I Dont Do Too Well On My Own

The Fifty-Sixth Chapter

The next day I dont see Patrick for a while.

I leave him to sleep in my bed until he feels better again.

What I do do, though, is text Pete.

I explain what happened last night.

I explain what I said.

I dont explain what happened after.

So when Patrick gets up I have a surprise for him.

"You- you?" He stands in his pyjamas in the doorway.

I stand up to look at him, turning away from the pot of paint.

"Are you sure?"

"Im sure." I smile. "It looks ugly uncompleted anyway."

I flick the switch, turning the light on.

Patrick shuffles to where I pose, by the wall. Earlier I had painted over the half finished outline of me the time I chickened out.

"So." Patrick states, slowly painting around the smooth edges of my shadow.

"Why did you end the relationship with Lizzie?" I ask.

Im hoping for the reason 'because I love you.' or something cheesy and complementary.

"Well..." He says. "technically she ended it with me. But I only did that for the fame and to be more well known. We know thats because Im scared."

"Thats your reason?" I try and hint towards my idea.

"Yeah. Im glad its all over. Thanks for last night. Youre such a good friend."

I choke on my breath. "Its okay..."

I keep talking to Patrick so I dont think about what we are doing.

"You can help me colour now." Patrick notes after a while.

I sit down and let Patrick direct me. My swirls are in my heart and my hands (as well as the brain).

I slowly start the swirls in my head and Patrick starts humming.

"Do you think I could potentially write another song? Do you think I have the potential?" I ask.

"You certainly have the potential." Patrick notes.

Light glints off the tar black paint.

"You just need to keep writing..."

I nod, considering it.

"But- urm- I just just wanted to mention that tomorrow Fall Out Boy have a concert in New York and... Do you wanna come along? We are there for two days. You dont have to come if you dont want to?"

A smile spreads on my face.

"Yes, Ill come. It would be great." I smile.

*

Jump forward to the long drive to New York.

Jump forward to the concert.

Jump forward to the hotel room- after the concert.

The hotel room is huge. It has 4 separate rooms branching off the main room and has two bathrooms.

Oh, and, you guessed it, Im on the sofa.

Honestly Im more excited about the actual hotel. We are on the highest floor. It looks out over the twinkling lights of the city at night. Its like each light is trying to send a message in morse code.

"This is such a cool hotel." Andy says, opening cupboards.

"I just like the room service." Joe laughs from the sofa.

Patrick seems off. His aura sends me into a bad mood.

Its not even a bad mood, its just me being slightly depressed.

I mean, all the hopeless sarcastic thoughts are returning. Its like Im back to drunk sex and lonely nights again.

I mean, Ive given up twice, third time is the charm!

I have that feeling of a dull weight pulling on me and I want to cry, yet it seems pointless and selfish.

I smooth my hands over my face.

Pete is writing something. Every now and then he turns to look at me.

I think he can feel it too.

"Room service should be here any moment. That concert was great and Im hungry!" Im sure Joe is trying to ignore it.

"Yeah, good one guys." I smile weakly.

I just feel drained. I dont know.

Now all I need to do is make a mistake.

I let my fingers float over the material of the carpet. They brush through the thick jungle and to my crossed legs.

"Pete." I say.

"What did you take for your depression?" I ask.