FicWad

This chapter's pretty short, I'm sorry about that but hey, it means I can end up leaving you guys in suspense. Haha. Nah, I'm not that cruel, as you can tell I've been posting one or two chapters a day. I'm just addicted to writing this now. Thank you for the reviews guys, I know I keep saying this but your feedback makes it all worthwhile. So this one's dedicated to you guys.

As the weeks came and went, Patrick isolated himself further and further from his surroundings. He rarely came out of Pete's spare room, only appearing for meals and when he needed a walk to keep his legs becoming numb. Andy and Joe regularly stopped over at Pete's for dinner, and were wary of what they talked about or said to Patrick. He had developed a habit of selective hearing, blocking out their conversations when they were talking about a girl, which was a lot of the time given Pete's new relationship with his latest addiction.
"She's so amazing. Seriously, this is different from anything I've ever had. With Jenny it's like, I want to just sit and talk to her all day and night. She's so interesting, and clever."
"She said the funniest thing last night," Pete said, waving his fork in the air, making Joe dodge out of the way to avoid being stabbed. "You know when I was cutting the grass? She was all, 'when that lawn mower cuts off your toes, don't come running to me'! It was hilarious."
Andy and Joe stared at him blankly, Andy just thinking the joke was stupid, but Joe with a glazed over look in his eyes that was obvious he was replaying it in his head.
"Give him five minutes." Andy said. Pete was still laughing as he ate, mumbling "Don't come running to me!".
Patrick sat opposite him, avoiding eye contact and conversation with them, twirling his spaghetti round his fork and letting it fall back onto his plate.
"Are you gonna eat that?" Joe asked, eyeing his hardly touched plate.
"No." Patrick shook his head, and grabbed his knife off the plate as Joe hastily pulled it towards him and slid the food onto his own.
"And then she starts telling this story, where this guy calls an ambulance when his wife is having her baby, and the woman on the other end of the phone is going to him 'is this her first child?' and he yells '/No! This is her husband!'/, I mean, how great is that?"
The sound of Patrick's chair scraping against the floor was heard as he got up and left the table, heading back up the stairs.
"Nice move, Pete. You know Christina was refusing to take that lamaze class Patrick signed them up for, right?" Andy said, shaking his head.
"Yeah." Pete said, his face dropping. "Oh. I didn't think."
"Well, you're gonna have to start thinking." Andy replied, gathering Patrick's plate along with his and Pete's, leaving Joe still eating Patrick's meal. "We can't just blurt out anything right now, we have to be careful."
"So why didn't she do that lamazda class or whatever?" Joe asked, his mouth full of food. Andy shrugged.
"Beats me. He wasn't exactly elaborating on the reasons."
"She's such a bitch, he has to know about everything! It's not like they're going to buy another cat or whatever, this is a baby. And he has to know about it all." Pete sighed.
"Didn't he study biology?" Joe enquired.
"Yeah. Why?"
"Well, wouldn't they have studied babies and stuff in Biology class?"
Pete and Andy both moaned, Pete stood up while Andy laughed and shook his head.
"Yeah, that's the same." Andy said.
"Ah, Joe. You're gonna make a great dad one day."

"Patrick?" Andy opened his bedroom door and waved to get Patrick's attention. He was sitting cross legged on the bed with his headphones on, listening to his iPod and reading something on his laptop.
"Hey." Patrick said, removing his headphones and sitting up.
"You wanna come see a movie with us?"
"No, thanks." Patrick said, putting his headphones back on. Andy watched him politely ignore him and busy himself with his iPod. He didn't want to stay as Patrick clearly wanted to be alone

"He doesn't want to." Andy said, coming back downstairs.
"OK, he's got to get outside at some point." Pete replied, starting up the stairs.
"No, dude, leave him be. Getting over someone doesn't happen overnight."
"Yeah, but it's been a month and a half!"
"So?"
"So, I'm worried about him! He's just sitting there, night and day, playing depressing songs about missing people, which doesn't help, and he withdraws himself from any conversation that he knows will go in the direction of someone else being happy. He's stopping everyone else being happy."
"Pete, don't be such a jerk."
"I'm not, I'm being realistic. I'm not allowed to talk about my girlfriend because he doesn't have one. I'm not allowed to talk about love or anything. I shouldn't have to hide the fact that I'm actually happy just so he doesn't feel left out. When he was with Christina he'd talk about her for hours sometimes, and I used to sit there wanting what he had, what he was going on about for ages. Now it's gone for him, doesn't mean it shouldn't stop for me."
"Are you done?" Andy asked, leaning against the banister.
"I'm serious, Andy. He's changed. It's like he's... dead."
"Well, did you ever stop to think that maybe a part of him died when Christina left him?"
Pete looked at the ground and shifted his feet.
"Well, I... I just want him to be OK."
"I know you do. But we have to let him be. He'll get over it in time, might be a long time but as long as we're here for him, he'll be OK."
Pete nodded.
"All right."
"OK. You wanna go see that movie then?"
"Yeah." Pete took his jacket off the banister and put it on, as Joe came out of the kitchen wearing his own.
"Ready?" He asked.
"Yep." Andy said, "Patrick's not gonna come though."
"Is he OK?"
"He will be. We'll make sure of that."

"Oh my God." Patrick whispered in the dark hours later, his stomach lurching. How could he have been so stupid?
"Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck." Patrick repeated, stumbling over his words as he clambered out of bed and paced the room. His head was spinning, he was certain he was about to pass out on the floor, and his mouth began to get acidic feeling before you were sick. He made it to the bathroom just in time as he threw up, his stomach heaving harder than normal, as though to get rid of all the emotions he'd been feeling the past few weeks.
"Patrick? Are you all right?" Patrick looked around quick enough to glimpse Jenny standing in the bathroom doorway in her vest and small shorts - just like Christina used to wear. Oh, God, Christina. He tried to mumble a reply but was stopped by his stomach lurching again and his head ducking into the toilet. The next minute, Jenny was at his side, kneeling down beside him and rubbing his back as he was violently sick.
"Shh, it's all right." She said, pushing his hair back from his forehead as he moaned in despair. She felt the sweat on his head and began to get worried. Was he coming down with the flu or was it a one off?
"It's all right, Patrick, I'm here." She soothed him as he tried to sit up, but finding himself too weak from being sick, remained on the floor. His tears were obscuring his vision, dripping silently off his cheeks as he flushed the toilet and let Jenny keep rubbing his back, making soothing noises beside him. His cheeks would normally flush red, but his face was so drained of color that it was impossible. His throat felt raw and he could only think how glad he was his tears could be passed off as a result of him being sick. He wiped his forehead and was shocked at the cold sweat his body and face had broken out in. It's amazing what stress and emotional turmoil does to someone.
"What's the matter, Patrick?" She asked, mopping his head with a flannel as he remained sitting.
"My baby's not my baby." He moaned, covering his eyes with his hands. "It's not mine."

Wanna know whether Patrick's right or not? Wanna know the story following the last chapter's cliffhanger? Review and you shall know! Thank you.