Hubris 4: Patrick

Patrick

Note: This story is a side piece to my Nemesis trilogy. It takes place after Chapter Twelve of Loud Like Love. I highly recommend reading that first, or parts of this story may not make much sense, and it also spoils events that take place in the novels.

————————

Patrick was glad, when he returned to his room, that his roommate had gone home for the weekend. He sat down on his bed, and then he was crying, burying his face in his hands. They weren't enough to muffle his sobs, so instead he lay down on his stomach on the bed. The pillow did a much better job than his hands.

He hadn't fallen in love with Dave, not quite. But he had really, really liked him. And he had loved his body. His soft, golden skin. His heartbeat, calm when they were just kissing but rapid when they were pressed together, whether naked or not. The scent of his blonde hair, and the taste of his lips. And the feel of his cock in Patrick's hand, in his mouth. In him. He had never imagined that he would love it so much.

And then he was angry. Angry with Dave for stringing him along, even if Dave hadn't known that he was doing it. Even though Patrick had told him that he was okay with being his rebound. He was angrier still with Nick, whom he had never even met, had only briefly seen in that club. He was angry with him because Dave loved him. Angry because he had hurt Dave in the first place. Ruined him so Patrick couldn't truly have him.

The anger subsided quickly enough, though. Because he had known from the start, really, that Dave wasn't over his ex. Had known that this would inevitably end, even when Dave had asked him to be his boyfriend. He had known that Dave would never really be his. It softened the blow some. He couldn't pretend he wasn't upset, but he could count himself lucky that he had been granted this time with Dave. Not only had he turned out to be extremely hot, and fantastic in bed, but he had been kind. So kind. Even just now, when he had broken up with Patrick, had he been kind. Held his hand. Granted him one last kiss when Patrick had asked. He almost regretted it. Almost, but not really. It had been a good ending.

There was one thing Dave had given him that he couldn't take back. He had taught Patrick to accept himself. He had given him the courage to try. To come out. To own up to the truth, his truth. And for that, Patrick would always be grateful.

Suddenly and unexpectedly, the door opened. Patrick sat up quickly, tried to wipe the tears from his face. Ali didn't usually return until evening, and it was only two in the afternoon. Patrick sniffed, hoped he looked normal. 'Hey,' he said, smiling. 'You're back early.'

Ali sighed and put his bag down on his bed. 'Yeah. It was . . . Yeah.' He looked up at Patrick and frowned. 'You okay?'

Patrick shrugged. 'Yeah. Just, been sick, you know. I mean I'm better, but . . .'

Ali cocked his head to one side. 'Were you crying?'

Patrick looked away, worked his jaw. He hadn't wanted anyone to see him like this. But then, Ali would find out eventually anyway, so he let out a slow breath and said, 'Dave and I broke up.'

Ali was silent for a while. Patrick looked at him again, and found sympathetic honey brown eyes looking back at him. 'What happened?' Ali asked.

'What I always knew would happen.' Patrick leaned back against the wall. 'He realised he was still hung up on his ex. I went for it anyway, so it's not even his fault, not really.'

Ali nodded slowly. 'I'm sorry. I know you . . . I mean, you cared about him.'

Patrick really hadn't thought Ali would be as okay with his coming out as he had been. His family were Muslim, which didn't necessarily mean they were homophobes, but it was reasonably likely. Not because they were Muslim specifically, but because they were religious, and Patrick knew a thing or two about that. But when Patrick had come out to him, because coming out to your roommate is kind of a necessity when you have an actual boyfriend who may drop by at some point, Ali had just shrugged and said, 'Okay.' And that had been it.