A pile of paper- lead scratched and sprawled across the pages- were spread out on his desk, some squished underneath the massive weight of his rented, worn textbook that was practically falling apart at the loose spine. The boy was hunched over the mass of assignments and notes and words he'd spent all night attempting to embed into his caffeinated brain slowly dying out from the rush it had with the three cups of coffee he'd shamefully consumed at the beginning of the night. Damp white blond hair slightly curled at the ends sat a mess of waves upon his head after he thought a shower would motivate him to study, which it did...only for a moment until he realized the effort it would take for him to jam-pack an entire quarter's worth of lessons into his memory in one sitting. Patrick had no one to blame but himself for the severity of the situation.
Skipping out on classes to work on his stupid side project had been a grave mistake, but he hadn't been aware at first of exactly how much damage he'd done to his grades. It was when he'd finally checked his email that morning and saw the notices sent by the university about his scholarship on the verge of being revoked that he decided it would be a good time to put down the guitar and actually care about his education. The problem was that it may have already been too late. He slammed the textbook close, completely burnt out at a quarter past five in the morning. There was no possible way he would be able to save his scholarship at this point.
His mind was mush as he stared at the silver desk lamp and wondered how he'd gotten to this point in his life- a lowly college student who had changed his major a million and one times and lived off cups of noodles in his dorm he barely could bother himself to clean. Patrick didn't understand why he put himself through the torture and pressure of a college education especially one that rode on a full-paid scholarship that required for him to keep a 3.5 GPA. He thought he was capable, considering his excellent grade streak in high school where he was able to manage straight A's in all his honor classes, but when it came time to actually decide what he wanted to do with his life, what the purpose of having a perfect record was for, he hadn't the slightest clue as to what career he desired to pursue. He'd taken one of those career tests the universities offered and had gotten something music related that he couldn't quite remember now being in his sophomore year. That wasn't acceptable, though.
His parents, hell, even his teachers expected that he become something worth noting like a doctor or engineer or even a politician like his speech and debate sponsor recommended he look into. Nothing ever sparked his interest or felt like a right enough fit for him, which was probably why he became so invested in his band that he'd dubbed as a side project. It was the only thing he found fun and worth while even if it was only a hobby and nothing Patrick expected to ever take off since they were the type of band that never did gigs and just jammed out in a garage on the weekend. Now though, now he was in too deep, put too much time and energy and sleepless nights into this whole college thing, and it only landed him in a pile of shit. Patrick knew full well that he was at a dead end with no plans on what he was going to do next.
He dropped his head onto the hard cover of the textbook and closed his eyes just to rest them for a second so he could think things over. That second somehow turned into a few hours, and when the sun hit his back hot and heavy at noon Patrick sat upright immediately with a page out of his biology notes glued to his forehead. He peeled the paper off and caught a glimpse of the time, sending him into an alarmed state as he remembered that his lab started at noon. The college student hurried to pack up all his materials and change out of the clothes he'd worn the previous day, not even bothering to fix the mop of dyed blond skewing out at weird angles or greet his roommate who he slipped past once he came through the door. His class was a five minute walk away from his dorm, so with his bookbag hanging off his shoulder by one strap and his books clutched to his chest, he hustled through the area like his life depended on it.
He hadn't been too observant of his surroundings or the others in his space since he was completely fixed on making up a quick excuse to give to his professor, so it was a huge surprise when he walked straight into someone who felt like a brick wall and fell smack dab on his own ass. His books slid out beside him onto the sidewalk, and he was left puzzled for a few moments there on the concrete. The student he'd crashed into turned around and looked down at the pathetic sight. Patrick squinted his eyes, recalling that he forgot to put in his contacts, and focused his vision on their tanned, well-sculpted face.
"Watch where you're going, pipsqueak," he told the blond boy with a hint of laughter in his tone.
They'd never interacted before, or at least Patrick thought they never did. Gabriel Saporta was the student government president- a position he had been interested in briefly before he realized he most likely wouldn't make the cut for that type of leadership. Everyone knew who he was, but Gabe only associated himself regularly with his fraternity mates. It was a wonder that he was ever elected when he looked so poorly upon every other social group on campus.
Perhaps, Patrick assumed, his good looks and charm had swayed the votes for most students. The only reason he'd thought so was because it had certainly worked on him despite Gabe's asshole personality. If you looked past the rumors of sleeping with his entire frat house and the history of campus pranks on certain social groups, he actually did the university some good with the laws he was able to get through concerning scholarship availability and club power.
"You going to get up or what?" he spat, lightly kicking a book out of his way.
Patrick scrambled to his feet and picked up his things underneath the annoyed eye of the six-foot-four, Sephardi student. He met his terrifying gaze and stood there unable to move.
"What are you mute?"
"No. I'm just late to class," he said.
"Well, don't just stand there, dummy. Get going."
Patrick would have been more than willing to stand up against him with a snide comment or two, but he'd already wasted too much time and was forced to take off, feeling like an absolute fool. He wasn't one of those people who let others push them around without a fight. Back in his freshman year of high school, he became an easy target for bullies, but after he'd come to his uncle for help he put them all in their place with a few month's worth of self-defense training. Over the years, he learned to perfect those skills since his outward appearance made him fall victim to multiple incidents where people thought they could take advantage of him due to his small stature and soft, harmless features. However, Patrick never used his knowledge of hand-to-hand combat for violence but rather for defending himself in situations where his well being was threatened.
It was what his uncle had made a significant point of, and Patrick never dreamed of ever causing trouble for no good and just reason. The classroom door didn't budge when he pulled on the handle. Peering inside the window, he saw his classmates with their goggles and aprons already on stood over Bunsen burners lit by strikers in their hands. His professor appeared at the door, opening it enough so her face was visible.
"I'm sorry, Patrick, but I specifically told the class last Tuesday not to be late to this lab. You're going to have to make it up on your free time without my assistance."
He flinched at the door slamming in his face and felt his stomach drop, and to make matters worse, his phone chimed, indicating he'd received an email. It only took one glance at the subject in the notification to know that his scholarship had officially been revoked. The contents of the email stated that if he wanted more information to go see his counselor, but Patrick was over it already. There was nothing they could say that would give him any hope at salvaging his education.
He retreated to his dorm room where he found his roommate, Joe, and Joe's boyfriend, Andy, playing a video game.
"Hey, dude, what's up? I thought you had class," Joe said.
"It's a long story, but as of today I can no longer afford to keep coming here."
The sound of the game pausing panged inside Patrick's head like a nail on chalkboard.
"Whoa. Hold on. What are you talking about?"
"I've been thinking about dropping out for the longest time, okay? I think I purposely let my grades slip as an excuse to just give it all up. The result was multiple warnings telling me I wouldn't have a full ride if I kept slacking off, which I only ignored, thinking my problems would magically go away."
"So what's your plan? Where are you going to go?"
Patrick threw his hands up in the air and slumped down on the couch in between the pair.
"I don't know. I didn't think that far ahead. I'll probably have to move back in with my parents or something. Like I have no clue what I'm doing anymore."
Andy rubbed his back in comfort as Joe sent him a reassuring gaze.
"Hey. Chin up, buddy. It isn't the end of the world. College isn't right for everyone. I probably won't get a new roommate until next semester, so you're welcome to stay while you figure shit out."
"Yeah, 'Trick. It might feel like you can't make anything of yourself now, but this is just a bump in the road. You know what you need? Some junk food to get your mind off the whole situation," Andy chimed in, reaching over the arm of the couch and bringing out a bag of potato chips and packet of licorice.
Patrick gratefully accepted the snacks, indulging in the blissful tastes over the next few hours as he watched the couple battle each other in Street Fighter. Eventually, when the food was gone and his friends had grown tired of playing Patrick decided that it would be best if he went for a walk before they started making out in front him. He strolled down the block away from the campus and toward the valley of fast-food restaurants and liquor stores with a couple of strip clubs and churches sprinkled in between. The setting sun fell behind him just as he rounded a corner and discovered a bar down a decent-looking neighborhood. Luckily, Patrick was the exact age to enjoy a drink legally and went inside to order a whiskey on the rocks.
Bars weren't his usual scene. Patrick preferred the serene environment of a library or park, but this seemed like one of those times where he wanted to just break out of his comfort zone. If he had to bend a few personal rules he was fine with that. He cradled the glass in his hands and let his eyes scan over the people who'd gathered there for a drink. They ranged from jocks he knew from the football team causing a sort of ruckus to middle-aged passerby's looking for a calm night on their own.
Patrick related to the latter now more than ever. He glanced up at the flat screen hanging on the wall in front of him, switched on to a news channel. A slide show of the royal family played on the screen as the news anchor rambled on about the assassination attempt that had shaken up the country a couple of weeks ago. The words jumbled all together whilst he drank and half-listened, reading the subtitles rather mindlessly. He never cared much about the royals.
In his opinion, they were a bunch of snobs only kept around as tradition while they leached off the taxpayers. Being famous for nothing seemed to be a trend nowadays. When the news anchor began to speak about a job opening at the palace it sparked his interest rather quickly. They were looking to hire a bodyguard for the prince, and a crazy idea came to Patrick right then. He considered what it'd be like to do the job, to spend day in and day out with the country's elite celebrities.
If he'd heard of doing something like that a couple of years ago he would have laughed at the thought, but he was at a point in his life where it didn't sound so ridiculous. The job appeared to obtainable with his range of skills and impeccable background, and even if he didn't land it, which seemed like the likeliest scenario, he had nothing to lose.
"Oh look who it is."
Gabe slid into the stool next to him with a bottle of beer in his hand and a drunken smirk.
He reeked like he'd bathed in an entire tub of alcohol and smoked a pack of a cigarettes before coming up to him.
"What do you want?" Patrick asked.
"Mm. Nothing, man. Just wanted to say I'm for being a jerk earlier. I didn't mean to come off like that. I've been stressing over the upcoming election, and I let my nerves get to me."
"Oh....wow. I didn't expect you to apologize. It's fine, I guess. You should learn how to appeal to your voters better."
"Yeah? What's your name?"
"Patrick. I already know yours, Gabe."
"Everyone seems to, but I like that. Patrick. It rolls off the tongue nicely."
"Erm. Thanks."
The taller student leaned his chin on his hand and shifted himself so that their knees touched. Patrick tried to ignore the feeling.
"So you here with anyone or...?"
"I'm by myself," Patrick replied, running his fingers along the glass rim.
"You wanna join me and my friends over there?"
"You mean your fraternity fuck buddies? No thank you."
Gabe chuckled at the comment and had a sip of his beer.
"I'm gay, but I'm not into them like that. I know that's contrary to what everyone talks about. They're all like my brothers, though. I go for guys outside of my group of friends if you haven't noticed."
"I don't care enough to notice," he said.
"That's too bad. I mean I've noticed you."
Patrick cocked a brow, his lips falling into a straight line.
"You're kidding me."
The taller man put his hand on the blond's thigh just above the knee, and let it trail slightly upwards.
"Nope. You might think I'm too absorbed in my own world to care about anyone else's, but since I ran into you at the voting booth I haven't been able to stop thinking about you."
A memory came back to Patrick, one he hadn't thought about until right now, and he recalled the time he exited the booth after filling out the bubble sheet and passed by Gabe himself who had been waiting in the same line. It had been such a minuscule, unimportant moment that Patrick could barely remember the details of what happened.
"That's kind of stalkerish," he told the other.
"Oh? Excuse me for admiring beauty when I see it."
"That's not even remotely smooth. I didn't need you to tell me I'm cute when it's pretty obvious."
"Well, since that's established do you find me attractive, Patrick?"
"Nah. You're not really my taste."
Patrick knocked the large hand off his leg and spun in the stool so he was facing out toward the rest of the bar.
"Don't worry. I've encountered straight guys before. When I got done with them they weren't so straight anymore."
Patrick laughed and downed the rest of his whiskey in one shot, tossing his head back briefly.
"Oh, I fuck dudes. You're just not one of them."
He rose from his seat and walked to the exit with the intent of immediately passing out in his bed once he got back to the dorm, but a pair of hands grabbed his shoulders as soon as he stepped outside. The blond was yanked into the dark alley on the side of the bar.
His body was shoved up against the brick wall as he met the blood shot eyes he'd been looking into a minute ago.
"I don't play games, Patrick. You should feel grateful that I'm even into you when no one else is. It's an unspoken rule on campus that when I offer to sleep with you you take it. End deal," Gabe slurred.
"You're fucking delusional. Let go of me, scumbag."
"Yeah? What if I don't? What's a little guy like you gonna do?"
"This."
Patrick's fist flew right into his attacker's groin, knocking the latter off balance and giving him the perfect opportunity to put the pervert in a choke-hold.
"Stop! I'm sorry, okay?!"
"Don't ever try that again with me or anyone else, got it? I won't hesitate to snap your neck right here."
"Okay! Okay! I promise. I'm sorry. Please don't hurt me."
Patrick let him fall into the gravel below them and scrape up his skin revealed by the holes in his jeans. He watched Gabe stumble down the block back to campus and realized that maybe he was fit to be a bodyguard after all.
***
The only other job Patrick ever had was some pizza delivery gig that lasted the summer before he left to college. He didn't know what type of experience the royals were looking for, but he made sure to include his vast array of defense mechanisms and a list of times he taught classes at his local recreational center. When he got done filling out the application and looked over what he'd typed it didn't seem all that impressive. If he was in charge of hiring he most certainly wouldn't have picked out his own application for the position, but he clicked the submit button anyway since he tended to over-analyzing everything.
Only a couple of days had gone by since he had put in the application, and he received an email stating that he'd been one of the few chosen for a interview. The news turned his entire mindset around. No longer did his future look gloom. If the royals thought he was worthy to talk with then Patrick thought he could do anything. Ivy and ferns grew through the crevices of the old winding stone path, which led directly to the colossal structure.
The palace loomed proudly behind solid iron gates, flanked by rows of skeletal trees crowned in jade, swaying gently to the balmy spring wind. At its threshold stood a delicate marble fountain, the soft gurgling of the clear water melodic as it resonated in the surrounding silence. It was one thing to see the palace in a magazine or on t.v., but up close was whole different experience. There were a dozen other people there awaiting in a room to be called in for their interview. Patrick felt like the odd one out of the bunch with every girl and guy there looking like they belonged in a lead role of an action movie, big muscles and all.
He didn't know who to expect he'd be meeting with, but the king and queen hadn't crossed his mind. When he was called he entered a more welcoming room with an open window and velvety chairs. Patrick nearly gasped seeing the royals sitting in a love seat together. The person who had led him there was a man with bright orangey-red hair that flowed just above his shoulders. He had a name tag with Gerard clipped to his cashmere sweater and a pair of designer sunglasses propped on the bridge of his pale, upturned nose.
Patrick bowed to the king and queen before sitting across from them.
"Welcome. Thank you for your application, Mr. Stump. The king and queen are here to personally see to it that the right applicant is chosen for their son. We've read over your resume a few times and were rather impressed. The only thing we want to ask you is why do you want this job?"
"Oh. Um. I'm going to be honest and say I didn't hear about this position until a couple nights ago, but as soon as I did I knew that it was perfect for me. I'm willing to put my life on the line to protect the prince. He's the future of the country."
The king and queen exchanged smiles as Gerard took note of what he said in a clipboard.
"This isn't a standard job. This is live in position meaning you will eat and sleep full-time at the palace. You'll also need to be an excellent team worker, detail-oriented and a good communicator. In return you get 33 days of holiday, all meals and accommodation provided for, along with other benefits. The salary is $22,000 a year which may not sound like much, but all your living requirements will be provided for. Does this sound like something you can agree on?"
"Yes. Of course," Patrick replied with a confident smile at the end of his words.
There was no turning back after that.