I'm Not Okay (I Promise) • Geetrick

49

---Gerard---

Everything is... perfect, I guess. Patrick's back, Mikey's coming home soon, Pete was okay with breaking it off with Patrick once he heard what happened to me, Frank and I have hung out a lot more, and it looks like Mama got promoted which means she'll bring home more money and she won't have to work as much. Patrick is still healing, and he's taking his pills again, much to my relief. It's like things are the same again.

This is the second time I've tried to say same, though, and I realize there's no such thing as same. There was never a same.

Maybe this can be our new same. Just him and I living happily, no fighting, no secrets, no hating, just loving each other. Maybe we can make it through the low self-esteem and the depression and the self-harm and the anxiety and the PTSD. I'm sure he will eventually. I believe in it.

My wrists have healed, thankfully, and they're beginning to disappear one day at a time. November is going by quickly. Quicker than usual and I have to double take the calendar when it reads Friday, December 2nd.

Patrick comes up behind me, his hands wrapping around my stomach and his cheek pressing into the back of my shoulder. I smile softly to myself because I love the way he's not anxious around me and how he'll comfortably hug me if he feels like it. He's become much more open to Pete and me. Counseling has helped him through a lot and... it honestly makes me feel really fucking warm inside. Really, it's like a furnace. I'm happy for him.

Mama, Patrick, and I went over to the Thurman household for Thanksgiving because we don't have any family in Summit. Most of them are in California, Oregon, or Washington so it's a relatively long fly and we agreed it would be better to just get together with a few friends. It was easy to tell that Lindsey was confused since the last time we saw her, we told her we weren't dating, and now we can't stop holding hands or kissing each other's cheeks.

Patrick still blushes every time.

Patrick caught up with Elisa, it's easy to tell she's his favorite while, of course, Lindsay is mine. Sometimes I feel sorry for Sarah because she doesn't exactly get a gay teen to chat with.

Maybe I should have invited Brendon over, they probably would have gotten along.

My hands rest on Patrick's before I turn and slant my lips against his, pressing him closer and resting my palm right on his ass while his arms wrap around my neck, warming the sensitive skin. His shaky breaths leave his nose and brush my cheek, those familiar, pleasured breaths.

He pulls away, immediately resting his head in the crook of my neck, his hands on my shoulders and his warm breath now fogging my chest.

"What are we even doing tonight?" He asks softly. There's an edge of tiredness in his voice, but it's hard to tell if it's tiredness or just him being content. It's a warm voice, and it's the kind of sound that makes you want to cuddle up with a blanket and a book, drinking hot chocolate next to a fireplace while orange and red leaves fall from trees outside.

But right now, I'm feeling exhaustion kick in as well.

"You wanna go to bed?" I ask softly, breathing in the scent of his honey hair. It's addicting, the scent of him. I love it. I love it so much.

"Sure," He mumbles, pulling away and looking up at the time. 8:52 PM. He squeezes my hand but doesn't lead me. He never likes being the lead in this. I asked him a couple nights ago if he wanted to top, he said no: He only did it with Pete and Joe because his self-confidence was up with the ecstasy and he forgot about it in the morning. I had laughed at that, but at the same time, I really didn't. I want him to top with me once, at least to try it. I don't want his PTSD to bother him forever and, frankly, if I can't take it rough with him, then I'm okay with him taking it rough with me. I don't want to force him into anything, though, so if he doesn't want to them, I won't make him.