New Year - Sequel to Mistletoe

May 14, 2015

A/N: sorry for the long wait

Patrick

I didn't remember when I woke up, and though I didn't remember anything from the night earlier, I had a pounding headache that told me I must've gotten really drunk. I didn't really know where I was, and all I knew was that I was in a strange bed, in a strange room in a strange house.

I was mentally freaking out a bit, and I noticed that someone was asleep beside me. My eyes widened as I realized who it was, and I moved back a little. Unfortunately, that caused Pete to wake up. He opened his eyes slowly, yawning. Then he saw me and said in a groggy voice, "Good morning."

"W-What happened?" I blurted out, still cautious. He blinked, before realizing what I meant and explaining. "You got drunk at the bar last night, punched Mikey and I took you here because Brendon and Ryan were drunk and couldn't take you home." My eyes widened even more. "I punched Mikey?" He nodded, yawning again. "It was actually pretty funny, to be honest with you."

He sat up, looking at me. "Uh...do you remember anything else from last night?" I thought about it for a little, then shook my head. "No, why?" He seemed almost disappointed, but shook his head. "No reason." I sat back, leaning against a pillow as I asked confusedly, "Um...why am I sleeping in a bed with you?" He chuckled. "Ask yourself that." I furrowed my eyebrows.

He laughed again, and continued. "You're the one who pulled me down and said you wanted to cuddle." My face turned bright red, and I stuttered out, "I d-didn't say anything else, right?" He hesitated, before shaking his head. "Not really." I took a breath of relief.

I looked down, when he piped up, "Hey, you want painkillers? You've probably got a horrible hangover right now." I nodded, and he got up and made his way to the bathroom, as I got up as well and walked over to the kitchen.

He came back with the medicine, and gave me a glass of water as well. After I took it, he sat down on a barstool next to me and tapped his fingers casually against the counter. I was quiet for a moment, before asking, "Why did I punch Mikey again?" He looked at me before answering, "He said you were a little bitch, you told him to get the fuck out of your and my life and you also told him that me and him wouldn't ever happen and he should get over it." "Damn." I whispered, eyes wide.

"To be honest, I don't really think he'll bother you again. Or me, really. Yeah, he was mad, but I think he only loved the idea of me. Not the actual person I am. To be honest, it was probably a good thing you finally stood up for yourself. Even if it did get you punched."

"Might be why my head hurts so damn much." I mumbled, and he looked closer at my face. "Yeah, you've got a horrible bruise on the side of your face now." I sighed, but then I froze as he reached out and ran his thumb over it, tracing my cheekbone. The room was silent, and he carefully studied my face and the bruise, me holding my breath the whole time.

For a second, I thought I saw a flash of something in his eyes, but then it went away as soon as it came. He took his hand away and shook his head, and for a second it almost seemed like he was disappointed.

I knew I was.

For a second, I almost thought he was going to kiss me. And I was disappointed that he didn't. I didn't say anything, though, and he sat back, looking at me.

It was silent now, slightly uncomfortable, and I didn't know what to say. I could tell he was trying to think of what to say, and eventually he ended up with, "You really don't remember?" I grew slightly concerned. "Remember what?" He just stared helplessly. "Pete, what did I do?"

He seemed to give up, almost seeming sad, or maybe defeated. Then, he whispered out, "Patrick?" I was confused, and I opened my mouth to say something but was stopped.

"Love you too."