Chapter 11

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by rac06h10ael

by rac06h10ael

-Patrick's POV-

I dejectedly stepped through the threshold into my house and slammed the door behind me. The entire ride home from the bar Zack had invited me to, in which I was consciously unaware of the speed limits, I thought about everything he told me - how, no matter what happened, Gwen was going to stay with him; how, despite the numerous times Gwen told me what we had was special, she'd done this before, numerous times; but probably most of all, how I was so stupid as to fall for her and her conniving ways. It hurt me to think like that, because I wanted to love Gwen, I really did. I wanted to love her and take her out of the misery she claimed to be in with Zack. But how could I when she was lying to me just as much as she was lying to her husband?

Without giving second thought to what time it was, I trudged further into the house and into the kitchen. I flicked on the light switch and made my way over to the refrigerator, where I scanned the shelves for something to eat or drink. It didn't matter, I just needed something to distract me from the thoughts racing through my mind.

I snatched a bottle of vodka from the back and unscrewed the top, not even bothering to obtain a glass before putting the cold bottle to my lips. Before I could get an ounce of the smooth, clear liquid down my throat, there was a knock on my door. I glanced over my shoulder, wondering who it could be.

"Patrick?" A soft voice sounded on the other side. "Are you home?"

I raised an eyebrow and set the bottle down on the counter, walking out of the room and into the foyer. I wrapped my hand around the doorknob and slowly pulled the door open to reveal a person I thought I'd never see again.

"Elisa?" I asked, completely and utterly astonished. "W-What are you doing here?"

"Pete called me," She explained, tilting her head down, "He said he was worried about you."

I chuckled. "Why? I'm fine."

"He told me you're in a bad relationship and that I need to talk you out of it." If there was one thing I missed about Elisa, it was her honesty and direct way of dealing with things. She could never lie to me, unlike Gwen seemed to do just fine. Her cheeks grew a faint shade of red before she slightly motioned behind me. "Mind if I come in?"

"Yeah, actually, I kind of do," I replied coldly, stepping in the space between the threshold and the door.

She frowned. "Okay, we'll talk here then."

"Who said I wanted to talk to you?"

"No one, but Patrick, what are you doing with yourself?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're in love with a girl who's married to someone else, a girl who has a child with that someone else," Elisa murmured, looking at me sympathetically, "Patrick, that's a family you're getting in the middle of, a family you're tearing apart."

"She doesn't even love him, though!" I snapped, trying to justify my actions, "He doesn't really love her either! They're just too scared to end it."

"Just like we were," She interrupted me before I could say any more. I crossed my arms. "Patrick, we weren't even married, but do you remember how much trouble we had breaking up? Because you were worried about how much attention we were going to receive and what everyone was going to say about it?" I remained silent, averting my gaze to my feet. "Here, let me ask you this: he's in a band too, right?"

"Yeah..."

"So you can imagine what he's going through. The only difference is that the only thing you had going for you was your band. He's got his band, his wife, and his kid. Do you really want to be the reason he loses all of that?"

I scoffed. "Well let me ask you something: How does that fucking husband of yours feel? He broke you and me up. He's the reason we split. So how does he feel about that?"

"Patrick..." Her voice trailed off. It might've been true that she never lied to me, but there were definitely times when she refused to tell me the truth. Like then, for example. And it wasn't because she couldn't, but because she didn't want to, knowing it would hurt me.

"Answer my question," I challenged her, a harshness to my tone, "Tell me how he feels. Tell me what was going through his head when he took you away from me."

"He didn't take me away from you, Patrick-"

"Of course he did," I retorted, almost immediately after my name effortlessly rolled off of her tongue, "The reason we broke up is because you met that guy while I was away and you 'fell in love' with him." I brought my hands up and bent my index and middle fingers, making "air quotes" in an act of mockery. Elisa rolled her eyes, the two of us having had this conversation many times before. "Elisa, if it weren't for him, we would still be together."

"No we wouldn't have!" She cried, losing her cool for a split second before putting her hand to her forehead and tilting her head down, "Patrick, I didn't want to tell you this because I care about you and I don't want to hurt you, but I was going to leave you no matter what. I wasn't happy with you."

"Yeah, well, Gwen can say the same about her and Zack," I argued, "I'm just like the guy who did that to you." I pointed down to her rounded stomach which she protectively covered with her arms. I shook my head and dropped my hand to my side. "So what are you really doing here, Elisa? Because, the way it looks to me, your being here is pointless. You can't be on Pete's side this time, because what I'm doing is the same thing your husband did. And if you love your husband, you're not going to defend against his past actions, are you?"

"Patrick, this is different!" She tried to convince me. "They've got a family! We didn't!"

"We could've had one," I deadpanned. Elisa slowly met my gaze. "Look, it's late Elisa and I really just want to go to bed. So let me leave you with this: I'm not the bad guy here, and I'm doing just fine. Go tell Pete he doesn't need to worry about me and then go back home, would you? There's nothing more to discuss here."

"But Patrick!"

I bent my fingers back and forth. "Bye, Elisa." I grasped the doorknob and pushed the door close, rolling my eyes once my ex-girlfriend was out of my sight. I stepped away from the door and dragged myself back into the kitchen, where I snatched up the vodka and brought the bottle to my lips, tilting my head back and downing the beverage.