Can't You Save Me?

•11•

The second they're back at Pete's place, Pete quickly heads to his room, almost sprinting there to avoid the intruder in Patrick's body from scaring him any further. He shuts and locks the door behind him, keeping his gun close.

The car ride back was uncomfortable. Pete's skin had lost its color and was sweating bullets, gripping the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles turned white. He'd never been more terrified of any person ever in his life.

Vaughn sat in the passenger seat while Pete drove, silent and continuously gazing at the side of Pete's head. He knows this because he could feel the heat of Vaughn's piercing eyes on him. Pete didn't know what to do, he'd left his gun at home and his spare is in the glove compartment, so he simply keeps his eyes forward and focuses on the road. He was too terrified to even glance in Vaughn's direction. Then he breaks the silence by asking, "What's the matter?" his voice cutting smoothly through the tension filled air like butter. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Pete could hear the smirk in his voice before Vaughn chuckled deeply, and Pete definitely didn't find anything funny. But he was able to breath a quick sigh of relief when his apartment building came into view.

Vaughn had passed out on the couch, Pete realized, when he warily emerged from his room ten minutes later to check on him. He had his gun in hand behind his back. Pete wasn't going to take any chances.

He was lying on his stomach, his right arm hanging off the couch while his head was resting on the left one squishing his cheek and making his mouth slightly ajar. Vaughn even removed his glasses which were folded neatly on the coffee table, but was still fully clothed otherwise. Usually Patrick slept this way; sprawled all over the couch and quiet snores escaping his body. It allowed Pete to let his guard down but only a little. He still wasn't sure how safe he was or will be whenever the boy wakes up.

Pete silently walks back to his bedroom. It's still early, around nine o'clock or so but he doesn't fall asleep. He just lies in his room thinking of a way to fix this without throwing Patrick's life away.

He eventually dozes off an hour later. He probably won't get any sleep later tonight but that's nothing new.

***

Patrick wakes up at eleven a.m.. He's still desperately tired but can't find it in himself to go back to sleep. Then he hears whispering and tries his best to ignore it, hoping that it's just noise from the TV in Pete's room. He sluggishly pulls himself off the couch and wanders off to the bathroom with a full bladder. After he relieves himself, he flushes then goes to wash his hands. But he hears a voice clear as day and this time it doesn't sound like it's coming from inside Patrick's head like normal. The voice is coming from inside the bathroom. He spins around and inspects the space but finds nothing so he brushes it off.

Just as he's about to leave he hears the same voice say his name. He does a one-eighty and spots the mirror above the sink, staring at his reflection nervously. It was...smiling devilishly at him.

"What the fuck?" He mutters to himself. If he wasn't entirely awake before then he was now.

He moves around to see if his reflection would mimic but it doesn't. It just stands and watches Patrick with a smirk.

"I missed you Patrick." His reflection drawls. "We haven't had a meeting in quite some time."

"I'd like to keep it that way." Patrick retorts.

"I'm sure. But you and I both know that's not going to happen."

Patrick glares silently at the mirror, his heart picking up speed against his will. He has to fight back, just like Pete told him. He can't win if he doesn't fight back.

"I spoke to your friend today. Peter. We had a nice little chat-"

"How did you-"

"Don't interrupt me!" Vaughn snaps loudly then his tone becomes calm and smooth once more. "You know what I think? I think Peter would look so much better splattered in red paint. What do you think?"

"No, you can't," Patrick whispers then finds his voice. "Leave him out of this."

Vaughn barks out a deep, irritating laugh. "You want to save his life, hm? That's fine, I admire that, but you can't. You know this. You've thought about suicide but you won't go through with it because I know you. I am you. You can barely save yourself let alone save someone else."

Patrick swallows the lump in his throat. "That's not true."

Vaughn scoffs. "Right. Poor Patrick doesn't want Peter's blood on his hands." Then his face turns to a scowl and he slams his palms against the mirror, causing Patrick to leap back. "I'll skin him alive if you don't listen up."