The Will of Love and Life (Peterick)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Important: potential triggers for this chapter in the order they appear: depression, implied suicidal thoughts, mood swings, deception, abuse of cocaine, aggressive behavior and implications of domestic violence, and side effects of cocaine. If you think anything else should be added to this list, please let me know here and I will add it immediately.

A/N: I'm sorry. But there are only a few chapters left. The rollercoaster is almost over. I actually write the end of books first, so the ending is already decided, but I want to know where you guys think this is going, so if you have a theory I'd like to hear it.

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February 01, 2017

Patrick detached. The depression was hitting him, and he couldn't feel anything anymore. He laid in bed for two days, not speaking a word. But before that, he spent two days barely hanging on. Pete didn't know what to do. Breezy didn't know how to help. Joe called Patrick's therapists in Chicago and Boston, but Patrick silently refused to speak with either of them. He refused to speak with anyone.

Patrick felt like he was in a coma. He could hear everything but felt nothing. He was too tired to respond. He couldn't wake up.

Pete was afraid to leave Patrick alone. He took the day off, telling his manager that he sick. He asked Kailyn to cover for him. She knew the truth. He cried to her every night.

It was a little after three o'clock in the afternoon, and Patrick was still in bed. Pete cleaned the kitchen countertops twice, washed the dishes by hand, and even reorganized the contents of the fridge. He checked on Patrick in random intervals, too afraid that he would try something if he knew when Pete would be coming back.

Pete went to their room, and Patrick was in the same spot he was in ninety minutes prior--- curled up under the covers. For all the time Patrick was spending in bed, it was surprising that he didn't spend any sleeping.

Pete pressed a kiss to Patrick's forehead. They hadn't actually kissed in sixteen days. He was keeping score.

"Need anything, babe?" Pete asked, brushing his fingers through Patrick's hair.

Patrick replied with his usual silence. Pete kissed Patrick's cheek and went to leave, but Patrick grabbed his wrist. Pete looked back at him, and Patrick had a pleading look in his eyes.

Pete laid down on his side of the bed, and Patrick immediately cuddled against Pete's side. He didn't say anything. He used one hand to unbutton Pete's shirt, then button it again, and repeat.

"Do you want to talk about anything?" Pete asked, setting his hand on top of Patrick's to stop his compulsion.

Patrick rested his cheek on Pete's chest. Patrick finally fell asleep, and Pete wasn't taking any chances. He didn't want to wake Patrick, who had barely slept in four days. When he felt Patrick start to wake up after only fifteen minutes, he just gently played with his hair to push him back to sleep.

Pete wasn't expecting to fall asleep himself, but he was exhausted from worrying all day. He'd been okay at the beginning of the week, balancing taking care of himself and taking care of Patrick. But today he snapped, and all of his emotions found their way back. He was tired and anxious and sad and all around drained. Being around someone so depressed sucked all the life out of him. It was easier when Patrick would talk to him.

For Patrick, the past fourteen years of depression hit him like a brick. It's been all those years and he never began to heal from losing his parents. He put a bandage on a broken leg and continued to walk on it. But as the time approached, having someone who truly loved him made him feel worse. He felt the pain of losing Pete, even though he would be in the next room. He hyperventilated with the fear of Pete abandoning him, even though Pete was the one rocking him and calming him down. He was overwhelmed with guilt and agony. He didn't deserve the love and attention. He didn't deserve to be happy.