The Memory of Fate (Book 4)

1. Daily Distractions

Patrick

The only sound in the room was skin slapping against skin as I pounded into him. Every once in a while he would let out a soft moan, muffled only because his face was pressed into my pillow. He was so tight around me - one of the best fucks I've had in a while.

I felt myself ready to burst, so I pulled out of the twink and ripped off the condom. Within seconds, I had sprayed all over his back with a satisfied groan. I almost wished I had lasted longer.

He sat up, looking at me with green eyes. Damn. I hadn't noticed the color at the bar. Why did they have have to look so much like Shawn's?

He opened his mouth to say something, but I turned away from him, finding my pants on the floor and pulling them on. That gave him the hint that I wasn't about to let him stay the night. I wasn't a cuddler, that just wasn't me. I needed him out of here.

Neither of us said anything as we got dressed. I sat down on the edge of my bed, waiting for him to find his shoes. He barely looked older than eighteen, but he was drinking at the bar when I had found him earlier, so I guess he must be at least twenty-one. As long as he wasn't still seventeen, then I didn't care how old he was.

"Thanks, Pat," he said with a small smile. I don't know how he knew my name. I didn't even know his. "See ya around."

I just nodded and he left, climbing up the stairs to my own entrance to the basement. I was lucky I didn't need to usher my conquests through my parents' house, although I'm sure they knew anyway, even if they've never said anything about it.

Once the twink was gone, I turned on the TV. Sure, it might have been the early hours of the morning, but I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep anytime soon. This is the same thing that happened nearly every night. I'd go out to the bar or scroll through my hook up apps, find some kid to bring here and fuck, then spend the rest of the night watching some stupid movies on the TV until I fell asleep sometime around four or five. My therapist said it was insomnia, but I haven't been to see her in years, so who knows if that's still the case. I didn't know anything about it.

Honestly, I didn't know a lot about most things. I had plans to be so successful in life, but they all fell through years ago, when I hit rock bottom. I didn't like thinking about that time.

I didn't end up falling asleep until the sun was starting to peak through the small windows high up on my walls. Normally I don't stay up to that point, but my mind kept going back to Shawn all night. I thought I had moved on from him years ago. God knows he did. Maybe it was the twink's eyes. They looked so much like his.

A knock on my door woke me up. "Patrick, honey?" Mom called to me. "Are you hungry? I made breakfast."

I rubbed at my eyes, slowly sitting up. I cleared my throat before calling back, "I'll be right there."

Pushing off my blanket, I lowered my feet to the cold hardwood floor. My head was pounding, either from lack of sleep or having drank too much last night. I didn't think I drank too much, but I stopped keeping track of my drinks years ago.

Ten minutes later, I was shuffling my way up the stairs and into the main part of the house. As soon as I was through the door, the smell of pancakes and bacon hit me. My stomach growled.

I followed the smell to the kitchen, where Mom was sitting at the table, a book in hand as she absentmindedly stirred her tea with a spoon. She looked up with a smile up when I walked in.

"Good morning," she said.

For the first time, I noticed how old she looked. Her hair was practically entirely gray. There was a ton of wrinkles around her eyes. And she just looked downright tired. I knew she had been thinking about retirement recently. I didn't know what she was waiting for.

"Morning," I muttered, taking a seat opposite her. "Thanks."

She placed a bookmark into her book and set it aside. I half expected her to say something, but neither of us said a word throughout breakfast. She kept looking up at me, though, almost like she wanted to say something to me. I couldn't imagine what she could be having so much trouble getting out.

Eventually, she spoke. "Patrick, honey. I've been talking to your father recently. We both agreed that you might benefit from getting a job."

I dropped my fork and stared at her. "What?"

"It's just..." she sighed, lowering her eyes to her plate. Then she took a deep breath before looking at me again. "Pat, you're twenty-five years old. Isn't it time you become your own independent man? Not that I don't love having you here all the time, but I think a job could help you."

"Help?" I shook my head. "There's nothing wrong. I don't need help anymore, Mom. I'm fine."

Her eyes narrowed and the corners of her mouth dropped into a frown. "Really? Do you call staying inside all day, every day, until you go out at night to find random boys to have sex with fine?"

I stood up. "At least I'm still alive, right?"

Pushing back my chair, I stormed out of the kitchen and back down the stairs before she could respond. I knew it was a low blow, bringing that up. I knew how devastated she was when I nearly took my own life seven years ago. No one was more relieved than her that I didn't get to go through with it.

Sometimes I wish I had succeeded that day.

A/N: Hello! Welcome to book 4 of my Fate series! If you haven't read the other three, don't worry, they don't have anything in them that's 100% necessary in order to understand this book. I do recommend reading them, though.