Before It's Voiced

Realism

Look at that edit! It's lovely and I love it. @soulpunkpatrick unexpectedly gifted it to me and my stone cold heart has been warmed ever since <3

Beta'd by chaotic-panda, whom I cherish dearly

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re·al·ism

noun

(in art and literature) the movement or style of representing familiar things as they actually are

Patrick's tales only come about every two or three days and never with a warning— stories about Roy, mermonsters, his time at the beach and, if he's particularly tired, his interactions with the stars. Sometimes, they're prompted by questions from Pete-- by a pen in a writer's hand and years of secrets in a siren's head.

Pete writes them in every true way he knows, bleeding emotion onto a page and using Patrick's tears as ink. It feels as if it should be cruel, exploitative even, but Patrick's known from the start that Pete would do this. And his smile when Pete turns to a fresh page is more than enough permission— wary as it is.

The stories, too, ease the mermonsters— at least the ones in Pete's mind. At the worst of times, the creatures are like the needle of a compass, swinging aimlessly in search of something Pete couldn't explain. Seeking, shifting, spinning in ways that cause his mind to ache and throb— ways which make sleep more than a foreign concept but less than ideal. Discombobulated and disorganized, they shift.

Until they hear Patrick speak. Like a true north, they seize on his voice with a fearful force, gathered at the front of Pete's mind but still— so still. Listening with the occasional cackle, the odd comment on how Pete would be better off without this creature in his home. Yes, they still scream and laugh and howl but it's in a unison monsters should never have. A symmetry, Pete feels. An ease.

Perhaps he should be afraid of this, worried that they sense something he can't. For a few days, he lets these concerns consume him. Do they hear something in Patrick's words to help them attack the siren? Do they understand the fear in Pete's tone when he asks his questions?

Or are they clever enough to know what's beneath each conversation? Have they guessed yet the protection Pete promises Patrick, the way he burns with rage at every unjust action in the siren's life? Do they feel what Pete feels when he tells Patrick as much?

Pete puts his pen down for the night, seated at his writing desk as Patrick sleeps.

Can they make out the words he's writing from the scritch-scratch-scritch of his pencil against a page?

As he balls up another paper and tosses it into the trash, Pete desperately hopes they can't.

~

The thing about having Patrick is that it gives Pete a muse. The thing about a muse is that it gives Pete inspiration, motivation, creation, and desire all at once.

The thing about this is that Pete's book is nearly done within a month.

Now, granted, it's not all Patrick's fault. Pete came here because he knew he'd have the time and boredom, knew he'd have no choice but to write a couple thousand words a day. It's just that Patrick took the goal and twisted its straightforwardness into the shape of a hook, slowing Pete down when the last few chapters near.

Slow, slow, and slower. He goes from a few thousand a day to a few hundred until he's lucky to hit fifty in one night. He still scrawls in a notebook when Patrick speaks, still drowns out the monsters with the gentle timbre of Patrick's voice, but he doesn't use it in his books.