Patrick's father didn't ask any questions about Pete when Patrick returned the Lincoln the next morning. He took the keys his son held out for him over the threshold of the front door and placed the key to Patrick's Subaru in his palm. Patrick quietly returned the car key to his key ring and moved to walk away.
"Did you happen to replace the gas you used?" his father called out after him.
Patrick smirked. His first genuine one in days.
"With those prices? Outrageous," he replied over his shoulder.
It was only nine in the morning when Patrick took his car back home. He drummed his fingers against the wheel, hoping his phone would ring.
They had made the deal early on. Patrick would leave Pete alone to make decisions without influence. If he decided to give Patrick another chance, he would reach out. If not, well, Patrick knew it was his own fault.
Noon was the deadline.
Patrick couldn't keep still. He needed to talk to himself. Clean something. Reorganize something. Count or snap or cry or scream.
And Juneau, in all her sweet dog glory, only wanted to take a mid-morning nap on his lap.
Being aware of time passing in silence was torture.
Your fault. You're a disgrace. You deserve to lose him. You never deserved to have him.
I know.
He scratched behind Juneau's ears. "Will you hate me," he asked her, "if Pete doesn't come around to spoil you anymore?"
She cracked an eye open at the mention of Pete's name before closing it again and sighing.
Patrick sighed too. "Thought so." His hand stilled in her fur. "I really do love him, you know."
He felt the itch to reach for him phone. It hadn't chimed, but maybe there was a message anyway. He closed his eyes and counted to twelve.
Checking won't make a text pop up.
You won't be getting one, anyway.
"I can't expect him to forgive me. If he tells me it's beyond repair, I won't even fight for it. The least I can do is respect what he wants, right?"
But Patrick still checked his phone consistently as time passed. And time passed so slowly. He slipped out from underneath Juneau's stomach and laid down on the couch behind her. He hugged her to his chest and hid his face in the thick fur at the back of her neck.
"I don't know what I'd do without you, Junie. Couldn't stand to be home when you were with Charlotte."
Juneau sighed once again.
"I know," Patrick muttered, closing his eyes. "Your life is so hard."
So, when his phone did finally chime an hour later, he startled. The knots in his stomach returned. He needed to check, but he couldn't move his fingers from their clutch in Juneau's fur.
After a few minutes of internal battle, he reached over to tap the screen.
"Dammit, Andy," he muttered with a sigh. He was unsure whether it was relief or annoyance.
When a second text from Andy lit up his phone, he was positive that he was annoyed. Feeling his heart stop only to get a text from his friend was agonizing.
He counted to twelve under his breath. Then again. He snapped three times and tossed his head back against the couch cushion. Juneau sighed from the disturbance.
"Stop sighing," Patrick mumbled, rubbing his forehead with the heel of his hand. "You sound like Pete, sighing at me all the time."
Patrick groaned at his own comment.
"I hate myself."
When he got a text from Joe, he was positive that he was going to snap. But turning his phone off simply wasn't an option. Throwing it across the room to land on the recliner only meant that he had to go get it.
The knock on the door during his trek back to the couch was about to be the final straw. Hand running through his hair, he unceremoniously yanked the door open and immediately startled.
"Don't have a heart attack," Pete said, reaching out to steady Patrick's waist before snatching his hand back like he touched a hot stove. "It's just me."
Patrick opened his mouth to speak, but no words could come out.
"I know that we agreed on, well, I don't think this can happen over the phone. Never could," Pete said. "And I know it's already after eleven. I'm sorry. I meant to be earlier, but I guess you wore me out last night. Haven't had an emotional roller-coaster like that in ages."
He came to dump you in person.
He never said that. Yet.
You know he did.
Pete stepped inside, and as Patrick closed the door, he heard Juneau jump off the couch. Pete smiled and bent down, letting her lick the side of his face.
"Yes, yes, I missed you, too. Can't even be away for a night, can I?"
"I think she prefers you to me," Patrick said, definitively not allowing his voice to shake.
Most people do, anyway.
Pete shook his head and rose back to his feet. "She only likes me because I like you. Wouldn't let me anywhere near you otherwise."
"Pete, if you're going to dump me, I need you to do it right now before I lose my mind."
"I'm not really that brave," Pete admitted. "I'm a coward in the end. I would've done it over the phone after not sleeping all night."
"But you're. . ."
"Yeah." He took a step forward. "It's your decision, too. You don't have to let me stay."
"I love you." Patrick couldn't hold it back any longer. He was going to beg if he had to. Screw acceptance. He would be on his knees clinging to Pete's legs in an instant if necessary.
Pete smiled. "I love you, too."
But maybe it wouldn't be necessary. That didn't mean he wouldn't do it regardless.
Patrick visibly shuddered. Pete collected him in his arms and hugged him close.
"I'm sorry."
"I know. It'll be okay." Pete tucked his nose in Patrick's hair. "So long as we're completely exclusive and I reserve the right to have you killed if you ever hurt me again."
"Sounds fair," Patrick agreed.
YOU ARE READING
Paint by Numbers (Peterick)
Fanfiction"Come on, Patrick," Pete said, fingers grazing down the other man's arm. He smirked as he felt Patrick react to his touch and catch his fingers before they were pulled away. "Life isn't all numbers and logic. Math is meant to be a bore. The world is...
