?" Patrick questioned, raising an eyebrow. "Are you sticking with that?"

"Yes," Pete said with a smirk. "Lawyering. Google it."

Patrick rolled his eyes. "I was in court all week and doing paperwork all night. How was your week?"

"Pretty good, actually."

"Why, because I wasn't around?"

Pete scoffed and took Patrick's hand, prying it from his grip on his elbow. It was actually because he hadn't seen Nik all that week, either, but he wasn't about to admit that to Patrick.

"Don't be like that," Pete whispered, sliding his fingers between Patrick's. "I missed you bunches."

"Did you really?" Patrick barley whispered over the pounding of his heart.

"Of course I did," Pete said. "Even one day without your sarcasm is too long."

"Wow, thanks."

Pete took Patrick's cell phone from where it was shoved in his front pocket.