Not To Give Away The Ending, But It's Gonna Be Okay.

Chapter 14

I wasn't able to go to the funeral. They said I needed to stay in recovery for a few more hours or days even. Then my parents could decide if they wanted me to go to the therapy program, or a mental institute, or just take me home. I guess we didn't have the money or something, because they just let me come home.
Patrick did come by after the funeral, though. He was still wearing his suit, and he was out of breath when he showed up to my room.
"Hey," he gasped. "I came here as fast as I could."
"It's okay," I smiled. It was cute to see him all flustered.
"Have you ever tried to carry a guitar from your house to your car, the car to the funeral home, the home to BACK to the car, and then up two flights of stairs?"
I laughed.
"Anyway," he continued, opening the case. "I wrote this, and I just need some help to fill in some of the lyrics."
He pulled out the guitar, made sure it was in tune, and smiled at me.
"Ready?" He asked. I nodded excitedly.
"I thought of angels choking on their halos, get them drunk on rose water..." He sang. "See how dirty I can get them pulling out their fragile teeth, and clip their tiny wings."
He laughed ever so lightly, looked at me, and I knew why when I sang the next line:
"Anything you say can and will be held against you, so only say my name..."
"If heaven's grief brings hell's rain, then I'd trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday."
He stopped after the second chorus and said, "Okay. This is your part. You don't have to sing here, but here are the words." He pulled out a paper from inside his guitar case and handed to me. I read my lines quickly and nodded.
"Okay, it goes like this." He started at the end of the chorus and then sang my part: "If I spill my guts...the world will never look at you the same...way." He finished the bridge and did the chorus again.
I applauded him when he finished.
"I love it!" I exclaimed.
"Really? It came pretty easy," he admitted. "I was thinking of you the whole time." He smiled slyly.
"Well, it's great. I can't wait to get out of here so we can practice it."
"Speaking of that," my mom said, coming in the door. "You're getting out tonight."
~~~~~
I went straight to Patrick's garage as soon as I got home. He was playing the song as I got there, the garage halfway open. I ducked under it. He was sitting on the floor again, playing the song and singing along with it. His eyes were closed and I didn't think he heard me come in.
"I want to teach you a lesson in the worst kind of way, still I'd trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday..."
His voice cracked slightly, and not because the notes were too high. I could tell as a tear rolled down his cheek.
I was going to sing the bridge for him, but I didn't know it that well and I didn't want to risk embarrassing myself. So he finished the song alone.
"Y/N," he said when he finished. "I didn't hear you..."
"You sounded great," I complimented as he stood up.
"Thanks," he said. "Wanna work on it together?"
I smiled and nodded.
We practiced the song over and over for almost an hour. I think it sounded great. Our voices meshed really well together. When we finally finished the song he set down his guitar, beaming.
"You did great." He said.
I looked down.
"Nah,"
"Yeah, you did," he smiled, putting a hand on my cheek and lifting my face up to his to look at him. "You gotta believe me. You really did sound amazing. I'm so lucky to have a girl like you." He took his hand down from my face, but I kept looking up at him.
"What do you mean?" I questioned. "By 'you're lucky to have a girl like me?'"
"Oh, um...I just kinda thought, you know...we...yeah, sorry."
"Don't apologize, Patrick." He was the CUTEST thing when he got flustered. "Are you saying I'm your girlfriend?" I pulled myself closer to his side.
"Well, I mean...only if you're okay with that."
"Of course I'm okay with that!" I laughed and closed my eyes, bringing my lips closer to his.
It was a slow kiss at first, soft and mild, but we both knew we wanted more.
My heartbeat sped up considerably as my arms went around his neck and his to my back, pulling me onto him so I was sitting on his lap. He put a hand on my cheek and I ran a hand through his hair and bit his lip softly. He returned the action, then moved down to my neck, leaving a trail of soft kisses down my cheek and jaw. I pulled myself closer to him so our bodies were practically pushed together.
Patrick continued kissing my neck, working his way down slowly to my collarbone. His hands went down to the hem of my shirt, his fingers warm on my skin.
"I-Patrick-" I put my hands on his, stopping him. He pulled back. "I'm sorry," I said. "I love you but..." My voice dropped to a whisper. "I'm not ready."
"Okay. It's okay."
I pushed myself off of his lap, sitting down next to him. I started to stand up.
"Don't leave," he said, pleading.
I sighed.
"Okay. I won't."
"Y/N, it's okay. I'm not mad, I promise."
I shook my head.
"I just...I want to make you happy."
"I'm happy when you're happy," he said, smiling. He kissed my cheek and asked if I wanted to stay for dinner.
"Have you been eating?" He asked. I nodded.
"How much?"
I didn't lie, but I didn't exactly tell the truth, either. I told him how much I'd been eating but just added a few things and made it sound like I'd eaten more.
Patrick smiled when I told him.
"I'm proud of you."
I felt guilty. I didn't tell him the truth. And his pride was put in the wrong place, in the wrong girl.