Dad, is, of course, not going to be home. I'm glad that he has a job and all, but I hate being alone. And it's sort of ironic considering I'm not exactly the type of person to be around people often.
There's an idea in my head that I'm hesitant to try out, which is ask if I can hang at Pete's house 'till then. But as proven multiple times, it's going to end up silent and awkward, and I'll find myself wishing I were in my own bed instead, contradicting my earlier stated fears.
I'm still conflicted by the time dismissal comes by, and I have a pounding headache. Finally I give into the suggestion and grab a slip of paper and red pen, quickly scrawling my request and standing on my tiptoes to look for Pete (which doesn't really do much, since I'm a short person). I find him anyway and nervously tread past people.
His back is turned to me and I tap his shoulder. He whirls around, and my hand shakes as I hand the paper to him. The pulsing in my head increases, making it harder to push down. What the hell is causing it? I wonder with a wince.
"Okay," Pete answers, folding the slip. "Let me finish up." His attention focuses on his locker and he shoves a bunch of crumpled paper and paperback books into what little space is left before slamming it shut with finality. I wait awkwardly, trying my best to not let my gaze rest on him.
He produces his keys from his pocket. "Let's go," he urges, stepping past the students crowding the corridor. I hug myself as I squeeze through the narrow hallway, letting go of my body grasp once we've reached the Student Parking Lot.
We spot his car at the same time walk towards it in unison. He manages to beat me, though, and grins playfully as he opens the passenger door. I smirk a tiny bit and sit myself as he closes the door before sitting in the driver's seat.
"What time do I need to bring you home?" he asks, casting a brief glance at me as he reverses the vehicle. Conveniently enough, the digital time displays 3:57, so I point to the number.
Pete emits a low whistle. "That's quite a bit of time." I shrug despite him not seeing me do so and the rest of our way to his dwelling is spent in silence. My ache worsens and my head feels a bit light.
I can hardly walk to the couch by then. Pete doesn't seem to notice. "Want something to eat, drink..?"
I shake my head, which doesn't help. It feels like my brain moved with the motion. I break out into a heated sweat once Pete settles onto the chair, clutching a glass of water and sipping it.
"Hey, uh, can I ask you a question?" he inquires, and I give him a weak thumbs up. Jesus Christ, my hand is quivering.
"So I heard what happened with Bob...Is that why you were crying in the stall?"
For a moment I completely forget about the dizziness biting at upper region. He heard me...?
He averts his gaze. "I, um heard you, yes. I waited outside in the hall until, uh, you recovered. Once it was silent I took it as a cue to go in and, well, nearly crashed into you, heh. But anyways...Was it because of that incident...?
"I'm sorry," he adds quickly. "I don't mean to make things awkward, Patrick- I'm just really worried for you, and..." He trails off.
I nod hesitantly, chewing on my bottom lip. If there's anything I've learned about Pete Wentz, it's that he'll be straightforward about his questions, and then he'll hurriedly apologize afterward. At least I don't mind.
He envelopes me in a hug, which catches me off-guard. Like last time it's kind of awkward due to the fact that I'm sitting and he's standing- well, squatting. Our knees brush against each other.
The pounding in my head suddenly quickens and the world momentarily flashes. I wince, causing him to draw back- my fingers press against my temple. The elevated feeling in my head increases and I feel myself starting to lose consciousness.
"..Patrick?! Hey-!"
Pete's worried yells and his hands on my shoulder are dulled by the brightness blinding my vision and the terrible mixture of nasuea and dizziness piling up in my head. My rapid blinking slows as it feels more and more like my eyelids are being weighed down...
"..Patrick!.."
*
Pete's POV [a/n: this and the last chapter will be the ONLY chapters having Pete's POV in them.]
"...We were, uh, hugging and- and he pulled away, rubbing at his head. His complexion was pale, really pale. I tried to snap him out of it but then he passed out," I explain hurriedly to one of the health officials.
"Did you try CPR?" she asked in a gentle, calming voice.
"Ah- no. I kind of panicked, you see, and the first thing that registered in my mind was to rush him to the ER." I mentally facepalm myself; I should have tried CPR first.
"Mhm." She writes something down on the paper attached to the clipboard she holds. She looks up and offers me a kind grin. "Well, Pete Wentz, we should be hearing results from him soon. Is there anything else you should let me know?"
"He's mute."
The official frowned slightly. That irked me. "Is that a problem?"
"No, no, of course not!" she says, waving her hand dismissively. "Uh, well- Why don't you wait over there-"
She's interrupted as a doctor emerges from the room Patrick's in and whispers urgently in her ear. She nods quickly and turns to me as the doctor leaves. "He's awake, but refuses to, um, communicate."
"Let me talk to him." The words are out of my mouth before I can think. "His dad is probably at work, so I'm the second one closest to him, I guess..."
"Okay. Speaking of his father, we'll need to contact him." She pauses. "Does Patrick have his phone with him?"
"I think so." But I'm impatient to get to Patrick. I've never been so worried in my life. I mean, today was full of worry. Him crying in the restroom, thanks to that piece of shit Bob...
And now this- him fainting?
The health official notices my restlessness. "Let's go." She gently touches my arm and we head into the room, where Patrick's on one of their cots hooked up to a machine. But it's how he looks is what practically breaks my heart.
His face is distorted in what seems like pain and fear of his surroundings. It looks like he's been crying, too. His eyes, though, seem to light up as I step closer to him.
I feel uncomfortable with the doctors around me. They all take a hint and leave, but the health official stays behind. I guess there's no way to get her out of here, but whatever. I take a seat next to the bed.
He looks at me wearily. My mind suddenly goes blank. What was I even going to say to him?
"Patrick," I say, startling us both. "Uh...Do you remember what happened the last hour?" I cringe at how blunt I seem.
He nods slowly, biting his lip. We make brief eye contact before he glances away, as usual. I chew on the inside of my cheek nervously.
"Do you, uh, know what caused your, um..." I trail off, blushing at how stupid I sound. Note to self: make sure to never be asked to interrogate someone.
He purses his lips, which is enough of an answer. I press further. "Patrick...What did you do that triggered this?" I chew on the inside of my cheek, scanning his expression.
I will never admit this to anyone, but I am in love with Patrick. I've only known him for a week, sure, but there's an aspect to him that makes me want to ditch all my school priorities and be by his side every waking second. But I've made such a shitty first impression, not to mention that I also made a few asshole moves amongst the first few days upon knowing him. I hope he knows I didn't mean to seem like a dick.
Patrick mouths something, but I can't exactly read lips. The health official steps forward. He tenses up at her steps. Softly, I whisper, "Again", hoping he catches my drift.
And he does. His lips move once more. Nope, still didn't quite get it.
"Oh, dear," the official murmurs. "Patrick, correct me if I'm wrong but- you're bulimic?"
He nods sadly.
"What does that mean?" I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper.
The official turns to me. "Pete, are you aware of the term 'binging-and-purging'?"
-
[6/23/16] for some stupid fucking reason they end of this chapter got erased but it's fixed; sorry for any inconveniences made out of this
i also take it that there was a qotd at the end of this so fave color?