(Patrick's POV)

I could feel my head thumping to the beat of my heart before I opened my eyelids. It made me want to throw the covers over my face and spend the rest of the day balled in a pathetic mess on my bed.

But the sound of pots and pans being moved around in the distance caught my interest. My curiosity beat out my self dread and I sat up. The sunlight streaming in from my parted curtains attacked my eyes as soon as they opened.

I didn't remember opening the damn curtains. Joe must have done it when he woke up this morning. It was nice of him to come over and take care of me yesterday. He told me he'd come at the request of Pete. Which was a good thing. It meant Pete still cared about me.

The blankets were still tucked under me. I shook my head at the memory of how Joe was forced to basically cocoon me in it to keep me from freaking out. I was so fucked up yesterday.

It was hotter in the room than I was comfortable with. I scrambled from under the covers. Noticing the clean sweats and tshirt I was wearing now. Joe must have changed my clothes. My thumb pulled back the elastic waistband of my sweats. Revealing the new briefs under them.

Why would he change my briefs? I didn't think Joe would feel comfortable enough for something like that. We'd been friends for a while but that didn't mean I wanted him to see me naked.

And then a more important thought hit me. He changed my shirt. He saw my scars. He knew about my cutting now. How was I supposed to face him? What if he wanted to talk about it? I wasn't ready to talk about it. I wasn't ready for everybody to know. Pete and Brendon were already two too many.

The doorknob jiggled under Joe's hand. My body tensed up involuntarily. Preparing for the oncoming and unwanted confrontation.

I slumped in relief when Pete walked through the door. A tray of food in his hands. My stomach grumbled as he walked closer. The food was in better view and the smell filled my nose. Eggs, toast, bacon, apple slices and oranges juice. Last time I checked, Pete was a horrible cook. But the meal in front of me looked delightful. The gesture was sweat enough to bring tears to my eyes. He'd never made me breakfast in bed before.

He lowered the tray in my lap and I smiled. Almost afraid to speak and ruin the moment. There was no way he didn't know what happened yesterday. Ryan must have told him. I didn't get why he hadn't walked in screaming about how much of a hypocrite I was.

His eyebrows rose sympathetically when he took a seat beside me. And then I understood. He felt bad for me.

"Y-You made all this?" I broke the silence.

"I ordered it from the diner." He confessed. "But I did put it on the plate." The joke lightened the mood in the room.

I laughed. "You did good."

He frowned when I laughed. His fingers reaching out to touch near the corner of my mouth. The flat of his finger tapping my lip. It wasn't until he touched it that I felt the soreness. There must be a bruise or cut of some sort.

"I swear to God I'm going to kick Ryan's ass." The words were said too softly. It made them more menacing.

"Don't. I deserved it." I lifted up a strip of bacon. Biting into it to distract myself.

Anybody would have reacted the same way in his position. He'd literally walked in on his boyfriend inside of me. Granted, he'd been inside of Pete just days before. Or maybe Pete had been inside or him. Were their positions versatile like Pete and I? I didn't want to think about it but I couldn't help myself.

I'd rather Pete top. For some reason it would feel like less of a betrayal. Unlike the way I'd betrayed him.

"No one deserves to be hit." It was clearly not up for debate. "No matter what or who they did."

"Pete, I'm sorry-"

"Don't."

"We need to talk about this." I didn't like the way he cut me off.

"What we need is a break."

"Pete,no!"

There was no such thing as a break. It was like the painful foreplay before the inevitable break up. I wasn't an idiot. Breaks were used to soften the blow. But they never really did their job. He knew that. And I knew that. And we both also knew that breaks did exactly what they said. They broke people. And I was already broken enough without one.

Pete was trying to break up with me. I knew I fucked up. But so did he! Two wrong never made a right. An eye for an eye left everyone blind but it also left us even. I just got the love of my life back. I wasn't ready to lose him.

"We're in the most unhealthy relationship in the world." He lifted up an apple slice. Paying a ridiculous amount of attention to it. Avoiding looking at me. "Even me damn near dying couldn't change who we are."

"But we have to try!"

"We've been trying since the day I walked into your office."

"You can't do this. I love you."

"You don't have to love me." The words were another punch in the face. I flinched back the same way I did when I was physically hit. His next words were worse than a punch. They were a bullet to my chest. "You already did that and it fucked us up enough for forever."

"N-No."

I didn't need to panic. I tried to tell myself to breathe. But then I was breathing too much. The air leaving and coming in at a rate that was making me dizzy. Pete looked horrified at my hyperventilation. The tray was removed from my lap. His hands were on either side of my head. His nose touching mine.

"Patrick, breathe."

"Pete. You. Can't. Leave. Me." I struggled each word through my breaths. "Pete. Please."

"Baby, calm down." The pads of his thumbs stroked my ears. "Patrick, baby, breathe for me."

"I. Love. You."

"I know that. Oh baby, I know that. Trust me. But you need to slow your breathing. If you love me, slow down."

The combination of his voice and his touch slowly began relaxing me.

"I'm sorry." I managed when I felt okay again. My head was thumping twice as hard now.

"Don't you apologize for that." He scolded. "Don't you ever apologize for that. I'm sorry. I should have been more considerate with my words. I didn't mean it. I just wanted to upset you. I was angry. I am angry. And I'm sorry."

"You didn't mean it?"

"No. I couldn't leave you alone if I wanted to." I smiled. He didn't. "We do need to work this shit out. But in order for that to start you have to do something for me."

"Anything." And I meant that.

**** **** **** **** **** **** ****

"Good afternoon, Patrick." The gray haired man sat in his usual chair across from the couch.

I hadn't seen him since I stormed out of his office weeks ago. My therapist crossed his left leg over the right. Passing me that bullshit welcoming smile he was always wearing. His pen was already being held over his empty notebook. Ready to hear my words and scratch down his judgements.

"Good afternoon."

"How are you?"

"Apparently not the best. I am here."

"What brings you back?" My childish answer was ignored.

"My boyfriend." It was best for me to be honest. I wasn't here because I wanted to be before and nothing had changed.

"Pete?" His eyebrows rose.

So he remembered. "Yes."

"Has he learned about your... habits?"

"Well, yes. But that's not the only problem."

"Oh?"

"We can't stop cheating on each other."

I watched his face for the disgust. For the judgement. But none of it was shown.

"Oh?"

"I slept with my best friend again. Brendon?" I phrased his name as a question. Asking the doctor if he remembered me discussing him. He nodded for me to continue. "He's the problem now instead of Elisa."

"How is Elisa?"

"I don't know. I haven't spoken to her." He began writing. I felt like he wanted an explanation. "I know that's crazy because she's having my kid."

"How do you feel about that?"

"I don't want it." Plain. Simple.

"Why?"

"I never wanted kids. She knew that."

"I understand."

"D-Do you think I should talk to her?"

"I think you should do whatever feels right for you."