I'm the Secret You'll Swear to Keep

/Five/

It's comfortably warm. He opens his eyes expecting to see Pete. Instead, there's an empty bed and Patrick's curled tightly in the spot Pete was once in. The sheets are bunched around him.

"Hey," Pete is suddenly at the edge of the bed, peering into the tired baby blues.

Patrick lifts his head off the pillow. "Hey," He sits up quicker. "Wait, am I suppose to be gone?"

Pete frowns. "No?"

"But in the movies--"

"I thought we were more than a one night stand, 'Trick." The nickname rolls off his tongue so perfectly.

"We are." Patrick answers quickly. "I want to be."

Pete smiles, leaning forward to claim Patrick's lips. "Are you hungry?"

"I-I could eat."

"I made breakfast. Get dressed while I finish it." Pete pecks his lips again before standing to leave the room.

God, Pete is perfect. He cooks, he lets Patrick stay, and he's not those assholes in the movies. He's like Fabio or something, the dream guy everyone hopes for. Patrick stands to grab his dirty boxers but realizes Pete has taken his clothes to the wash already, and they sit at the end of the bed in a warm pile.

Marry him, Patrick.

Patrick quickly pulls on his things and rushes out into the kitchen. "Hey, thanks for washing my stuff."

"No worries, everyone should have clean stuff." Pete sets a plate of eggs and toast on the table. "I already ate, but do you mind if I shower while your eat?"

Patrick takes his seat. "Not at all, thank you." He nods to the plate.

Pete only smiles, turning to the front and back door before heading back to his room. Patrick watches the movie left of the television. He hasn't had a proper hot breakfast in a while, and it's absolutely delicious.

After ten minutes, Patrick's almost done with his plate and the hum of the shower has stopped. Pete steps out, drying himself with a towel. He walks into his room, starting to dress.
There's a loud slam as he tugs the shirt over his head, causing Pete to freeze.

The bloodcurdling scream that follows has him sprinting to the main room. There's a man, dressed in a red and black suit, pointing a gun at Patrick. The older grabs the shaking boy, pulling him behind a counter.

"H-He broke in a-and he's got a gun!" Patrick hyperventilates.

"Calm down," Pete says, just as the man opens fire. "Stay here. Don't move, got it?"

Patrick nods. When Pete moves, he tugs Pete back. "What are you doing!?"

More gunfire.
Reload.
More.
It's getting closer, and they're moving toward the duo.

"Stay here! Let me handle this!" Pete says, standing before Patrick can move.

Pete quickly grabs a butchers knife off the counter, ducking back with Patrick. Patrick watches from corner of the counter as Pete stands, clutching the tip of the blade between his pointer finger and thumb. He cocks his arm back and throws it, the tip penetrating deep into the center of the offenders forehead.

"Ohmygod," Patrick scrambles to his feet, stepping away from Pete.

"You're not safe, come on!" Pete holds out his hand.

"Please don't kill me." Patrick pleads.

Pete shakes his head, confusion and guilt twisting his face. "No, Patrick." He steps forward. "I'm helping you, and I need to get you somewhere safe."