Four years and six months into the future

"'Trick, baby it's three pm you gotta get up, you have therapy in a hour" Pete told his husband softly. Patrick groaned and pressed his face farther into the pillow. "Don't wanna" he mumbled, Pete smiled and ruffled Patricks mop of strawberry blond hair. "Come on Rick you can't miss it again. You skipped it last week and the week before" he placed the cup full of coffee on the night stand and helped Patrick sit up. Patrick smiled a bit when Pete kissed his forehead softly and rubbed his chubby hips. "Therapy baby" Pete told Patrick with a stern but loving voice. Patrick hated therapy but he knew that he wasn't going to get out of it so he sighed and nodded.
Once Patrick had showered and gotten dressed, Pete drove him to Dr, Collin's office. Pete gave Patrick a bagel with cream cheese and a kiss before he unlocked the Patrick's door and let him leave the car.

"Patrick, how are you feeling today?" Dr, Collin asked his patient. John Collin's was an older man with a thick British accent and red glasses on the tip of his nose.
Patrick shrugged and continued to nibble on his bagel. "Patrick use your words, we are not in a kindergarten" Dr, Collins shamed the younger man.
"I'm fine, besides my three panic attack's this week and my episode where I almost killed my fucking husband, yeah I am fucking fine" Patrick spat and took a bigger bite of the warm bread.
Dr, Collins sighed and looked at his clipboard. Patrick had been recovering well from his eating disorders, it might have taken four years plus the six months in a rehab center that his best friend forced him to go to after his third suicide attempt. Patrick quickly got over his heroin addiction after he found out about the dent it made in his bank account. They were working on his smoking but it had switched from cigarettes to legal marijuana. Self harm was also still a working progress but from Pete's reports Patrick had been four weeks clean since the some incident with his son Dr, Collins still didn't know about.
"Patrick, you have been making significant progress with your eating disorders. You have gotten back to a healthy weight and from your husbands reports, you have been eating well and no signs of purging after." Patrick nodded and licked some of the cream cheese off of his upper lip. "But I have not heard any progress about your self harm."
Patrick pulled his sleeves down, don't let them find out. "I haven't cut in weeks" he hissed at his therapist.
"You know Patrick, if you stopped cutting your son would probably talk to you more" Dr, Collins told Patrick with a calm voice, not even looking up from his clipboard. "You don't know shit!" Patrick screamed and threw his bagel at his therapist before storming out of the dull room the exited the building. Patrick stormed up to Pete's car and pulled the door handle, expecting the car to be unlocked but screaming in frustration when the door was locked. Pete was woken by the light movement of the car and Patricks scream, he glanced at his frowning husband and unlocked the car. Pete's worried eyes scanned Patricks face, it was red and he looked like he was about to explode. "C-can we go h-home?" Patrick asked Pete while getting into the passenger seat and buckling his seat belt. Pete nodded and pressed the 'power' button, he pressed his foot down on the gas petal then backed out of his parking place.

They didn't discuss the fact that Patrick left his therapy session a half a hour early. Patrick went straight back to his bedroom when they arrived home, leaving Pete to pick up Declan from school. Pete grabbed his keys again and went off to pick up his husband's son.  Five minutes away from Declan's school Pete had gotten torn into deep thought. He was beyond worried about his husband. He had seen the pink lines on Patrick's tummy, Pete heard Patrick crying at 3 am into his pillow, thinking Pete was sleeping and that the pillow would muffle his sobs. What if Patrick was still suicidal, being left alone in thought would make everything worse. Pete pressed his foot down on the gas pedal and swerving into the school parking lot.
"Declan, shit! Fuc— Where's Saint?" Pete asked the ten year old who has just gotten into the passenger seat. "Saint had to collect his phone from the principal and Bronx waiting for him, they will be out soon" Declan replied with a bit of sass in his soft voice. "Tell them to hurry the fuck up!" Pete practically growled, staring at his phone while impatiently tapping his foot. A few moments later, the two Wentz boys walked up to the car and got into the backseats of Pete's black Suburban. The second the doors closed Pete speed out of the parking lot and onto his way back to Patrick's house.
Pete felt his heart beat quicken as he pulled into the driveway, fuck fuck fuck! Pete thought to himself he flung the front door open and raced inside. "'Trick!"