stammer!patrick & waiter!pete
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Patrick is a Junior in High School. Pete is a waiter at Red Robin. Patrick has a stutter. Pete has bipolar disorder.
They don't match; their personalities are complete opposites. Or are they?
...
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(Trigger warning: graphic description of self harm if u dont want that just skip through it.this is the signal when it starts and when it ends ***)
***
Franks POV.
his hair wasn't the only thing that was red. there was red oozing out of his wrists, onto the floor. and he was looking at me and his eyes were pleading for help and it was the most heartbreaking thing i have ever seen.
"h-help me. please."
he didn't want to do it. i can see that. but it just happened, i guess. maybe it was the call of the void. or maybe it was just his mind. maybe he's as fucked up as i used to be. maybe he just needs to be healed.
"oh god."
"p-please," he was sobbing now. sobbing into his palms so hard that the tears were mixing with the red.
"mikey!" i scream, "mikey, 911!"
"please help," and he kept pleading and begging, and i could almost feel the tears in my eyes.
"mikey!"
i️ grabbed a shirt off of the floor, using it to stop the continuous bleeding. he just kept screaming. he struggled to get away from my hold, somehow still asking for help.
***
"it's gonna get better. it's gonna work out." i️ repeated, shushing his cries, waiting for mikey to come help.
mikey finally chimed in, his phone sandwiched in between his shoulder and ear, as he relayed his address to the operator on the phone.
once he finished, he threw his phone onto the pile of laundry on the floor, running to help me with the hurt boy in my arms.
his friends trailed behind, as they took in the horrid scene.
there was no way i was forgetting this.
the boy's screams finally quieted down, his eyes helpless, puffy, and red.
"is he your brother?" i asked. mikey glared at me, as he rubbed the red-haired boys arm.
some of his friends left, probably to give us space. others were trying to help mikey calm the boy down. mikey wasn't having it.
"there's no time for questions, dumbass." he was crying too, his salty tears landing on the redheads shirt.
"m-mikey...?" the readhead whimpered. his hand gripped his brother's arm tightly, like he was trying to make sure that mikey wouldn't leave.
