I cried to myself in my bed, not knowing what to do. Alex was in front of me, confused and confronted with so much emotion. He looked like a lost puppy. Lost.
"I-I'm sorry patrick," he apologised. He sounded like this was the first time he had apologised. "I'm sorry for everything."
"Why?" The brunette asked. "Why do you say you love me when you clearly don't?"
"But I do!" He interjected. "I...this is how I love."
"What do you mean?"
"My dad was an alcoholic. He used to hit me when I was younger. He'd left now but...that's all I can think about when I look outside in the rain," he said. I was shocked.
"What happened to him?" I asked.
"I killer him," he held out his hands. "With these hands alone."
"And my mum...she's a prostitute," he said. "He doesn't care about me. She doesn't care about anything. She just cares about the drugs, the money and the sex."
"I'm...I'm so sorry Alex," I said.
"But you shouldn't be," Alex said with enthusiasm. "You've helped me. You're kind patrick. You're so kind and soft and raw. I haven't met anyone else like you."
"You barely know me,"
"But I do," Alex smiled. "I've watched you for so long. I never had the chance to talk to you but...I know you. So much more than you know yourself," he held my hands. "I love you."
My heart shattered then pierced together again. My breath hitched.
"I don't know what I say," I said. "This is too much for me to handle."
"I get it..." Alex said, pulling out a guitar from underneath the bed.
"Woah what?" I asked in confusion. He strummed a note.
"I've never told anyone but..." he said in a low voice. "I'm actually a musician."
Oh, well imagine
As I'm pacing the pews in a church corridor
And I can't help but to hear
No, I can't help but to hear an exchanging of words
What a beautiful wedding
What a beautiful wedding, says a bridesmaid to a waiter
And, yes, but what a shame
What a shame the poor groom's bride is a whore
I chime in with a
Haven't you ever heard of closing a goddamn door?
No, it's much better to face these kinds of things with a sense of poise and rationality
I chime in
Haven't you ever heard of closing a goddamn door?
No, it's much better to face these kinds of things with a sense of
Oh, well in fact
Well I'll look at it this way
I mean, technically, our marriage is saved
Well this calls for a toast
So pour the champagne
Oh, well in fact
Well I'll look at it this way
I mean, technically, our marriage is saved
Well this calls for a toast
YOU ARE READING
Play With Me
SpiritualPatrick was the loveable, queer loser. Alex was the bad boy. What happens when the bad boy kidnaps the boy next door? Is it true love? Or is it sick and dangerous? A prequel to Love Games.
