Everything ends

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Patrick was nervous. He was so nervous he'd managed to trip over his own feet. Luckily he did not fall, but that did nothing to alleviate the knot in his stomach. He still felt ready to pass out any second. But no one could blame him. He was about to do something big, something he'd never pictured doing, at least not in the last eight years.

It had been a year and a few months since he, Charlie and Ariel moved to Sydney. Things had gone great for a period. Then they'd started fluctuating.

Charlie was on a higher dose of Tetrabenazine. His chorea was less frequent and not debilitating, and the side effects were minimal. Not the same could be said about his cognitive functions. His ability to pay attention was progressively impaired and so was his short-term memory. He was increasingly forgetful. Patrick also noticed that his anxiety and irritability were becoming more frequent. He was clearly moving into a different stage of the disease.

It was what convinced Patrick he had to do the one thing that was wrecking up his nerves at that moment. He knew it was early for it, but Charlie was different. He couldn't wait, not when even he could see that Charlie didn't have a typical Huntington's disease. He'd started exhibiting symptoms earlier than was expected and he was deteriorating faster. It may not have qualified as juvenile Huntington's disease, but it was progressing like it.

There was no other time to do this than the present.

Patrick packed the last of the roses in the basket in front of him. He was at the house he shared with Charlie and Ariel. The basket was too full he couldn't close it. Maybe he'd bought too many roses, but that didn't matter. It was better to have more than too little. He wanted the evening to be perfect.

It occurred to him that Charlie probably wouldn't care about the roses, but Patrick couldn't take that chance. Without the roses all he had was his words, and maybe they wouldn't be enough. He needed something to sweeten the deal.

He looked at the watch on his wrist just as the door opened. Ariel walked in carrying her satchel. She dropped it on the couch in front of her. Ariel was a student at the University of Sydney, studying psychology. Even though Patrick thought it was best if she moved into an apartment closer to campus, she insisted on staying at home. Even she could see that Charlie was getting worse. Patrick bought her a car to help with the daily commute.

"Just on time," Patrick said with a smile. Ariel was a three minutes late, but he wasn't going to point that out. As long as she was there before Charlie, it was no problem.

"Are you ready?" Ariel asked. There was glee in her voice.

"I'm so nervous I'm about to sweat through my clothes," Patrick said and scratched his head, coming in contact with his jet black hair. "But I'm ready. I'm about to go down to the beach."

"Do you need help? I could..." Ariel was about to offer her help but Patrick stopped her.

"You have to be here when he gets here, remember? I'll call you when I'm done setting up. Call me when he gets here," he said.

Ariel nodded and walked over to Patrick. She fixed his bowtie and brushed his hair backwards with her fingers.

"Good luck," she said.

Patrick took the moment to pull his bowtie back to where it was with shaky fingers. He was reminded that today he looked different. He'd traded his well-cut pants and shirts for a full tailored black suit, accessorizing with a bow tie. Now that he was made aware of what he was wearing, he felt silly.

"You don't think it's too much? The suit," he said.

Ariel smiled and fixed his bowtie again. "If you keep messing with your bowtie it'll be too much, but right now you look amazing. He'll definitely fall in love all over again."

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