Dempeo One Shots

Love Drought

"Patrick, please. You can't do this. We- we can work through this. Please, Patrick!" Ellen Pompeo sobs on their bed. She grips the sheets tighter as her eyes start to sting more. Patrick throws more of his belongings into a duffle bag, his face red in anger.

He stops moving and looks at Ellen. "No, Ellen, we can't. As much as I want to, we won't be able to work through this. It's over, whatever me and you had, it's done, Ellen," Patrick tells the crying woman. She bursts out into another round of fresh tears, while Patrick silently leaves the trailer.

Ellen slumps back into the uncomfortable bed. She pulls the covers up over herself, letting them settle just below her bare shoulders. Her body shakes as she continues to cry harder and harder.

Meanwhile, Patrick drives in his newly bought Porsche. His face is still red from the anger, his hand rubbing his upper lip. His right hand grips his steering wheel tight. He presses his foot harder on the gas peddle, getting as far away from L.A. as he can. He drives all the way out to the country side, driving up the nice hills of the outskirts of Hollywood.

000

Ellen enters her house, throwing her keys in an old dish. She takes her beige jacket off, throwing it on her couch. She walks up the stairs, slowly entering her room to find Chris just sitting on his side of the bed. He looks up to see the puffy eyes of his girlfriend. He doesn't say anything, just gives her a look of sympathy. She sits next to him, both of their feet placed on the floor.

"I have to end this," Ellen tells him blandly. They stare at the wall in front of them, not touching or looking at each other.

"It's because of him, isn't it?" Chris asks softly. He doesn't seem mad.

"Yeah," Ellen replies softly. Her and Chris don't exchange words for a short while until Ellen asks him if he's mad.

"I was, in the beginning. When you two first met, I could always kind of tell you two just had this spark. Me and you, we didn't have that. I've been waiting for this," Chris explains softly. She slowly lowers her head to rest on his shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, Chris." Ellen lets out a silent tear. Chris sets a soft kiss on Ellen's forehead.

"Does he make you happy?" He asks.

Ellen smiles, "he does Chris, he really does." She lets out a shaky breath and lets out more tears.

"Then you don't have to apologize, Ellen." Chris gets off of the bed, sliding down to his knees, kneeling in front of Ellen. "I want you to be happy. If I love you, than I should let you be happy," Chris tells her, choking back his own tears. His hands rest on Ellen's knees, as her hands rest on his shoulders. "I want you to be happy, and if it's Patrick that makes you happy and not me, I don't care." Ellen wraps her arms around Chris's neck, pulling him into a hug. Chris shuts his eyes tight, letting his tears come out. He pulls back and wipes Ellen's tears away, kissing her forehead. "Goodbye, Ellen," he whispers, standing up.

"Goodbye, Chris," Ellen whispers back. Chris grabs a pair of shorts and leaves her room.

Ellen slumps back in her bed, letting the rest of her tears go. By the time she knows she can't cry anymore, she's laying in her bed, clothes from the previous day still on. She looks at the clock and notices a short 3 hours has passed, 1:27 A.M..

Ellen gets up, goes downstairs and puts some of the soup Patrick made for her last week when she was sick, in the microwave. She waits the short minute, then takes it out, stirring it and taking a bite. Every single bite reminds her of Patrick, which in a way is weird, but in her mind, it's the same as if it were his shirt.