「 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐵𝑒𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒾𝒻𝓊𝓁 𝐿𝒾𝑒 」Bowers Gang #3

→ Patrick

⇥ Patrick x Reader ⇤
↝ Laying in your arms. ↜
( sorry if there are mistakes :/ )
It had happened quickly. A simple, innocent game of hide and seek. A game the two of you played when things got boring.

You had hid underneath the kissing booth. Thinking it wouldn't take him long to find you, that way the two of you could go back to walking and kissing.

You loved Patrick. You loved his horrific flaws, his small smiles. You loved him for him. He might've been psychopathic and unstable, but he had loved you just as much as you love him.

The minute you heard the twig snap you smiled widely, standing up.

What you didn't notice how close you were to a rock behind you. So when you stood, your heel pressed against the rock, your weight went numb underneath you, causing you to fall back.

It had flashed so quickly.

You falling, smashing your head on a rock, yes it hurt. Yes it was bleeding. You stood back up, hoping your head wouldn't hurt you much, you didn't feel dizzy but then a very strong wave of the water caused you to fall again, this time you were happy to find that you were caught in Patrick's arms.

"Wow, you have great timing." The world was becoming tiring. It felt almost lighter, your body started to ache more and more.

"Why did you have to do that! Y/n!" His voice was far away. And then it clicked. Before you left him he told you he was gonna make sure his knife was in hand and ready, and all you needed to do was make sure that you screamed so he could come save you.

He was coming to find you, so when you stood up from the small stream, he had already been ready to make sure you were okay but when you started falling, his instinct was to catch you. His knife, was still in hand.

The pain in your back was bearable. Mostly because the pain in your body made it dull.

"You should've dropped it." You looked up and frowned, he looked at you with a faint smile ghosting on his lips, somehow, he wandered, how you managed to make such a joke. He pulled his hand from underneath you. Pulling the switchblade along with it.

It was the one you had gotten him for his birthday. It had your initials along with his, they were encased in a small heart and you noticed them, just how red your blood looked.

"I had always thought, that maybe, it would be that clown, the thing that has been haunting children, but instead it's a knife to the back, a little bit ironic, but I'll take what I can get. I'm by you anyways." After taking a deep breathe after that sentence you realized just how much it hurt.

How much it hurt to breathe, how much it hurt to talk. How much it hurt to form simple expressions. It felt as if every ounce of your body didn't want you to move. It hurt so much to even think. Think about standing and think about feeling okay.

It felt weird, when Patrick pulled you closer to his body. There was this weird...coldness. Rushing into your veins. Thought when you felt your clothes getting heavier and...more cold, you realized it was because you had been placed by at least some rushing water.

Your head was against his shoulders, and your body was sprawled in his lap, though for some reason, it felt like the water was getting colder and colder. Freezing your clothes slower and slower. Forcing them to stick to your skin, you could tell Patrick was trying to keep your blood from spilling, the fear on his face...unforgettable.

His eyebrows were furrowed, his lips were quivering and his hands tried not to move from your wound. Your sketched his face in your mind.

The fear on his face, was a look you had never seen before. The faces you knew flashed in your mind.

The smiles he gave you before leaving for his next class, the small smirks that would exchange his features after you two would finish another session of hiding in a closet at the school. The anger in his eyes each time he knew something, or someone had hurt you.

You remembered the small pecks to your forehead after having sex. After making food. After falling asleep, or so he had usually thought.

You wanted it to end. You wanted this suffering to end. Yo I didn't want to be reminded how much you loved him, because it would only make leaving him harder to understand.

A small groan like noise came from his throat, for you what had seemed like minutes was actually only seconds.

"Your not leaving, okay? Henry and Belch are coming. They're coming soon, baby girl just hold on."

You couldn't help but let your lips curl at the sound of your pet name roll off his tongue.

"How..c-can...I leave? I'm....right..here?" Your voice came out slow and a couple times you had coughed.

Patrick cursed at himself for not taking those first aid classes, he cursed at himself for not dropping the damned knife, for not rushing to find you sooner.

He thought about what would happen if he just begged to stay home. Watch a movie or just stay by your house, what would've happened? Would you have fallen there as well. Maybe death around Patrick was supposed to be normal. But he couldn't lose you.

After everything, everything you helped him with. With Avery. With Henry. With his mom. You helped so much and always kept an open mind as much as an open heart to his problems. You made sure that he was always comfortable and you were his in this life and his next.

He didn't know when he felt your body fall lax. He just knew he couldn't let go. When Henry and Belch came. They were both surprised to see him snapping at everyone who came close to you. Which didn't exactly help the police.

—

It had been weeks, nearly a month since you passed. Many different versions of the same story circled the school and town in under a week. Causing everyone to have different opinions.

Some say Patrick was a murder and deserved what he was getting, others thought he was innocent and was getting punished for an accident. Then there were the people who didn't care, they just wanted you to be remembered.

Henry, Victor and Belch had been the ones to plan your funeral. It was a lot on three teenage boys. Though with your parents out of town, they couldn't do anything but help.

Patrick on the other hand. Was another problem. It was like after you died something snapped, he was malicious.

He had attacked Henry, after he had asked what colour you liked. A small subject, but still no reason to freak.

He was given five years in the end.

During the month, he had slowly become violent and wouldn't listen to anyone. Telling them that you were alive. Which you weren't, he had seen you die, he knew you died. He just couldn't bring himself to believe it.

Maybe this was his karma. For Avery at least. He took away something his mother loved, and it had waited for him to take away something he loved. He had done it all on himself, he had himself vulnerable to the insecurity that came with you after you died.

He made himself this way. No matter what anyone told him.