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The following is a work of fiction. Any statements regarding any person, place, or other entity (real or imaginary) is the sole responibility of the author of this work of fiction. Fan Works Inc. takes no responsibility for the content of user submitted stories. All stories based on real people are works of fiction and do not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. All stories based on other copyrighted works are written with authors knowing that these works violate copyright laws.

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A Blizzard In Chicago
By Giovanna

 

Title: A Blizzard In Chicago
Author: Megan
Beta: Giovanna
Rating: PG-13 for mentions of sex, and the f-bomb.
Pairing: Pete/Patrick

I am walking alone down the street. I recognize it as the street I lived on as a child. Looking around, I realize everything is different, small changes that are seen as imperfections in my mind's eye. A ripple of terror runs through me as I begin to feel like I have lost something. Turning from side to side, I finally see a taxi materialize on the street in front of me. I begin to chase it, running frantically, my feet making a loud bang with every step. My shoes start to lose grip, and I can no longer run. My feet are still moving, but I am not advancing any further on the pavement. The taxi slips out of my sight and I cry out. It's gone; I am deserted here. I fall to my knees and begin to weep, but no tears come. I am cold, dry, lost. I look behind me, and in the distance, I see a huge wave, crushing everything between it's giant ripples. I stand up and begin to run again, but it's too late. As I slip under the surface of the water, a face flashes behind my eyes.
I wake up in a cold sweat. I look at the clock. 8:45, I should get up. I roll over and look at the other side of the bed. The pillow sits there, undisturbed. For a moment, I wonder why. Then my memory comes back.
The realization of what happened last night floods my mind. A wave of coldness washes over me. My chest feels as if it might explode with every breath I take. My stomach is in a knot. I suddenly can't breathe. My muscles are tight, and I am chilled to the bone. My face is aching, feeling as if it is a balloon about to burst.
But there are no tears. My eyes are dry, my sinuses are pulsing.
For several moments, I just lay in my bed, my only movement being the violent shaking and trembling of my entire body. I convince my mind to shut off and just stop thinking about it, about him. After a few deep breaths, I get up and walk into the kitchen.
I pull two bowls out of the dishwasher. I reach down and pull a box of Coco Puffs and a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch out of the cabinet. I pour a bowl of Coco Puffs and then begin to pour a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch into the second bowl.
As soon as the bowl is full, I look down. I had poured the bowl without thinking, it was my morning routine.
In a fit of frustration, I threw the glass bowl at the wall. It crashed into a picture of Patrick and I, causing them both to hit the hardwood floor and shatter. I slinked down the counter, and sat on the kitchen floor.
Our home was so empty. Like someone had removed all of the heaters from the house. I was so cold. My head pounded and my vision went back. I tried my hardest to blame him. To convince myself that it was his fault, he had left me. But I couldn't do it. If I wasn't so stupid, this would never have happened. Patrick would still be here, cuddling me, telling me everthing was going to be okay. But he wasn't because of what I'd done. To be completely honest, I don't deserve him. But I just love him so much. I literally can't live without him. I eye the bottle of sleeping pills on the counter across from me. That was all it would take. A few handfulls and I could forget. I could let God sort this out.
I wonder where he is right now. Maybe down town at a coffee shop, getting eye-fucked by some young, gorgeous waiter. Maybe he had ran to someone else. I had always noticed the way William Beckett had looked at him, maybe Patrick had noticed, too. It killed me to think about anyone touching my Patrick. Anyone else burying their face in his neck or tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear. Anyone else smelling his distinctive scent or kissing his full, red lips. Anyone else laying next to him in bed, recieving sweet, delicate kisses while panting and recovering from what they had just done. I almost became sick at the thought of anyone else getting to enjoy that with my lover. I need him.
If there is a God, he will bring my Patrick back to me. After deciding that, I sat perfectly still on the kitchen floor and thought about everything that was happening. I knew I'd probably never get Patrick back, but the hope that I might was the only thing keeping me from taking the easy way out. Tears still hadn't come.
I didn't hear the door open, but I suddenly felt like I wasn't alone in the room. I looked up from where my eyes were settled on the floor and looked at him. My baby was standing right in front of me, a look of shock and bewilderment radiating from his face.
Patrick sat down next to me, grasping my hand in his. With his touch, he warmed me, shooting life back into my body. Burning tears began to streak down my face, landing on our conjoined hands.
"Patrick. My God, I am so sorry." I said.
"I know Pete, I know." Patrick said, his eyes swelling with tears. "It's really hard because it hurts. But I couldn't even go a day without you. Everything reminded me of us."
"I'm so sorry. I know I hurt you. And I don't deserve forgiveness, but I won't be able to survive if you leave. Without you, everything is so cold." I told Patrick. "It won't happen again, I promise."
"I believe you." Patrick said, kissing my tears away. He pulled me close and held me tight. How could I be so stupid the first time? I don't know what I was thinking. But it will never happen again.

 

The preceeding was a work of fiction. Any statements regarding any person, place, or other entity (real or imaginary) is the sole responibility of the author of this work of fiction. Fan Works Inc. takes no responsibility for the content of user submitted stories. All stories based on real people are works of fiction and do not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. All stories based on other copyrighted works are written with authors knowing that these works violate copyright laws.

Please see the Terms of Service for more information.

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