WHO: Patrick and Joey WHAT: See you never again in my life! (Writing this made my heart hurt) WHEN: Wednesday, several hours after being found WHERE: Hospital. Too lazy to look up specifics, tra la la~ WARNINGS: Mentions of torture, potty mouths, and face-slapping
Joey had been floating in some kind of drug-addled bliss since he had arrived at the hospital. He didn't remember Patrick coming to him in the alley, nor did he remember Patrick and Anthony caring for him until the ambulance came.
What Joseph did remember was weeks spent 'enjoying' Lucifer's 'hospitality'. He remembered being crucified and raped and starving. And he remembered that Lucifer himself had finally pushed him out the door. No one had come for him. And so when he was finally aware enough to realise he was in the hospital and safe, instead of feeling relieved, he just felt almost consumed by anger.
His wounds had been bandaged and he had been told he would need surgery on his hands when he was in more stable condition. The crucifixion had done a number on him. He was also told he had had blood tests done and the results would come back soon. He was suddenly glad he hadn't really been aware of any sort of rape kit goings on. They had given him pills to try to keep him from getting infected with HIV, though Joey knew at least he didn't have to worry about that.
His IV was dripping pain killers as well as much-needed nutrients into him. His mouth felt gross and dry and though it hurt, he managed to reach out and grab a glass of water. It was so simple, being able to sate his thirst the moment he felt it. But just that most basic of needs had been denied him.
He savoured the water, and the freedom to drink it.
The door opened and Joey glanced over, expecting a doctor or even Lucifer who would laugh and tell him he was just kidding and take him back to his place to kill him. What he hadn't expected was his ginger-haired ex-friend. The expression on Patrick's face was crushed and Joey took sadistic enjoyment in it.
"Joey," Patrick said and then he burst into tears.
"Dramatic," Joey huffed. Patrick didn't listen or didn't hear and he was suddenly at Joey's side looking very much like he was about to wrap his arms around Joey. He was running on pure instinct and weeks of built up anger when he reached up and slapped Patrick across the face. The sudden rush of pain it caused him made his eyes water. "Ow, fuck!"
Patrick's own hand raised to his cheek and he stared at Joey in shock. "Joseph-?"
"Fuck you," Joey managed to bite out. His voice was weak and there wasn't much power behind it. Just staying awake was exhausting, but he wasn't falling asleep with a traitor in his room. "Fuck you, this is your fault."
"My fault?!" Patrick shouted, shocked.
"Yes, your fucking fault. Lucifer wouldn't even know who I was if I didn't know you. Neil would be alive. I wouldn't have been tortured for weeks-"
"Joey, I'm so sorry!" Patrick was crying again and Joey almost wished he could slap the saint a second time. And for someone who normally abhorred such repulsive behaviour, that really meant something.
"Where the fuck were you anyway! Your brother's fiance disappears and you get her back within hours? Your goddamn muse disappears and you send in an archangel to retrieve her within days? And I have to rot there for weeks!?"
"We tried!" Patrick said, his voice pathetic and pleading. "Joey, I promise we did. Michael tried to get to you but he couldn't get past Lucifer's wards. He said if we did anything else it would make Lucifer keep you longer. I'm sorry!"
"Shove your pity up your ass," Joey growled. "Oh and speaking of, guess who raped me while you were sitting around with your dick in your hand? That's right, fucking Lucifer. I was raped by Lucifer. And if I decide I want to talk to anyone about that, they're going to send me to a mental hospital. So you can fuck you goddamn pity, you fucking ass."
Patrick looked beyond crushed and he simply stared at Joey, speechless. Joey found himself annoyed Patrick wasn't talking. It was easier to yell at someone when they interacted. "He crucified me too. Had his minions play. They made me drink out of a toilet when I was so thirsty I thought I throat would crumble and fall apart." Talking this much was hurting his throat and his voice grew more raspy with every sentence.
"Joey, I- I'm so sor-" Patrick trailed off because he didn't want to pity him. "I wanted to do something. I wanted to save you."
"Yeah, well you didn't. And I don't want to know you any more." Something dark and twisty took over Joey's stomach, though he just chalked it up to starvation. He didn't want to admit to himself that he would miss the crazy-haired saint.
Patrick's eyes widened in shock. "Joey, wait-"
"No!" Joey yelled, as loudly as he could manage. "I don't want to talk to you again! Ever! I want you out of my life! You cost me a friend and now look at me. I can't walk, and I'm sick and everything hurts. I'm going to be stuck in here recovering for weeks too. And this is all because of you. Just...get out. You're toxic."
"Joey," Patrick cried.
"Get your fucking useless ass out of my hospital room!" Joey yelled at him again, the words tearing at his throat. "Or I will have them call hospital security on you. Don't come to see me. Don't send any of your fucking asshole friends. You're a shit saint! You're worthless! Get out," and Joey punctuated his last words by throwing his glass of water at Patrick. It shattered on the floor but not before soaking the saint quite thoroughly.
Patrick turned to go and Joey yelled to his retreating form, "if you ever come near me again I will call Lucifer and tell him where you are! I hate you! Fucking useless slave son of a bitch."
Then the door shut and Joey was alone. The room suddenly seemed very big. He was terribly thirsty and he had thrown his water away.
He called for a nurse but by the time someone came in to help him he had passed out and was deep asleep. They cleaned up the mess and set another glass up for him when he awoke. When he did wake up he was going to feel immensely guilty and just a little bit pleased.