Archaic ||Peterick||

The Worst Thing About Patrick

Pete couldn't believe this. He just had a near death experience and Patrick had made him sleep on the floor. It was his 'punishment'. His punishment for scaring Patrick. As if that selfish bitch had feelings for anyone except himself.

He curled up into a ball and flexed his hands, regretting the action immediately. The bones cracked, and the skin was still tight from being pricked and pulled and burned away by the sun. His fingerprints no longer existed. He could hear Patrick's even, steady breathing from above the bed. He'd been asleep for hours, not having it in him to yell for too long. Oh, how he'd love to make that sleep last a little longer. Interrupt those steady breaths, make them gasp, and have his eyes snap open, wide and scared. Bite him, and never have him wake again. Bury his body in an unmarked grave in the forest. He knew he couldn't though. He could never.

Pete tossed and turned again, trying to get comfortable on the ratty blanket. He closed his eyes in another futile attempt to get some sleep. His eyes shot back open with a sharp intake of breath.

Whenever he closed his eyes he could see the body. Pete had killed many people but he had never saw them dead. He always drained them and looked away.

The only corpse he had seen was Ashlee's. That was the last thing he wanted to relive. He glanced at his phone, Ashlee had called him. It didn't make any sense to him. None of it did. Her calling, Patrick knowing it was her anniversary, nothing added up.

He sighed softly.

"Patrick?" He whispered to deaf ears.

"Pat?" He tried again.

"'Trick?" He slowly sat up so he could see Patrick.

"'Tricky?" He climbed closer to Patrick's frame, turned to face the other wall.

"Lunchbox?" He crawled onto the bed.

Patrick grunted in reply, not happy to be woken.

"Are you awake?"

Patrick turned to glare at him.

"I wasn't."

"Can I have the bed?"

"Pete, I will throw you out the window and into the sunlight."

Pete looked scared for a moment but shook his head.

"I'll share."

"I won't. Back on the floor you go," Patrick gently pushed Pete's arm, hoping to god he'd just listen and give up.

Pete did the exact opposite. He scrabbled under the covers and propped his head on his hand.

"Hi."

"Go away." Patrick turned his back to him.

Patrick had almost fallen back asleep when Pete spoke.

"I ate today.."

"Would you like a fucking medal?"

Pete ignored Patrick's comment and continued talking.

"It was already dead.." he sounded deflated, nothing like his usual hyperactive self.

"That must've been handy. They're always asleep for you. Or dead. You really strike me as the kind of person who's never done a days work in your life or your afterlife."

"I'm serious, Patrick." Pete whispered.

"And so am I. You're sad because you ate from one body. Big fucking deal. Do you want to know how many times I've dealt with that kind of thing? Do you know how many times I've dealt with tragedy and death in general? No, and you don't fucking want to. Now get back on the floor and let me sleep." Patrick snapped.