What Twisted Webs We Weave

I Smell Like Alcohol

(Pete's POV)

Patrick took the phrase you make me sick to the most literal of levels. He lowered down to his knees in front of the toilet. Vomiting into it as soon as I lifted the top for him. His arms hugged the outer rim. Now probably wasn't a good time, but I wanted to tell him how unsanitary that was. Vibrations raked his frame as another burst of nausea went through him. The sound of it splashing into the water of the toilet was nothing short of violent.

I knelt by his side. Albeit, hesitantly. Slightly worried about being in the splash zone. I could still feel Patrick shaking beside me. My palm rested on his back. My hand rubbing what I hoped was comforting circles into his shirt. I felt his body tense under my fingers but didn't hear the sound of the water splash again.

I curved my head and saw him leaning opened mouthed over the seat. His body dry heaving now that there was nothing left in his stomach to be discarded. My rubs turned to gentle pats.

"Are you okay-"

"Stop touching me!" He snatched my hand off of him.

"Patrick-"

"Don't say my name!" He used the toilet to push himself off the ground. I stood up as soon as he did. "You just got back and you're already fucking Ryan again? You didn't even give us half a chance!"

"Baby, it's not like that." If he'd give me time, I'd be able to come up with an excuse for what happened.

"I-I can't even look at you." He turned his head to the side to match his dramatic comment. Not to say that I thought he was overreacting. It's just that Patrick was a normal when it came to the theatrics. "We were supposed to be starting over!" His voice broke at the same time his light eyes glazed over with tears.

My stomach twisted in self disgust at the heart wrenching sight. Maybe I was going to be sick too.

"I'm so sorry." My apology must mean shit to him now. "I'm a fuck up." It was as honest as I could be.

"That's all you have to say? That's your fucking ex-" His open hand pressed against his lips. Stopping any more hurtful words from coming out.

I deserved everything he had to say though. That and more. But I couldn't give him anymore than I already had. I was sorry. More sorry that I'd been about my mistakes in the past. Didn't that stand for something? If I could turn back the hands of time, I would go back to that first night and never open the door. But I couldn't. So all I had to offer was a pathetic apology and the promise to not make the same mistake.

"I'll go get you some water." I angled sideways so that I wouldn't have to touch him as I left the room. He didn't attempt to stop me. Probably happy that he wouldn't have to force himself to look at me if I was in the kitchen.

My head was in a million places as I walked towards the fridge. I barely spared a glance at the bottle I snatched from the shelf. My brain working on ways to fix the situation in seconds before heading back into the bathroom. Of course the thought journey was unsuccessful.

"Here." I held it towards him.

He scoffed. "I'm fine." His words were followed by choking. Thankfully nothing else left his mouth.

"Just take some to rinse your mouth out." I insisted.

"I don't want anything from you."

He grabbed the bottom of his t-shirt. Lifting it past his chin. Wiping his mouth with it.

My eyes involuntary strayed to the exposed skin of his stomach. Reintroducing my eyes to the painful reminders of what continuously hurting Patrick could make him do. My arm lowered. The bottle now dangling between my fingers.