Patrick Hockstetter: Imagines/Oneshots

You're Mine

     It would never cease to baffle the town of Derry as to why a girl like Rori Callow would ever want to associate with the likes of Patrick Hockstetter. Even his mother was bewildered as to why any young woman such as herself would want to spend time with her son. She was pretty, intelligent, and not to mention friendly to everyone she came across. Hell, her friendliness was what got her wrapped up with Patrick in the first place.
    Even back in the second grade, everyone knew Patrick was a freak. Which was why when Valentine's Day rolled around, no one bothered to get him a card-with the exception of Rori. Little Patrick watched with a blank face as other children exchanged little heart shaped papers, while his box still remained empty. Though he didn't care much for the acceptance of others, he would be lying if he didn't feel rejected and discouraged . How dare they ignore a god like himself? That was until a seven year-old girl strolled up to the boy and placed a piece of paper in his container. She looked at him with a sweet smile as he plucked it out and examined it further. To his delight, it wasn't in the shape of a generic heart, but a dog, decorated in brown crayon with its eyes marked over by two x's, and red paint splattered in various areas. 'Because I know you like dead things,' he remembered her saying with an endearing voice. He repaid her several days later by leaving a dead squirrel on her doorstep, a note scribbled with 'you're mine' stapled to the corpse. Ever since then, the two had been inseparable.

                                      ***
     Patrick Hockstetter was by no means a compassionate person. However, he was noticeably kinder to his girlfriend- which always amazed those nearby. Though he was nicer to the girl than others, this wasn't saying much.
     "C'mon Rori, hurry your ass up, we're gonna lose him!" Patrick called from ahead.
    Currently, they were chasing after the Tozier boy, much to her displeasure. She was wheezing and coughing, meters behind the others. Usually, she would be able to keep up with Patrick and his friends (and normally attempt to help the poor soul being tormented by the Bower's gang). But this time, her lungs felt like they were made of fire  and her vision was dotted with black spots. She had been coughing for a couple of weeks now, but both Patrick and her had brushed it off as a cold. Now Rori wasn't so sure; was it bronchitis, maybe?
     The girl doubled over as she couldn't run any longer and a coughing fit racked her body. Patrick and the other's jogged over to the girl, seeing as they had lost Tozier.
     "See what you're fucking girlfriend did? We would've gotten him if  we hadn't kept slowing down for her fat ass," Henry spat bitterly. Patrick rolled his eyes, Rori wasn't fat. In fact, she had been loosing quite a bit of weight recently. He wasn't sure if he should be worried or not. Girls were always attempting to shed a couple of pounds...but that was the thing, she wasn't intentionally trying.
      "Yeah, what the hell is the matter with you, Rori. Is it that stupid cold?" Her boyfriend asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.
      Rori didn't answer him, instead, she continued coughing until her face turned red. This actually made Patrick's face contort into something one could describe as worry.
     "Can't you fucking breathe?! What the fuck!" He snapped at the girl. Though his words were rough, his features glazed over with concern.
He waltzed over to her, pulling Rori up so she was now standing straight. He held on tightly to her elbow as she continued hacking into her hand. Once the coughing died down, she pulled away from her hand, a string of spit and blood fallowing her lips.
"What the shit, is she coughing up blood?!" Belch pointed out.
Patrick's jaw clenched as his stomach churned. He didn't like caring for others, especially when it made him feel like this. The raven haired boy harshly gripped Rori's wrist, turning her arm so he could now see the blood that pooled in her fist. His veins ran cold.
"P-Patrick? I-I don't....I..." She began to say, but her eyes lolled into the back of her head as she slumped forward. The tall boy caught her and stared at the girl with wide-eyes.
"What the fuck! What the fuck is wrong with her?!" Patrick screamed, sinking to the ground with Rori's limp body. He shook the girl violently, not sure what to do.
"Wake the fuck up, Rori!" Patrick ordered, frantic. His nostrils flared and his heart hammered into his rib cage. Before then, the Hockstetter boy had thought he was fearless, but terror ripped through his mind at the thought of loosing her.
He would admit, he had taken Rori for granted. Hell, he often used her kindness to an advantage, constantly guilting her into doing things for him. He couldn't count the numerous times she would be bandaging herself up after a rough night of sex, still smiling at him through the tears. He was a sadist, and she knew that. For once Patrick tried to imagine how she had felt, dealing with the manipulation and pain, only to try and reason as to why she had even put up with him for all these years.
Now here he was, cradling the body of a girl he tried to deny he felt anything for. He looked up at his friends with a dangerous glint in his eyes.
"Why the fuck are you just standing there?! Go get fucking help!" Patrick bellowed at them. The boy's' eyes widened, all three scurrying off, even Henry.
A few minutes passed and he could hear sirens wailing in the distance. He brushed Rori's hair from her deathly pale face with shaky fingers, and wiped a trickle of blood from her mouth.
"You can't die, Rori, you got that? I won't fucking let you die. You're mine, remember that," Patrick hissed quietly, his voice wavering. He  gripped the girl tighter as the ambulance pulled up, two medics rushing out.
They wheeled the stretcher up to the pair, and it pained Patrick when they peeled the girl from his grasp; he didn't want to let her go. He trailed behind as they whisked Rori into the back of the van. He was prepared to climb in when one of the medics put a hand on his chest.
"Sorry, son, you can't come with," the man said, hopping up into the vehicle.
Patrick's face turned dark, he was about to object when the door was slammed in his face, the ambulance speeding away.
***
Despite the traffic violations, Patrick ordered Belch to drive fifteen miles over the speed limit. The car weaving its way past other vehicles.
"Jeeze, you couldn't have picked a healthy one? What was wrong with her?" Henry mumbled as the Trans Am took a sharp left, sending everyone jerking to the side.
"Shut up," Patrick hissed through clenched teeth. He would've probably punched him, if not for the distracting thoughts of Rori flooding his brain.
When they finally pulled up to the hospital, Patrick didn't even wait for the car to slow down before he was jumping out. With a chorus of objections behind him, the boy ran into the building.
       Patrick burst into the lobby, slamming his hands onto the front desk, "Where is she!" He snarled  to the woman behind the table, as if she knew who he was talking about.
"Excuse me?" The woman blinked.
"A girl. She probably just came in with an ambulance? She's unconscious," He explained hurriedly. "Where is she?" He demanded.
The women stared at him for a second, the boy's hostile aura distracting her. She quickly whipped over to a large binder, flipping a few pages. She gulped, meeting the unwavering gaze of the tall teen.
"There's a girl up in room 222 that just came in a few minutes ago, but she was conscious..." the woman said, looking up from the page.
"Rori Callow?" He asked.
She looked back down, "Yes, but you can't go in at the mome-"
Before she could finish, Patrick took off down the corridor towards the elevators.
      It took him a good thirty minutes before he finally found the room number, but before he could even reach the handle, a man dressed in white had opened the door and was blocking the entrance.
    Patrick moved to go past the man, but once again, he was met with a hand on his chest.
    "Woah there, son. Where do you think you're going?" He questioned.
     "I'm not your son, and where the fuck do you think?" The teen went to duck under the doctor's arm, but he had the audacity to grab his elbow.
     "You cant do that, I'm afraid," the older male stated.
     "You know I'm getting real sick and tired of all you fucking pricks telling me what I can and can't do," he growled. "I just want to see my damn girlfriend, because she was coughing up fucking blood on the sidewalk earlier, so is that okay with you, doc?"he mocked.
    The doctor looked taken back for a moment, then his face softened.
     "She's your girlfriend?" He asked.
   "No, I'm her fucking father," he spat sarcastically.
    "Look, I...I can't let you in there- family only, but I will tell you what's wrong with her," he whispered gently, placing a hand on Patrick's shoulder.
     The teen shoved his hand off and glared at the man.
    "She has lung cancer," The doctor said, ripping the band aid off. The anger on Patrick's face melted off and was replaced with complete dismay. This emotion was gone as quickly as it appeared, rage taking over once more.
"What?"He hissed, his voice wavering in what one would assume was indignation, but if you listened closely, you could hear the sorrow slipping through.
"But she's gonna be fine, right? You're gonna help her?" Patrick questioned, his jaw clenching.
"Kid I'm not sure. To be honest, we caught it late, and all treatments for the stage she's in are all pretty much experimental, and very expensive..." the doctor said, scratching the back of his neck. "We've already talked to her parents, and to be frank, they don't seem too keen on paying for any treatment. They're not even showing up until tomo-"
Patrick snapped. He lunged at the man and seized him by the collar, shoving him into a wall.
"I don't care, you're going to fucking fix her!" He screeched into the doctor's face.
In that moment, two security guards yanked the teen from the professional, dragging him out of the building. The man didn't look angry or even irritated at the boy, but apologetic. He had witnessed all types of grieving, and lashing out was one of them.
***
It didn't matter how many guards they posted outside the building to keep Patrick Hockstetter out: if he wanted in, he would be getting in. Despite the boy's low academic grades (this was due to his apathetic attitude towards school), he was highly intelligent. So naturally, he memorized the basic layout of the hospital and figured out which window was Rori's. Unfortunately, her room was on the second floor; however, there was a shorter part of the building attached to the side her room was on. So, Patrick found a dumpster that was tall enough and managed to shimmy his way onto the first floor building and made his way to the bottom of her window.
He threw some pebbles he had gathered before hand up to the glass, one by one. Eventually, the window slid open, and Rori's head popped out. Initially, she looked confused, but once she saw his face her features lit up.
"Where art thou, Romeo?" She teased with a smile. God, how he missed her stupid fucking smile.
"You gonna help me climb up, or are you just gonna stand there quoting dead people like an idiot?" He gave a lop-sided smile.
The girl gave one more smirk before she ducked back into her room. Shortly after, she came back with the end of what looked like two bed sheets tied together. Once she attached one end to the foot post of the bed, she tossed the other end out the window.
After ten minutes of what seemed like pure struggle, Patrick was finally able to wrestle his way up to the window and pull himself in, falling to the floor in the process. He scurried up, and took in the ill appearance of his girlfriend. Being so close to her, he could now see the breathing tubes around her ears that led to her nose, and were coming from a large metal canister. There was also multiple wires that were hooked into her wrists. His smile fell, Patrick didn't like this one bit.
"What is all this shit?" He said, attempting to take out her breathing tubes, but she dodged his hands.
"They help me breathe; I need them," she explained.
"No, you don't," he stated, reaching for her again, but she lightly swatted his hands away.
"Yes, I do. The doctor told me he told you. I have lung cancer, Patrick, I need them," she responded calmly.
"Bullshit!" He growled. "You can breathe, you're fine."
He lunged at her and was finally able to rip the tubes from her nostrils. She just stared at him stoically and blinked.
"I'm dying, Patrick," she said slowly.
Patrick looked at her, void of emotion. He dropped the tubes and looked away, not meeting her gaze. He was in denial, anybody with a brain could figure that out; and to some sick extent, this pleased Rori. Denial meant he was in some way grieving, which meant he cared for her, at least a little. Sometimes she wasn't so sure if Patrick even had feelings, but this confirmed it.
"You know where to find me when you stop making up stupid ass stories," he snapped, heading towards the window in a rush. She tried to stop him, but he shrugged her off, departing down their make- shift rope.
"Patrick!" She called, swallowing her tears; she didn't want him to go. "Patrick!" She screeched.
He halted, and slowly twisted around to face her from below.
"I...I love you," She croaked out for the first time in the eight years they had known each other.
"Yeah," He said, looking at her with empty eyes, "I know."
And with that, he left. Hopping off the first story building and onto the dumpster.
Rori watched him go, salty water gushing from her eyes. She knew he'd be back, he just needed time; but Rori didn't know how much time she had left. She turned from the window, deciding to leave the bed sheets for when her Romeo would return.
***
Four days later, Patrick Hockstetter would venture back to her window. Once again, tapping on the glass with a few rocks, but he would get no response. Figuring she was angry,he'd try calling up a few jokes to her: "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair," or "let me in, little piggy, or I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll fucking break the widow," or the classic, "I swear to God, Rori, if you don't let me in right now,". He would then travel in to the hospital, sneaking into room 222 successfully this time, only to be met with an empty bed. He would find the same doctor as last time, demanding to know where the hell he had put his girlfriend, to which the man would then break the news to him. The news that just a day earlier, Rori Callow had died in that room, choking on her own blood. Patrick Hockstetter would then punch the doctor, over and over again, claiming he was lying to him. The boy would only accept the truth until the day of her funeral, stony faced and silent; instead of grieving, he would glare at the parents that didn't even bother to attempt to help their child when she needed it most. It would be until a week later, when his knuckles were busted and bleeding from punching his wall so many times, that he shed any tears for the love that he lost; the only girl- or person, for that matter that accepted him and adored him completely, willing to deal with his psychotic bullshit. This was the first time he cried since he was an infant. Patrick would be riddled with guilt and sorrow until the day he met his own demise, in the very own sewers of Derry. Though, death would honestly be a release from the pain of loosing the one person he actually came to terms with loving.