Dichotomous Thinking

XVII

Patrick had left a while ago. Something about needing to get somewhere. Deep down, Pete knew that Patrick only left because he didn't want to start a fight. They were dead, for fuck's sake, they had nowhere to be. It was a shitty excuse, and they both knew it. Pete let him get away with it though. He wasn't ever a confrontational person, not with Patrick. (Never with Patrick)

He looked around at his office, the bright lights and the white walls. He remembered trying to paint over them at one point when they got too much for him. It didn't work. (It never does)

There were times he never went home, choosing to stay in his office working until he couldn't do so anymore. He got sick of things easily. Yet, there were times when he wouldn't even come into work, feeling like the bright white walls were closing in on him. He got tired of things easily. They were both awful habits, and he couldn't seem to kick them.

Pete laid back on his (ratty) old couch and he lit a cigarette. Another bad habit he couldn't seem to get rid of.

In his honest opinion, he's been at this for far too long. Being an angel was starting to be too much for him. Especially when he came face to face with not only his best friend, but the one friend he could have helped. He'd leave this job if he wasn't so afraid of change. He was never afraid of change when he was alive. 

Pete never really thought he was a good person. He was always quick to point out the flaws he saw in himself. Too scared, too rigid, too formal, too energetic, too nice, too angry, too sad. The list goes on. He didn't deserve to go to Heaven. He doesn't deserve to go to Heaven. Patrick deserved (deserves) Heaven. Frank deserved (deserves) Heaven.

Maybe the way he was mistreating Frank had something to do with the seed of guilt that was planted in his heart when he saw Patrick again. He only ever wanted Patrick to be happy, they were best friends. Seeing Patrick absolutely and utterly miserable was horrible for him, especially since he couldn't do anything to help him. Of course, that was years ago, but the guilt never went away. When Frank died, it seemed to bloom into a flower that leached on his energy and his positivity like some sort of parasite. Another person he could have saved, except this time it felt as if he chose not to save him. His guilt was probably just turning into (misplaced) anger, and he took it out on Frank. (Poor Frank)

He wondered sometimes if Patrick was okay in Hell, or wherever the fuck he went off to. He had to go somewhere when he wasn't here, right? It didn't matter. Pete just hoped he was safe, wherever he was.

Pete let out a loud sigh, stubbing out his cigarette on his couch and throwing his arm over his eyes. He tried to forget about the look on Frank's face when he shot Bert, just like he was still trying to forget about the day he died.

So far, it hasn't been working very well, for either issue.

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Hey y'all!!!! I succ but i warned y'all i'm a whole ass mess there isn't a schedule for a reason EAT MY ASS AHHAHA i lov y'all

anyways y'all kno i love to talk to u guys so i appreciate comments also!!! new chapter (may) be up soon so look out for that 

also sorry there wasn't any Tragic Backstory but if y'all want it i might make like,,, a bonus chapter abt Pete if u guys want just drop a comment 

we recently hit 800 reads i luv u guys y'all make it so that i don't flop thank u

also i know how i want this 2 end now!!! so there may be less rambling and more advancement of plot but lol,,, prolly not but WE'LL GET THERE SOMEHOW

xoSoph