(Patrick's POV)

"Pat?" Brendon's voice was the only sound in the house. And it was too damn loud. Why was he yelling? How did he even get in? I needed to start locking my damn door. "Patrick, you're fucking late again."

My eyes rolled to the watch on my wrist. I was hella late. It was almost 9:00. There would be a patient waiting outside that locked door in a few minutes. One who needed my expertise. It was selfish of me to be in this emotionally messy state when so many people's lives depended on me.

I shouldn't have gotten into the medical field. I should have done something easier. Something where I wouldn't have to disappoint so many people all the time. I lifted up the beer in my hand. Examining the label on the front. I should have been a bar owner.

"Should I just go get Tyler? Why is your door always unlocked?" Brendon was coming closer to the bedroom. I didn't hear his footsteps but his voice was louder. "He actually did really well yester- holy shit, Pat."

He finally shut up when he pushed open my room door. I could understand his panic. I was sitting on the floor in front of my bed. Empty beer bottles circling me like crowd. Cheering on my negligence. Applauding me for starting my day the same way I'd ended it. A fucking mess.

My head rested back on the side of the mattress. I refused to lay where Pete and I once laid. The floor was going to be my bed from now on. I wasn't wearing anything but a pair of jeans and emotional despair. My cuts were on full display. I didn't even give a shit about hiding them anymore. Anyone who mattered already knew about them.

"Y-You were right." The words hurt to admit. So I took another swig of my drink to ease the pain.

Seeing Brendon's face only reminded me of Ryan. And Ryan reminded me of what he and Pete had done. My bottom lip quivered. My blurred mental state making my emotions charge full force. I fought against the rush of heat behind my eyes. How did I sill have any tears left in me?

My best friend scurried over to me. Instead of dropping down to my level, his hands slipped under my arms. Lifting me up almost effortlessly. Pushing me against the bed with his hip. I had no idea Brendon was that strong. Instead of holding my own weight, I slumped against him. The tears sliding down my flushed cheeks.

"You were right." I said again. Louder this time. Trying to keep my voice from cracking.

"What? Right about what? What's wrong, Patrick? Why are you crying? You're scaring me."

"Pete and Ryan had sex. They had sex that night." Why wasn't he following me? Wasn't it obvious? It so oh so fucking obvious and I missed it.

What you and Pete do is none of my business.

Tyler's words should have been all the evidence I needed and I missed it. Maybe I didn't miss it. Maybe I just refused to see it.

"Ryan was in the hospital." Brendon pushed me off of him. Not in an angry way, but in tired way. Unable to hold me any longer.

"He lied. He was fucking Pete."

"No." He dismissed the idea immediately. His tone desperate like he needed to believe it was a lie. It made me feel bad for him. Almost as bad as I felt for myself.

But denial wouldn't be becoming on either of us. It was time to face the hard, cold truth. We'd been cheated on. "They fucked, Brendon."

"Look, don't drag Ryan into whatever you and Pete have going on." He turned on his heels. "I'm going to make you some tea or something to calm you down. And then we have to get to work."

"They fucked before they were with us." I shadowed him as he walked out of my bedroom to start on the tea in the kitchen. "They fucked while they were with us. And they're going to fuck after they're with us."

"There is no after, Patrick." He snapped. "Ryan is my soulmate. I don't want an after him."

"Brendon, he cheated on you."

"I love him." He flipped the faucet on. Filling the teapot in his hand with water. "He loves me." It was flipped off. "It took me so long to find somebody to actually love me." He slammed it down on the stove. I was surprised by its resistance. That much force should have broken it. "I fucked so many men searching for it." The knob to the stove was twisted just as roughly. He'd better not break my fucking stove. It was new. "I even fucked a girl looking for the kind of love Ryan helped me experience." He spun to face me again. Leaning on the edge of the stove. That's unsafe. "No one else will love me." He admitted pathetically.

What kind of nonsense was that? Brendon was a great guy. Smart, funny, attractive, well employed. A full catch. Anybody would be lucky to have him. Where'd this sudden drop in self esteem come from?

"I love you, Bren." He needed to understand that he was loved. Wanted. He didn't have to cling onto Ryan for that purpose.

"Shut up, Patrick." He pushed off the stove at the same time I stepped towards him. Making it easier for me to pull him into the kiss. "Move." He pushed me harder than I was expecting him to and I stumbled against the island. "You're just drunk."

It didn't put me off in the slightest. I slid back into his space. Resting my hands on him. Digging my fingers into the skin exposed from his shirt riding up.

"I wasn't drunk before was I?" This time the kiss came slower. Giving him a chance to back away from it. He didn't. Brendon bowed to his head towards mine. Deepening it instead.

"I-this is so fucked." He spoke against my mouth. "We did this before and it fucked us over. Why are we doing it again?"

"Because we like it." My lips disconnected from his. Only to meet the skin of his neck. "Because it's only fair."

He strained his neck to the right. Giving me easier access to his collarbone.

"So this is like payback then?"

"This is payback."

And then his energy shifted. Brendon grabbed a hold of my hips. I bounced to the tips of toes to help him lift me onto the marble surface. Without wasting time with the button or zipper, he began tugging my pants down. My hands rested on his shoulders so I could lift my ass as he yanked the jeans to my ankles.

His fingers dug into my thighs. Pulling me to the very edge of the marble counter. "Don't move." His breath washed over my face.

There was a steady, determined look in his eyes. I watched his pupils dilate to the point where his irises were barely visible. My heart slammed against my rib cage. I nodded. He disappeared from the kitchen. Leaving me naked on the cold ass surface of the island. But he was back in seconds. Flaunting my own bottle of lube in his hands.

I didn't question how he knew were to find it so quickly. I merely watched in heated anticipation as he flicked the top open. Squeezing an excessive amount into his hands. His hand lowered so my eyes followed his fingers until they slipped down to my backside. No longer visible.

I didn't have time to revel in the sensation my best friend's fingers were giving me before he was pushed completely into me. No foreplay. No warning.

My nails dug into the back of Brendon's shirt. Yanking him closer to my body. Slamming our chests together. Thankfully he didn't move right away. Giving my body time to adjust to him. It'd been too long. I almost forgot what sex felt like.

I knew he could feel the way my chest was rising and falling. Too hard. Too rapidly against his own. Brendon's own heavy breathing filled my ear. My fingers loosened on his shirt. Giving him permission to move again. Thankfully, he understood.

So slowly it was maddening, he began sliding out. Our moans slipped our lips at the same time. In the same key. It was almost music.

I let my head drop to his shoulder. My nose pressed against the sweat that was already starting to form on his neck. He palmed my ass in his hands. There wasn't even enough room for air to come between us.

Every trust of his hips was rewarded with a different sound from my lips. My brain wasn't working anymore. The kitchen was crowded with sounds of our skin meeting. Sounds of us moaning. Sounds of me trying to remember how to breathe.

A euphoric tensity was growing inside of me. I squeezed my eyelids together. My fingers scratching at Brendon's back again. Harder than before. I wanted to rip his shirt off. But he was clearly too in his own space to let the pain bother him.

And then he was gone. He was no longer inside of me. The warmth of his body no longer surrounding me. I stayed how I was, frozen in shock.

Until I heard the yelling.

My eyes opened in panic. For a fleeting moment my vision was as blurred as my mind. Two Figures dance in front of me.

Brendon.

And Ryan!

Everything was suddenly clearer. Ryan was the one yelling. My eyes were the size of the moon when Ryan's fist connected with Brendon's face. And then Brendon is yelling. But Brendon wasn't going down without a fight. He swung back. Hitting Ryan in the mouth. They took turn swinging at each other. Neither of them wanting to back down first. It made me wonder if this was a common occurrence between the two.

Ryan clearly had the advantage. Because with his final hit, Brendon was on the floor. Finally, my body decided to jumped into action. I hopped off the counter. Almost tripping due to the way my pants were.

I half expected Ryan to tower over Brendon and keep up his assault. But he didn't. He stepped back and let Brendon stand up. Evening the playing field. But my friend wasn't in the mood to fight anymore. He ran out of the kitchen.

Leaving me alone in the kitchen with his angry soulmate. He stepped towards me. But the move wasn't malicious. There was a hurt look on his face. Like he was disappointed in me. Like he expected more from me. Like I should give a fuck how he feels about what just happened. Payback is a bitch. I made my own karma.

The thought strangely made me feel better. I smiled to myself. No, I laugh. And that chuckle was clearly the last straw for Ryan. He decked me in the nose. Pain shot down my face.