We Are: Hearts, Lies And Friends

Let's Meet In The Purgatory Of My Hips And Get Well #IGD

Joe's POV

FuckFuckFuckFuckFuckFuckFuckFuckFuckFuckFuckFuckFuckFuckFuckFuck 

Alcohol. Mostly Whiskey, some beer. It's in the air, the bottles are all over the floor, and Pete most definatley smells like it. His breath, his hair, his clothes. I doubt that in the last couple days, he's eaten anything at all. My only regret is that me and Andy couldn't get here sooner, but every flight from L.A to Tokyo was booked because this is what they like to call "honey moon season." 

And now look where we are, standing in front of a drunken, passed out Pete. clutching a bottle of Whiskey still in hand. It's only been a day since Patrick woke up, and Pete called us crying to explain what happened. So of course Andy and I had to come and comfort him, but how does he expect us to do that if he's passed out?

"Andy, could you please wake him up?"

He slowly begins across the room. There are many clinks as he pushed pass the countless empty bottles thrown  about the floor. He moves the Whiskey bottle out of Petes hand and places it on the table next to the couch.

"Pete." ... No responce.

"PETE." He says shaking him a little rougher now, with still no responce.

His emotions well up, he suddenly can't control himself anymore. He hates this. He hates that his two best friends are fighting and that Pete is suddenly a drunken mess and that Patrick is in the hospital by himself right now probably contemplating his next suicide attempt and he just wants Pete to WAKE THE FUCK UP so they can get everything settled and go home.

 The sharp sound of skin hitting skin fills the room and Andy slaps him with all the power in his body. "PETE WAKE THE FUCK UP!" 

*Petes POV*

"SHIT. WHAT THE FUCK MAN?!? OW."

"HOW ELSE WAS I SUPPOSED TO WAKE YOU UP!? YOU WERE KNOCKED OUT STONE COLD YOU DRUNK!"

"I AM NOT A DRUNK I CAN QUIT ANYTIME I WANT!"

"Yeah, tell that to the 35 bottles of alcohol all over the floor." Joe mumbled, thinking I hadn't heard him.

"Look you fuckers! I'm okay, I promise."

"Pete," Andy said, placing a firm hand on my shoulder "it's okay not to be okay. You're not fine and you know it. We are here for you."

"*Sniffle* I'm f-f-ine *Sniffle* I, I'm okay *sniffle*" I feel Joes arms wrap around me, pulling me, him and Andy into a tight hug.

"Shhhhhh, It's okay, let it all out"

Suddenly I couldn't help myself. I couldn't even believe in my own lies anymore. I'm a hot mess without him. The tears began to poor like water falls down my face. I wasn't crying. I was sobbing. I couldn't even stand, my knees suddenly feeling weak and heavy, pulling me to the ground. Unable to speak, unable to breathe, unable to think of anything besides how much I miss Patrick. About how no amount of alcohol could ever make the memories of him and I fade from my mind. About how every plan I had for him and I was terminated in an instant.

We were going to grow old together. Hand in hand, sitting in our rocking chairs on the front porch, watching our grand children. We were going to adopt two little boys and a girl and give them matching names and Love them as unconditionally as we Love (Or should I say Loved) eachother (Of course I still Love him but he HATES me).

And now here we are; Patrick in a lonely hospital bed and me crying into the shoulders of my two best friends, hating every moment of my life. I will never be happy again if I don't have him in my life. I have to get Patrick back.