heavenly | p.hockstetter

fifteen

for once, patrick wasn't late to school. something awoke him in the middle of the night, and regardless of what it was, he couldn't get back to sleep. this wasn't uncommon for the hormonal boy but it irritated him nonetheless. after tossing and turning for several hours, he realised his efforts were fruitless and decided to visit the junkyard. the sun was hours from rising, so he spent his time in the cool, dark, early hours of the morning setting fire to various flammable scraps he found around his sacred fridge. it wasn't enough to deter him from his small acts of arson, but his rude awakening had yet to leave his mind. he wasn't sure if he was more curious as to what it was, or just plain pissed off that his sleep was disturbed, but either way his mind had been swirling with similar themes ever since that bitch showed up. and he was not pleased about it.
not. one. bit.

once the sun had been up for a while, he assumed the route to school; picking up litter, setting it alight and then snuffing it out with the burnt toe of his boot the whole trip there. he had no watch, no way to tell what time it was, but he immediately noted the absence of belch's car and groaned. patrick didn't hate being alone, in fact he preferred it, but he'd much rather let henry do the "talking" at school to save patrick the energy of having to deter the ingrates himself. the school was bustling with the usual high school bullshit he preferred to avoid. nonetheless, once he finished his last cigarette of the morning, he stormed through the halls until he was firmly planted in his usual homeroom seat. there were only a few others in the classroom, though the scraping of his chair against the floor was intimidating enough for a measly, acne-ridden boy in the front to up and leave the classroom to avoid any chance of spending some alone time with patrick. he laughed at the reaction from the kid, along with the flinches from the few others in the classroom.

he retrieved his lighter from his pocket and began to singe the corner of his desk, a common alternative to carving the tabletop when his knives weren't fulfilling enough. his tough fingers smudged away some of the char created by the lighter, exhaling quickly in amusement as he read over some of the unsightly things carved into his desk. he remembered the circumstance and time of each one.

'king flamer', a title bestowed upon him by belch after a drunken night of arson and mischief.

'suck it and see' patrick had heard this in a film once and liked that it sounded both threatening and vaguely sexual.

'check under your desk' patrick squinted, unable to recall the origin of this one. he sat up in his chair and returned the lighter to his pocket, staring at the carving from different angles as if it would unlock the memory of where it came from.

nothing.

he couldn't recall a sliver of when or why this was carved there, so he cautiously folded his lanky torso up to peek under his desk. his fingertips met the wooden underside and felt around for something, anything as he continued to squint in confusion and annoyance.
"who the fuck carved my desk" he muttered under his breath as his search continued. finally, in the very centre, his fingers caught against something... flat. paper? plastic? he felt around for what he couldn't see to try and remove it, but eventually gave up and yanked it from it's hidden spot. he squinted at it, as if his glare would intimidate the inanimate object enough to erase the entire situation.

tag, you're it.

his temper began to boil as the mystery refused to unravel before him. he finally focussed on the polaroid itself: a teddybear.

"what kind of childish bulls-"

then it hit him. this was his bear. from his mom. in his room. and it was his secret.

it was her.

his skin crawled with infuriation, crumpling up the polaroid and throwing it to the ground below him. it only took him a moment for his senses to kick in, for him to pick up the photograph before anyone else could see it. the bear. the bear with his name plastered across it. nobody could know about this. she had to end.

his hands gripped the chair until his knuckles turned white, preparing to storm out of the classroom and find the demon bitch, but before he could escape - the bell rang. he threw himself back down on his chair and scoffed angrily, biting his lip to contain his rage. slowly, the remaining students and teacher filed in. he stared at each individual head, marking them off one by one as he waited for her. he wanted her cornered, weak, and unable to fight back. and yet nothing came of it. the students had settled, the class had commenced, and there was nothing to be seen or heard of her.

three quarters of an hour went by - nothing. by the end of class, patrick swore his teeth were turned to stumps of roots and decay as he clenched and ground his teeth all class, waiting for his revenge. his relief.

it wasn't until he left the classroom - the last person out the door mind you, when he smelled that smell. that sickly sweet, hospital clean kind of smell. he felt all the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as he looked up to lock eyes with the devil herself.

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a/n: WOW THANK U THANK U THANK U! for all the support and love! it's truly unimaginable and i'm so thankful and proud! i Know this is a filler but i Promise you the other half to this will be out within 24 hours and then the next chapter will be god awful juicy 😈