FicWad

It was just gone twelve when we said our goodnights and went off to bed. Patrick to the room next to mine, of course. I watched him walk slowly into the spare room before making my own way to my room. Getting in, Hemmy followed me and jumped on the bottom end of the bed. I chuckled and patted his head. That night I went to sleep without even taking my pills.

Throwing them down in the drawer of my bedside table, I huff. I didn’t want them anymore. They made me feel so numb. Everything was colorless and my third eye was blind. I remember discussing my options with my doctor. It was this or therapy. Thanks to Ash, I had to do both. Secretly. She didn’t want the press to find out that her boyfriend was a nut job. My first meeting with the therapist was bizarre. Suddenly he was telling me how I was feeling. Saying how I classed myself as worthless. How I had no value for myself. Sure, maybe I felt like that a little but after talking to him, he had me convinced.

They put me on the safest drugs they could. SSRIs. Zoloft. Minimal side effects they said. Just aggression, insomnia and tremors. There was also a high chance I’d get addicted. Great. Sound’s peachy. Oh, and the best side effect of all. Suicidal thoughts. Woah. So, let me get this straight. I’m taking a drug to help cure my depression by increasing the quantity of suicidal thoughts I have? Whoever dreamt that one up is a genius.
The next day, I woke up in an insane mood. Holy shit! It’s Saturday! Sure, it’s seven in the morning and I probably should be asleep right now, but I’m far too… something… to sleep right now. I’ve got this weird feeling in my stomach and my hands are shaking a little, hopefully meaning I need some coffee. I wander into the living room in naked from the boxers up, in search of the kitchen. My eyes are all out of focus thanks to the great night of sleep I received, so walking across the room I bump into a couple of things, emitting curse words.

Then I bump into something unfamiliar. Eyes closed, I prod at the object in front of me. With each poke, the object squeaks oddly. Opening my eyes slowly, the thing in front of me suddenly takes form. The form of a young, embarrassed-looking seventeen year old busker, with a coffee in hand for me.

‘Uh... Good... Uh… Good morning?’ He stumbles on his words.

I realize that I have my hand over his heart. I can feel it beating pretty rapidly. I must have scared him quite badly.

‘Shit…’ I move my hand, ‘Sorry Trick’

I smile at him and he hands me the cup, not looking me in the eye. It was only then that I remembered that I was only wearing my underwear. Blushing furiously, I back my way into my bedroom and lock the door. In no time at all, I was out in a pair of black ripped jeans and a red hoodie. Patrick stared, head cocked to the side. I frowned.

‘What?’ I ask, wondering why he’s looking at me like an animal in a zoo

‘I’ve never seen you in anything but work clothes…’ He said slowly, continuing to analyze me.

‘And…?’ I question, not seeing why it matters.

‘Well, I didn’t expect you to look so…’ He paused, thinking of what to the end the sentence with, ‘I mean, I just didn’t expect you to dress like that…’

‘Well, what did you expect me to dress like?’ I fall onto the couch, wrapped up warm in my hoodie.

‘I don’t know,’ He shrugged, leaning on the kitchen counter, ‘All shirts and ties and shit’

‘Really?’ I laugh, ‘How old do you think I am?’
‘Too old’ Patrick stuck his tongue out

‘Pfft...’ I chuckled, ‘Mature much?’

‘Apparently not’ He sighed, drinking down some juice he stole from the fridge.

I shook my head; it was like living with a little kid. Not that I minded Patrick being so weird. He was a bit of a goofball. I put my hands down on my knees, trying to stop them from shaking. My whole body felt out of place. Like a quote out of context, you know. As if I wasn’t really. My stomach heaved.

‘Uh… I wanted to ask you...’ Patrick began, running his finger over the wet circle on the counter that his glass had left, ‘About rent…’

‘Don’t…’ I swallow, desperately trying to stay still, ‘It’s cool… Just make sure there’s always a jar of coffee on the counter and plenty of milk in the fridge and we’ll call it even.’

‘Thanks, man’ He smiled, looking over at me concerned, ‘You okay?’

Slowly, I shook my head. Taking a deep breath, I can’t push away this lightning headache that’s forming at the front of my brain. Trick’s talking but I can’t hear him. Either that or I’m just not listening. My eyes have closed, kind of automatically, and my fingernails are digging into my knees. In normal circumstances, that would hurt, but right now, I can’t feel it. Although, I do feel a foreign hand on my shoulder and a muffled voice in my ear. The feeling of a warm breath on my neck and the dull pressure of someone trying to lift me.

Inhaling as hard as I can, gradually things are starting to look a little clearer. Patrick’s melodically voice is coming nearer and my knees are aching.

‘Pete?’ A voice rings, a hand shakes me gently, two arms support me, ‘Pete?’

‘Ye...ah..?’ I stutter out, palm against my forehead, ‘’m okay…’

‘What’s wrong?’ He asks, carrying me over to…somewhere…, ‘Are you in pain?’

‘Ye…s…N…o …I…do..n’t…know…’ My voice is hoarse and the light in the room seems too bright, ‘I feel... numb…’

‘Here…’ He says, and my eye flick open painfully,

Trick had moved me into my bedroom and was ever so slowly moving me toward me bed.

‘Here...’ He repeated, letting his arms slip from around me, ‘Sit down…’

He drops me down lightly and I lie my head down on the mattress. It doesn’t help, my head’s still pounding.

‘Should I call an ambulance?’ Patrick asked, sounding terrified, ‘I should… I don’t know…’

I reach my hand out towards my bedside table, signaling at the drawer. Patrick opens it and removes my pill bottle. Reading the label, he unscrews the top and tips two small white pills into the palm of his hand.

‘Do you need these?’ He queried, I nodded.

Placing them in the center of my hand, I sighed and tossed them into my mouth. Swallowing hard, my eyes clamped shut, Patrick stroked at my hair, like you would a sick child. Feeling my body untense, I look up at Patrick who has shock written all over his face.

‘Are… Uh… Bet...ter?’ Trick inquired, fingers in my hair, leaning over me.

‘Yeah…’ I croaked, tilting my head back, ‘Sorry… about that…’

‘It’s okay…’ He whispered, ‘Had me worried though…’

‘I should have told you... bout my pills…’ I hiss, throat tight, ‘I’m sorry..’

‘It’s okay... really...’ He tried a smile, looking into my bloodshot eyes, ‘Why... Why... did that happen though?’

‘I... Uh.. Didn’t take my tablet last night…’ I sigh, ‘Withdrawal... symptoms… I’ve been on them so damn long… Part of my routine... Fucks me up otherwise…’

There was an awkward silence, where we both just stared into space, a question hanging on the end of Patrick’s tongue but he couldn’t quite get it out. After about two minutes of putting up with it, I could bear the emptiness no longer.


‘I have depression…’ I stated, just loud enough for him to hear.
‘Okay…’ Patrick answered simply,

‘Oh... Okay..?’ I say, unsure of what his statement meant.

‘Okay,’ He nodded, ‘That’s okay…’

‘Really?’ I ask

‘Really’ He nods again.

I sigh in relief. He edges closer, with his knees on the floor and elbows resting on the bed. His head leaning on his hand.

‘So … Uh… Stupid question but… Why have you got depression?’ He questioned, not wanting to pressure me too much

I shrug and grin at him.

‘Loneliness…’ I answer, exhaling, ‘Feeling trapped…’

‘Ash?’ He laughed

‘Ash’ I agree, chuckling.

I look at my alarm clock on the bedside table. Seven thirty six. I have to be in therapy at eight. Every Saturday. When I’m not in work I’m with the most arrogant shrink on the planet talking about why I’m wrong inside. Fun.

‘I… Uh… Have to go soon…’ I state, still watching the clock

‘Okay… Where?’ He asks, eyebrow raised.

‘To see my doctor,’ I reply, rubbing my temples, ‘Do you need to go anywhere?’

‘I could go see Joe’ He retorted, thinking, ‘We’ve got some practice to do’

‘Practice?’ I utter,

‘Band… I’m in a band…’ He smiled

‘Why am I not surprised?’ I snort, ‘I’ll give you a ride, kay?’

Patrick hesitated.

‘Are you sure you’re okay to drive?’ Trick posed, concerned

‘Yeah, I’m fine now…’ I declare, ‘Seriously, I’m fine… But thank you.. For helping me…’

‘No problem’ Patrick giggled and patted me comfortingly on my arm.

I wondered if Patrick actually was okay. He seemed really quiet about it. As if there was something under the surface that I couldn’t see. Maybe he hated me now. I hoped not. God, I hoped not. There was something though. Disappointment? See, this is why I don’t have many friends. I disappoint them so easily. Patrick was all I really had friends wise. I mean, sure, I had colleagues. Work buddies. No one I saw outside of the office though. So Patrick, I guess, was now my best friend. Yeah, I like the sound of that. Pete and Patrick, partners in crime.