Hedonism - Part Two

[alfirin-kirinki.livejournal.com]

They got a taxi from the airport in LA. As selfish as it was, they'd left Andy to fly down on his own, clinging to their last few hours of privacy, even if they were very public and very non-tactile. They didn't join the Mile High Club (Patrick claimed to already be a member; Joe refused to believe it) and they wouldn't let Pete pick them up at the terminal. Holding hands wasn't something they'd really done much of in Chicago, but perhaps because they wanted to wring the last few hours out as much as possible, they clung to each other the entire ride to the house.

Patrick was fumbling for his keys on the stoop when the door opened. Behind it, the Barbie Doll smiled and cheerily invited them in, as if Patrick didn't literally own the place. It pretty much set the tone for the next two weeks.

Joe tried not to be hurt by how bitter Patrick seemed at finding her there, but he'd nearly convinced himself that Patrick was getting over Pete and that this fucking chick would be enough for them to split without breaking up the band. He had it all planned out in a tiny corner of his mind; his Best-Case Scenario. The tiny corner shrank a little every time he saw the way Patrick looked at her.

"Is she staying?" he'd heard Patrick ask, just outside the door to the bedroom Joe usually shared with Andy. He was kind of keen to know the sleeping arrangements himself.

"You want me to send her home, kind of?" Pete's voice replied, level but deliberately challenging.

"This is my house, too."

"Yeah, and also mine."

For a long time there was silence and Joe assumed one or both of them had stormed off, but then Pete asked, "Where were you?"

"At home."

"Liar. I had my mom check on you. You weren't there."

"You checked up on me?"

"You didn't answer your cell for eight days, dude."

In the bedroom, Joe frowned. 'Is your cell vibrating, man?'

A pause to look at the screen. 'No.'

'Are you sure, 'cause Pete hasn't even – '

'No, Joe. He hasn't called, okay?'

"Where. Were. You?"

"Joe's."

"Really."

"Yes, fucking really."

"Have fun?" Pete asked coldly, and Joe could imagine the look on his face.

"More fun than I would have had in our apartment by myself while you were away with your favourite doll, Pete. Thanks for asking."

"Jesus, will you let this go?"

"You know what? No. She goes, Pete, or I'm getting a hotel room and I'm taking Joe and I'm not coming back."

There was silence, and then the squeak of Pete's Chucks on the wood floor as he walked away.

Within an hour, she was gone.

They hung out a little afterward, playing video games with a tense, 'not in front of the children' cheerfulness that made Joe wish they'd flown Andy down with them. He hated this already, knowing that a fight between Patrick and Pete was brewing and constantly afraid of forgetting not to reach for Patrick or that Pete would figure out what they'd been doing in the week they'd spent together. After two hours, before it had even hit ten thirty, he went to bed. When he woke, after four, the house was quiet and the opposite bed was empty. There was only one other place that Patrick would be. Joe curled around his pillow and tried to will himself back to sleep so he didn't have to think about it.

It was Andy who woke him next, dumping his bags on the other bed and griping to Pete that he'd been held up in the airport for an hour before they were allowed off the plane. Joe fumbled for his phone and squinted at the tiny white numbers in the corner of the screen.

"Shit – is it seriously after lunch?!" he asked, sitting up and rubbing his eye with the heel of his hand.

"Don't sweat it, dude, we didn't eat without you or whatever..." Pete assured him, giving the dog a light poke with the toe of his sneakers as he waddled into the room and jumped up on Joe's bed. "Lunchbox is out doing a thing for 'Enemies. We're gonna like, wait until he's back, kind of."

Joe just nodded and kicked back the sheets, "I'm gonna take a shower."

"Joe!"

He stopped outside the main bathroom door and turned back to Pete, who was closing the door to the guest room and following. "Yeah?"

"I'm like, sorry about last night, or whatever," Pete told him, not really sounding that sorry at all. "Patrick and me are just... we've been having a hard time, kind of, but we're going to be okay. We pretty much totally kissed and made up after you went to bed, you know what I'm saying?" Pete gave him his most shark-like grin, and bumped Joe's arm with his knuckles. Joe had a pretty good idea of exactly what Pete meant.

"Hey, dude, that's like... great. I'm pleased for you guys." He nodded jerkily and backed toward the bathroom. "I'll just go kind of like take my shower, and then... yeah." Hurriedly, he ducked out of the hall and locked the door behind him. For a few minutes he just leaned back against it, feeling as though he had a grenade in his chest and unable to really catch his breath. He really thought he might throw up.

The water running over his shoulders when he finally stepped into the frosted glass cubicle reminded him of the first morning after Patrick stayed, back home. It also reminded him of the fourth morning, when he'd followed Joe into the shower and ended up persuading him to kneel down so he could wash his hair for him. For some reason, Patrick was obsessed with Joe's curls. Joe thought it was all kind of ridiculous, but he went with it because it made Patrick smile and look at him with a sense of awe that Joe wasn't used to. He just knew he wanted more of it... but that didn't seem like it was going to happen, now.

He could hear Patrick's voice in the hall, as he towelled off, and he wasn't sure if he was glad he was back so he could talk to him or if he was afraid to see him and find out it was true.

They were all in the open plan kitchen-living room area when Joe finally worked up the nerve to head out and face everyone. Patrick was the first to look up from the dining table as he walked in; he smiled brightly as soon as Joe caught his eye, which was at least a tiny bit reassuring. Unfortunately, Andy was sitting opposite and he glanced between them as Joe sat down and then gave him a significant look.

"What'd I miss, dudes?" Joe asked, slumping down with his arms across the backs of the chairs and trying to act as normal as possible.

"Some of the boys are coming over and we're having a party, kind of."

Patrick and Andy rolled their eyes almost simultaneously.

"We're supposed to be doing band stuff," Patrick said, for what Joe suspected was not the first time in the last half hour.

"All work and no play makes Patrick a fucking killjoy, or whatever."

Patrick didn't say anything, although he clearly wanted to, he just fiddled with the corner of the tattered magazine under his hands.

It was during the party, which wasn't limited to them and their friends, but the Barbie Doll and hers, too, something none of them bar Pete seemed pleased about, that Joe finally got his answer. By one in the morning the yard was filled with people and music, as was the kitchen and living area, and while Joe was usually the first to join the fun, he really couldn't face it right then. His stomach had been churning all day and he was tired beyond words, so he retreated to his and Andy's room and shut the door, crashing on his bed but unable to sleep because of the noise.

He almost knocked his cell to the floor when it buzzed and twittered at him, telling him he had a text message.

'Patrick' flashed up on the screen; Joe flung himself onto his back and pressed 'view'.

'Where r u? This party blows.'

'Bedrm. Tired.' Joe texted back. He rolled on to his side and closed his eyes, the phone still clasped in his hand. A minute later it vibrated again, and he blinked at it.

Patrick: 'Company?'

Yeah, right, who? Joe would have laughed, but it didn't feel funny. He texted back, 'Not unless yr offering.'

'I am.'

Joe didn't have time to respond before the door was opening and Patrick slipped in, locking it behind him.

"Hey," he said softly, not even hesitating as he walked to the bed and sat down. "Are you feeling okay?" He stroked a hand up the inside of Joe's t-shirt, running his fingers over his stomach in a way that made Joe's eyes drift closed and his mouth slip open slightly.

"Hi..." he mumbled breathlessly, wondering if Patrick had been drinking – even if it was highly unlikely. The same would have been said of Pete, a few months ago.

"You've been quiet all day..." Patrick whispered, kicking off his sneakers "What's up?"

"I dunno," Joe replied, moving over so that Patrick could stretch out on the single bed beside him and reaching up to brush at his face once. "I guess I just like, heard a rumour..."

"Yeah? What's that?"

"Well, a little dude told me you've kind of 'kissed and made up' with Pete."

Patrick stared at him. "What does that mean?"

"Basically, he said sorry things were like, kind of awkward last night and that it was okay 'cause, like... you guys were 'going to be okay' and kind of implied like..." Joe shrugged. "I mean, you didn't sleep in Andy's bed last night, or anything..."

For what seemed like an eternity, Patrick just looked down at the bump his hand moving under Joe's t-shirt, before he finally with withdrew it and said, "I slept in mine and Pete's room."

"Yeah, I kind of figured, dude."

"He still says he can't do anything."

Joe knew he probably shouldn't be happy that Pete was clearly lying through his teeth to just about everybody, but it felt as though a weight had been removed from his chest. "Really?"

"Yeah," Patrick nodded, "but Joe... if he hadn't said that..."

"You would have."

"Yeah. Not to hurt you, dude – I don't ever want to do that – but... me and Pete... officially, we're still on."

Joe just nodded, eyes fixed on the ceiling. He wondered if these were the same lines Pete fed Patrick about the girls.

"I just kind of want to know if Pete and I have anything left, I guess... Because if all we have is the band, then maybe that's not enough, y'know?" Patrick shifted and propped himself on his elbows to straddle Joe's hips and look straight down at him. "Seriously, dude."

"'Seriously' what?" Joe asked, letting his hands push down the back of Patrick's jeans a little, even through his scepticism.

"I'm not screwing you around." As if to prove his point, Patrick reached down and unbuttoned his pants. "C'mon. If he finds us, he finds us."

"You locked the door..."

"Yeah, but what do you think he'd figure was going on if we locked ourselves in, in the dark, during a party, man?"

Joe shrugged and gasped a little as Patrick ducked down to suck softly at his neck, and never managed to answer.

Pete didn't find them, either.




It was in the pool, the next day, while Patrick and Pete did a phone interview upstairs, that Andy started asking questions.

"So, you and Patrick disappeared kind of early, yesterday..."

"We did?"

"Don't bullshit me, Joe, I can read you like a book."

Joe sighed and rested his head back against the edge. "We were in our room..."

"Doing what?" Andy asked, both eyebrows raised. As if he had to ask...

"Thought you could, like, read me like a book, dude."

"Joe, what have you done?" Andy asked warily, swimming a little closer.

Joe couldn't even answer and apparently Andy really could read him that well. He swept an arm through the water and soaked him, before wading right up to him and hissing, "Are you insane? In his own house?"

"It's Patrick's house, too."

"That's not the point, you idiot! I can't believe you did that, Joe, I just... you're supposed to be like a little brother to him and you slept with his partner? Are you completely suicidal, because Pete will kill you if he finds out about this!"

Joe couldn't meet Andy's eyes. He wasn't sure how to tell him that it wasn't a drunken one-off fuck at a party; that they weren't in high school any more and relationships were sometimes more complicated than that.

"Oh, Christ. Joe... Joe, you're not... Tell me you're not."

All Joe could do was float there, his hands clutching the edge, and gaze up at the blue and white sky above him while Andy drew his own conclusions.

"How long?" Andy whispered, suddenly close to his ear and glancing nervously up at the house in case Pete was listening.

"Since he came home."

"He came home?"

"Pete went on holiday with the chick, left Patrick here, so he came home and stayed with me for like, a week."

"A week? So basically since England?"

Joe gave a short laugh, "No, dude. Not since England." But God, if only...

"Joe, you have a girlfriend!"

"Not any more." It was the first time he'd admitted it out loud; even Patrick didn't know. "Marie broke up with me right before we flew out here, dude. Got sick of getting blown off and said she was calling it a day 'cause she like, needed a guy who'd at least be there when he could be, or something... I dunno. I kind of stopped listening." He didn't explain exactly why he wasn't listening, because he thought it would be a little too much information.

"Dude... this is severely not cool, you know that, right?"

Joe shrugged morosely. "It's kind of not cool knowing where he's sleeping tonight, either, dude. Seriously."

"But you're the one he's cheating with, Joe, you don't have a right to jealousy right now, you really fucking don't."

Joe sighed. "Yeah, but I can't exactly like, help that, bro."

"I can't tell you what to do, Joe, but I can tell you this is fucking dangerous and stupid and that you are the person who is going to get hurt. He isn't going to leave Pete for you." Andy waded to the steps to get out, leaving Joe where he was, shivering.



The next few days were hell. Especially the night that Joe woke up to the sound of a headboard banging against the thin walls of the house. Patrick was muffled, probably trying to be as quiet as possible, but Pete wasn't. It was very clear what was happening. Joe sat up and pulled on the clothes he'd been wearing the day before.

"Where are you going, dude?" Andy asked, propping himself up on one elbow and reaching for his glasses. It had obviously woken him too.

"Someplace where I can, like, not listen to this." Joe tucked his cell into his pocket and wriggled into his Vans.

"They've been at it a while – it'll probably stop soon."

"Thanks, man. I needed to hear that."

Joe was pretty sure he knew why this was happening tonight and he kind of hated that Patrick wouldn't even realise it. Earlier, they had been sitting on the balcony, talking; hanging out like they used to. The Barbie Doll wasn't there, it was just the four of them, like the old days. Eventually, Patrick had started to yawn and settled his head on Joe's shoulder, which was nothing new considering the fact the whole band used to sleep together in the back of a van a few years before, but Pete had visibly tensed. He made some joke about Joe deputising for him, then tugged Patrick until he shifted and leaned on Pete's own shoulder instead. He caught Joe's eye over the top of Patrick's head and kissed his boyfriend's temple deliberately.

Joe was perfectly capable of getting that message. He went to bed soon after.

"Wait, let me come with you," Andy said, shoving back the covers on his own bed and reaching for his jeans.

"I kind of like just want to be alone, right now, dude..."

"Tough. C'mon. I don't want to hear this either."

Neither of them had cars in LA, so they just walked to nowhere in particular, until they saw the sun coming up and reflecting on the ocean and stopped in a 24-hour burger joint to get an early breakfast.

Andy watched him intently as they sat in their booth by the window, stirring his coffee without ever actually drinking it. Joe was waiting for him to say something; 'I told you so', maybe, or 'You have to stop this', but he didn't really say anything for a long time.

"You want to talk or something?" Andy finally asked, twisting a slice of toast by its corner so it pirouetted slowly on his plate.

Joe shrugged. "Nothing much to say, dude."

"Really?" Andy said doubtfully. "I'm guessing Pete would have kind of a lot to say."

"Probably, dude. Probably."

Andy kept watching him.

"We're not doing this to get back at him, you know."

"I know. You couldn't be that cruel. But Pete can. When he's hurt, Joe, he's fucking vicious and he's going to be really, really fucking hurt that you, of all goddamn people, are the one who is doing this to him."

"Don't they say you can't, like, help who you fall in love with or whatever?"

"Yeah. But you can help who you sleep with, man."

Joe didn't respond for a long time, and then he finally managed, "I'm, like, hardcore in love with him, dude. I pretty much can't think of anything else, right now."

"Joe, I don't want to be hard on you about this, but you can't seriously think this is all just going to work out. Pete and Patrick... I don't think they're ever going to be able to get along without each other, and that means that in the great scheme of things, you can't fit into that. I'm sorry, man, but it's true."

Gazing down at his mutilated waffles, Joe sighed. "You're kind of like, underestimating Patrick."

"Maybe I'm not, and it's you who's overestimating him, Joe. He's never been with anyone but Pete. It's all he knows."

"Dude. All he knows is a guy who says he loves him, and then screws around right under his nose and then tells him he can't do stuff because of his medication. That's like... that's what Patrick knows."

"And you're totally different, huh?"

"Yeah. I am."

"Then do you think maybe that's why he turned to you?"

"I think that's, like, totally why."

Andy slumped back in his seat and huffed in frustration. "Can't you understand how this is bad for everyone, Joe? You're destroying your friendship with Pete, you're destroying what's left of his relationship with Patrick, you're destroying the band... And I'm not saying this to make you feel bad, because I basically just want you guys all to be happy and I don't even think that Pete deserves Patrick, but this is so much bigger than just how you feel. You have to see that."

"I do see that, dude, but I also tried to not let this happen and it didn't work. Me and Patrick we both... I mean, like... we both want this."

"Is that why we're sitting here before six in the morning and he's at home getting laid, with the boyfriend you think he's leaving for you?"

Joe felt as though he'd just been stabbed in the gut. "You know the most fucked up thing about all of this?" he asked, pushing his plate away and getting his wallet out. "I figured you'd understand."

"Understand what?"

"You know how long I felt like this about him, dude."

"Yeah, and I also know that when it all comes down to it, so does Pete."



The house was quiet when they got back. Andy said he was going to try to catch a couple more hours sleep, so Joe sat on Hemmy's couch and waited, thinking about his talk with Andy.

Patrick shuffled in half asleep sometime around seven. He sat down without saying a word, his t-shirt on inside out, and tried to curl up against Joe's side. Joe flinched, and Patrick was suddenly wide awake.

"Hey, what's up?" he asked, trying to turn Joe's face toward him. "Joe?"

"So, I guess, like, the side-effects wore off..."

Patrick swallowed a couple of times, then nodded. "Yeah. He said he skipped his pills a couple of days..."

"Right."

Patrick chewed his lip for a few moments, his fingers playing on the outer seam of Joe's jeans. "It really doesn't change anything, dude. I still want y'know... I want this."

"But you want him, too? 'Cause you might, like, be able to handle that, dude, but I can't." Joe took a slow, deep breath and the words game tumbling out. "I don't think I can do this, dude."

"What? Joe, wait, we – "

"It was bad enough, before, when none of this happened and stuff, but now, I kind of like... I just can't listen to that again, dude."

Patrick dropped his hands limply into his lap and just gazed at Joe's shoulder; "Oh."

"I think I need to, like, go and call Marie, right now." He stood up, feeling around for the phone in his pocket, but Patrick followed.

"Don't. Don't call her, Joe," he said, catching his hand and wrapping his fingers over the phone. "Please don't call her. I'll... I promise you, man, I'll stop. I won't let it happen again."

Joe laughed a little, because it seemed so goddamn ridiculous to be having this conversation at all. "What're you gonna tell him, dude? You have a headache?"

"I'll tell him what I need to. I promise." Patrick looked up at him, still holding his hand around the cell, and repeated, "I promise." He leaned forward and up, pulling Joe down to rest their heads together. "It didn't feel the same," he whispered. "I don't want it."

"Does he want it?"

"Pete? I don't know, man, I just... I don't think his heart was in it, y'know? I felt like he was doing it because he thought he had to, not because he wanted to."

"And you, dude?"

Patrick glanced carefully toward the master bedroom and slid his arms around Joe's waist, pulling them hip to hip, "I ended up thinking of you."



Refusing to sleep with Pete left Patrick in a rather difficult position – although from what Patrick told Joe, Pete didn't make much of an effort to convince him. The Barbie Doll was suddenly everywhere, all the time, sleeping in their bed, and eventually Patrick made the decision to move into the hotel across the street from their rehearsal studio. As a show of solidarity, and partly because they both hated the girl, Joe and Andy went with him. Their suite comprised two rooms of four queen-sized beds; officially, Joe and Andy shared one, so all Joe's clothes were in that room for when Pete stopped by. Every night, and despite Andy's careful warnings, Joe slept in Patrick's room. They only needed one bed.

After a few nights hanging out with them, though, Andy seemed to soften his stance. He waited until Patrick was in the bathroom and said, softly, without looking away from the TV, "It's not that I don't think you could make each other happy, dude. I just wish this wasn't fucking over Pete. Even if he kind of deserves it."

"Believe it or not, dude," Joe told him honestly, "me too."

Andy nodded and changed the subject.

Patrick's 23rd birthday was probably the worst night. Pete arranged a huge party that Patrick didn't even want, as some kind of peace offering, and invited pretty much everyone they knew. Except the Barbie Doll. He spent the entire evening lavishing him with gifts and attention and Joe spent the evening sitting in a corner with Andy, feeling the 'I told you so' radiating from him when they both watched Patrick tug Pete closer and kiss him without caring who saw. They were all friends, here, after all. Just friends.

That whole night was different. Without standing in the Barbie Doll's shadow, Patrick glowed. He laughed and smiled more than he had in months and Joe was reminded of how happy he used to be; how it was that five years had passed and he and Pete owned two houses. When things were good for them, they were awesome, and everyone could see it. Even Joe.

He left early again, that night, and went back to the hotel. At three forty-five, he received a text.

'Will make this up to u. Hope u got some sleep. XX'

Joe had a feeling he was going to get a lot more sleep than Patrick, that night. He certainly didn't see him again until lunchtime the next day, in the rehearsal studio. He and Andy were already there when Patrick walked in with Pete, bearing Starbucks and cupcakes left over from the small mountain ordered for the party.

He looked tired, as if he hadn't really slept. Pete never looked like he'd really slept, and today he looked worse. Both of them were tense and avoided touching each other, as if they'd had a fight and didn't want the others to know. Joe wasn't sure whether he felt more worried or triumphant.

"Hey, everything okay?" Andy asked, looking up from where he was warming up on his practise mat.

"Fine, dude," Pete told him, slamming Joe's drink down in front of him and giving him a very pointed look. "We're fine."

They were so 'fine', apparently, that when Patrick stepped away from his mic and pretended to adjust the tuning on his guitar instead of singing, 'he tastes like you, only sweeter', Pete put his foot through the side of the couch and stormed out.

"Patrick, what's going on?" Andy asked, getting up from behind his kit and moving over to them.

Patrick gave Joe an uncomfortable look, and addressed him instead. "He saw the text I sent you, dude. Wanted to know what I was making up to you. And how."

"What did you tell him?"

"I said maybe he should ask himself that."

"Seriously?! What did he say to that, dude?"

"Nothing. He spent the whole night on the balcony. Which, I mean, seriously: best birthday ever. Thanks, Pete. I love you, too. "



It was the day before the tour that Pete broke the news about the buses. There would be two, which was reasonably okay – they could certainly afford it, now – but it was the division that seemed strange to Joe. He was sharing with Pete, supposedly because of the dog and the smoke, and Patrick was sharing with Andy, because they didn't party. Which wasn't true. If anything, Joe expected Pete to want to share with Patrick, but then he found out the worst part of the whole arrangement: they had a guest in their bus.

He would have complained if he thought for a minute that Pete would listen.

She followed them out by air, leaving them to travel to the first show in Denver by bus. Just Joe and Pete, no chance of switching to the others until they made a rest stop, and that wasn't going to happen for a couple of hundred miles at least. It was kind of weird. Joe spent most of the time playing on his PSP and getting high. It wasn't as if he had much else to do. Pete was laying across the couch, reading and scribbling in his notebook intermittently, and it kind of took Joe by surprise when his curtain was yanked back and Pete ordered him to move over so he could get in.

Joe did what he was told and put his game on pause.

Neither of them even spoke, at first, they just sat in silence against the wall of the bunk, legs sticking out over the edge, rigid and kind of ridiculous-looking. Joe had a feeling he knew where this conversation was going. He didn't know if he liked the idea.

"So, I need to talk to you about something, kind of," Pete said, finally, chewing on a nail.

Shit. "Sure."

"So, like, you and Patrick."

"Yeah?" His heart was racing, now, not sure how to defend their actions.

"I'm like... I'm sorry he's putting all this shit on you, or whatever, 'cause I know it's my fault, but I just, like... I love him and everything, but I can't be everywhere all the time and this shit is just all falling apart, kind of. And like, it's pretty fucking obvious what he's doing, dude, which is pretty shitty and everything, 'cause like, everyone knows how you feel and stuff, so... It's pretty fucking cruel. He's only doing it because he's pissed at me..."

Joe sat very still, as Pete's theory sank in. "Like, what?"

Pete didn't seem to notice any anxiety in Joe's voice, even though it went high and shook audibly. "The cover thing. I mean... I do it because we need to, but she really kind of cares about me and I know that if I don't keep this shit up, she's going to figure out about me and him, and she's gonna blow the fucking lid off everything. And, like, I feel like I'm kind of fucking losing my control of everything and pretty soon, basically, I'm gonna lose the whole reason I keep doing this."

At a loss for anything else to do, Joe lied through his teeth. "What, Patrick? No, dude... I mean, you guys have been together forever – he knows you love him, man. Everything's gonna be cool..."

"It's not cool! I totally fucking blew it and I knew I was doing it and I swear like, when this is over – this tour – he's going to pack his shit up and finish with me, or whatever."

"You... You think you're breaking up, dude? What – I mean, like... why?"

"I made him second. To her. And I fucking know the only thing that keeps him together is that I come back to him, and that he's the most important thing, kind of, and I screwed it up... I screwed it up, Joe. That's why he's all over you, and I'm like totally sorry for that, kind of, because... well. It's not fair or whatever. You shouldn't get dragged into this, 'cause it's pretty much gotta hurt like crazy, dude."

Joe's jaw tightened. "What does?"

"Your, like... your crush on him dude. I mean, I know it's nothing serious and stuff, but you've been crushing on Patrick since you were like, sixteen, or whatever."

"No, I haven't!"

"Bullshit, dude..."

"Pete, I haven't." Not that long.

"Whatever, man. I just don't want you to like, get your heart broke or something... He shouldn't be, like, leading you on, dude, 'cause he'll never let you in his pants or whatever. He just wants the affection, kind of. And at first, like, I figured there might be..." he laughed a little, "there might be something going on, or whatever, but then I thought, 'Nah, dude, this is Patrick. And that weird little kid with the hair,' kind of. So, just, like... don't get stung, okay, little bro?"

Joe wanted to snap, 'shows what you fucking know', but he didn't. He just nodded and started to climb off his bunk.

"Where are you going, man?"

He looked around and realised the miserable truth: there wasn't actually anywhere he could go.

---

Part Three