Patrick is alone. He's been alone for a long while, and all he's done so far is lie on the couch, sulk, and eat the entire house. It's been four days since Andy and the staff left him, and he's about to go fucking crazy without human contact.

He seriously talked to an orange yesterday, naming it after his favourite YouTuber, Shane Dawson. So, maybe he's going a little crazy.

Not to mention that he's gained at least twenty pounds since he got injured four months ago. He really needs to do something about that.

He gets up, sighing when he's fully standing, stretching his legs a little. Patrick makes his way to his workout room, loving the perks of being rich.

He figures that maybe if he works out twice a day and then swims about ten laps a night, maybe he'll lose the weight faster than he gained it. He'll have to put the potato chips and pop away, though.

He tears off his shirt, starting up his elliptical machine before climbing atop it and actually going. He climbs four miles of stairs, which takes bout an hour. He burned about a thousand or two calories, maybe as much as he'd eaten that day.

But working out didn't really get his mind off of Pete. He thinks about what he's done. He met Pete because Pete ran over him. Pete has asthma, anxiety, and he's bipolar. Pete's hot as fuck.

Okay, now he's just listing off straight, actually not really, facts now. The point, though, is that Pete would be good for him. Unlike Bob, who Patrick thinks really only wants him for the fucks and the good publicity of having a known face on his arm.

It's day eight without anyone to communicate with. So Patrick's currently swimming laps as fast as he can, which is pretty fast considering he used to be on swim team in high school. He's gone over his goal, having done probably twenty something laps by now. He's lost a lot of weight in the four days he's been working out, often forgetting to count his laps and going way over. He hasn't eaten much either.

He doesn't notice a door opening or someone sitting down on the edge of the pool until lap thirty -- or somewhere near it. When he finally comes up gasping for air, he freaks out and breathes in water, almost drowning.

Luckily enough, Pete jumps in the pool fully clothed and drags Patrick to the steps. When Patrick's finally breathing normally again, Pete mutters, "The fuck's wrong with you?" Patrick laughs.

There's multiple things wrong with him
at the moment. The first? He's in love with Pete while he's dating Bob. Who the fuck knows? Pete and Mikey could be back together for all he knows. He hopes different, though. Boy, is he hoping?

"Despite what you did, I can't say I didn't miss you," Pete says, shrugging his shirt off. Patrick's eyes are instantly glued to some new tattoos that weren't there when he left a little over a week ago.

"Well," Patrick says, swallowing, "those are, uh, new," He points at the bat heart skull with wings directly above his waistband.

"Tongue tied, huh, Stumpy?" Pete winks before jumping back in the pool. He resurfaces, smiling at Patrick as he takes both hands and pushes his hair out of his face.

"So we're not going to talk about this?" Patrick asks, slipping back in the pool. Pete shakes his head as Patrick gets closer to him. "I think you should punch me or something," Pete pretends to think.

"Can I? You know, but with my mouth?" Pete asks, and holy shit, he's fucking smooth.

"I can do that for you," But before their lips connect, Andy bursts through the door.

"You're not kissing him until you deal with Bob," He says, halting both Pete and Patrick's movements. Patrick groans.

"That's actually a good idea," Pete says. Patrick shakes his head at the two of them and their evilness.

"Get the fuck out. We're going to a party," Andy commands. Joe comes in, hair cut differently. It's kind of shaved on the sides but full on the top, and fuck Patrick's never thought he was more attractive in this moment.

"Damn," He mumbles under his breath. Andy glares at him for a brief second before kissing Joe's temples as they walk out. Patrick thinks he sees Andy's hand grip either Joe's lower back or his ass so hard his knuckles turn white. Patrick would bet on the latter, if he's being completely honest.

"Did he just..?" Pete asks, trailing off as Patrick dries himself with a towel. He tosses it to Pete.

"I think so,"

--

"It's fucking loud in here!" Pete yells above the music. Patrick laughs lowly.

"That's why you stay close to me so I can make sure no one slips anything into your drink," He says in Pete's ear, hot breath on the latter's neck. Pete visibly shivers. "Dance with me?" Patrick asks. Pete simply nods, fear of not being heard over the Stand Up Guy song playing.

They get to the middle of the dance floor before Patrick's hands lie on Pete's hips.

"Gonna grind on me or just stand there, baby?" Patrick asks a little impatiently, hands squeezing Pete's hips. Pete smirks before doing what Patrick asked. His ass grinds against Patrick's crotch, Patrick's hands gripping him tighter and tighter.

Andy and Joe watch from the bar, laughing at the two of them. "Why didn't we have that phase?" Joe asks.

"'Cause I don't grind. I fuck," Andy says honestly. Joe laughs.

so yay another update.

I'm a little sad that I missed my update yesterday so sorry but anyways shit this is nearing an end, I fear.

this is actually one of my favourite stories I've written, if I'm being honest & I'll be srsly sad to see it go.

so you should comment right HERE which one of my stories that you've read is your favourite. please.

thanks babes.