|Saint Patrick ☘ (shamrocked_) wrote in nevermore_logs,|
@ 2012-10-02 18:51:00
|Entry tags:||saint patrick, wrath|
WHO: Wrath and Patrick
WHAT: Having one of my favourite conversations ever
WHEN: Tuesday afternoon
WHERE: Wrath's place
WARNINGS: Mentions of self-loathing, self-harm, language
Somehow it felt wrong, but Patrick found himself knocking on Wrath's door anyway. And then as he waited, he really hoped no one would be home.
No such luck.
Wrath pulled the door open and there was silence between them for a moment before Wrath finally said, "what the hell?" in place of a greeting.
'What the hell' was a pretty good question, actually. Patrick bit his lip while he tried to figure out how he could possibly explain how he found himself on her doorstep. "I...I was at work and all I could think of was-" Patrick cleared his throat. "Can I come in and do you promise not to kill me?"
"Yeah," Wrath said, her voice clearly indicating her annoyance. She held the door open for him anyway and Patrick moved past her. She pointed towards the sofa in the living room and he sat uncomfortably.
"I'm sorry, I just-" He could either dance around the subject and stammer away, or he could get straight to the point. "I was at work and all I could think about was going to see Jude. He's the man who-" Patrick waved his hands around because he didn't really want to talk about rough sex in such blunt terms with Wrath.
"Mister Whippy?" Wrath asked, collapsing into the chair opposite of Patrick.
"That's...a way to put it. Yeah. Him."
"So you want someone to hurt you then? I'm not gonna fucking do it."
"Heh." Patrick pulled his hands inside his sleeves and he balled up his fists. "No, that's not why I'm here. I...I would rather you didn't hurt me. I just couldn't stop thinking about him and I didn't think texting you was going to be enough. And I can't burden my brother with this every single time I want to run off and remove myself from the lives of people I love because I think I'm worthless to them. I'd be calling him constantly."
Wrath pulled her knees up to her chest and she rested her chin on them. Bent like that, she didn't look half as intimidating. "Right. What does Mister Whippy give you?"
Patrick's eyes widened. "Uh...usually at the end he gives me a-"
"Fucking christ, Patrick. If you tell me about your happy endings I will pull your stupid hair out. I mean what feeling does he give you that no one else does."
"Oh right. Sorry. Uhm. I don't know. It's hard to define. He makes me forget everything else. Makes me feel better because someone else is taking over loathing me. Means I don't have to."
Wrath ran her fingers through her hair and she nodded. "Yeah. I feel you. So you have to fucking find something else that makes you feel that way. Something that doesn't make you all bruised the fuck up, hmm?"
"Just...distract me, okay?"
Wrath arched her eyebrows. "You want me to distract you?" Patrick nodded quickly and Wrath wrinkled her face up. "Uh...I could take you brush shopping?"
"Hah hah, my hair is messy."
"Looks like a bomb went off in it," she said pointedly. "But fine, if you think my brush shopping idea is gay. Seriously isn't there something you do that you are, you know...happy with?"
Patrick had to think about that because he was so used to concentrating on the bad things. "Well, I...I help people find their places here after the leave Ireland."
Wrath rolled her eyes. "And you changed the history of an entire country, you idiot."
"That...feels like it was done by somebody else." And considering the religious troubles Ireland was still experiencing, he did feel guilt over that.
"Well it wasn't, genius. It was you. God picked you. No one picked me, I just showed up and I'm fucking stuck here and it sucks old man balls, okay. You got chosen because you're motherfucking special. And FUCK do you whine a lot. You whine more than Greed, okay. You should be embarrassed about that."
Did he really whine that much? Oh god...
"So seriously, suck it up. Because you're needed or whatever. You have responsibilities and you can't do them if you're all 'Oh Mister Whippy, hit me harder' or what the fuck ever you weird saints do to tell yourself you're not sinning." Patrick was just staring at Wrath, slightly open-mouthed. "So get over yourself. You want some tea?"
Patrick had to remember to close his mouth and then he just nodded. He had just been told he was being selfish by a sin.
He really had some soul-searching to do.