Joseph Van der Berg (cup_of_joseph) wrote in nevermore_logs, @ 2010-12-26 02:25:00 |
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Entry tags: | joseph van der berg, saint patrick |
Who: Joseph Van der Berg and Saint Patrick
What: Reassuring poor Joey
When: Christmas Eve Night
Where: Joseph's apartment
Joseph didn't know what to think. It was hard enough just to function without thinking on top of it all. He was alone in his apartment, since his roommate Xavier always spent Christmas Eve night with his parents so they could have Christmas morning together. Last year Joseph had spent Christmas with Patrick and Neil. This year, Neil was dead and he had learned Patrick wasn't exactly normal. He was a saint. And the world had faeries and pixies and all manner of terrifying things Joseph couldn't cope with. He had meant to spend the night drunk or high, but he hadn't been able to bring himself to alter his state of consciousness.
He was too afraid of the consequences of that. Reality was suddenly scary enough.
When Patrick stepped into Joseph's lounge room, he had a laptop in his lap, and he was smoking a cigarette from his second pack that day. His hair was unkempt and he was wearing long johns and a t-shirt and he did not look very well put together at all.
"How did you get in?" Joey asked over his computer.
"You...gave me a key," Patrick replied, holding it aloft. "In case Xavier locked you out again? Remember? Clearly...you don't Would you like it back?"
"No," Joseph said with a shake of his head. He pushed his laptop off his lap and he spun it around to show Patrick what he had been reading. An article about Saint Patrick of Ireland. "I suppose if I can trust anyone with my keys, it's probably a saint, right?"
Patrick frowned and he shoved the keys into his pocket before placing a bag on Joseph's table. It was filled with something that smelled absolutely wonderful, but Joseph couldn't concentrate on food right now. "Read anything interesting?"
The fact that Patrick had lied to Joseph for a year really bothered him. Joseph had always assumed Patrick was absolutely honest with him because when you were with Patrick it was hard to believe otherwise. He came off as one of the kindest and most forthright people Joseph had ever met. But what if that was some kind of saint mojo?! What if he could trust Patrick about as much as he could apparently trust sweet and gorgeous Anya who had turned out to be Aine the Fairy Queen? It made Joseph feel like he had simultaneously discovered the world was a terrifying place, and lost everyone he might have turned to to help him through it.
"Just...stuff about you. Is this all true? Is your name Maewyn Succat and are you from some place called Bannaventa Berniae and did you cut druids heads off? And what about the snake thing, did you do that?!"
Patrick stepped forward and when Joseph didn't pull away, he sat down beside his friend. Joseph even let Patrick take his hand, though he put out his cigarette first, since it was smouldering away anyway. He wasn't afraid of Patrick, just upset. There was no harm in letting Patrick be personable.
"My name is Patrick and previously it has been Patricius or Padraig. Not Maewyn. I was a British Roman citizen, not Welsh, though some people do seem confused about that. I am from Bannaventa Berniae, at least as far as I know. I had to admit my memory- As I said, I don't remember a lot of that, but I'm working on it. I did...some things I wish I hadn't, and didn't do some things I wish I had. Just like every single other person on this planet, Joseph. And there were never any snakes in Ireland. Just so we're clear."
"But you were a slave?" Joseph asked, raising his eyes to meet Patrick's. Patrick didn't flinch, or look away, and Joseph had no way of knowing that was actually quite a feat. The idea of Patrick suffering like that was horrifying to Joseph, and it was hard to reconcile that with what he knew of his friend.
"I was," Patrick admitted. "But first I was a child of noblemen. And after...well, after is something I'm still filling in." Patrick gave Joseph's hand a squeeze. "And now, I am exactly the person you have known for the last year. The only thing that's different is that you know my past."
"But you lied to me," Joseph said, dropping Patrick's hand then. "Did Neil know?"
Patrick flinched and he looked down then. "No."
"So...when he was left for dead, all done up with decorations from Saint Patrick's Day, that was a message for you? And you didn't think of telling your other mortal friend that I might want to be careful or end up the same way?!"
Patrick bit his lip and he gave Joseph a sorrowful look. "Joey- I am so sorry. For what happened to Neil and for lying. I couldn't just tell you! You wouldn't have believed me. As for your safety...I had someone watching your apartment. I- I didn't want to lose you too."
Joseph furrowed his brow. He hadn't been expecting that. It actually made him feel a lot better. Even though he hadn't known the truth, Patrick had been looking out for him. "You had someone watching my apartment? Are they still there?"
"They're not still there. It was just after Neil. I don't think the person who hurt Neil is focused on me any more. And I wish he hadn't ever been in the first place."
Joseph sighed. "So...I'm just supposed to accept this totally ridiculous knowledge that you're a fucking Saint and you're from like year three hundred something, and you're dating John the Baptist as normal so we can still be friends?!"
Patrick leaned forward, his hands hanging between his knees. "Joey, I can't tell you what to do. I don't want to. I know..." Patrick heaved a heavy sigh. "I came to America with the Irish people in the 1700s, and that meant leaving my brothers behind. They came too, though I didn't know when or where they were. I was focused on helping my own people as I'm sure they were. I spent almost 300 years without them. In that time I did have a few friends I spent a decade or two with here or there. But mostly, I've been alone. And then four years ago I met Neil and we came here and met you. My family is back now, but that doesn't make my friendship with you less important to me. Joey, it doesn't matter who I am. You still matter to me."
Joey couldn't honestly understand how he could. Not with everything he had been learning about Saint Patrick. "Why?"
"Because I love you," Patrick replied easily. Joseph raised his eyebrows and Patrick actually chuckled, which made Joseph smile. "Because my life has been long and lonely and people as kind and wonderful as you aren't something you pass up. Because you're my friend, Joseph."
"Okay, okay, you don't have to write a novel," Joseph said, but he felt better. He mattered to someone who had been alive since 387. He mattered to a patron saint of an entire country. And Patrick explaining all that did make Joseph sure it wasn't saint mojo Patrick was using on him. Joseph believed he was speaking from the heart. "You really care that much? I'm not just some...blip on your radar?"
"Not...even a little bit," Patrick assured him. "Joseph, I am here on Christmas Eve. With you. I am not letting you spend it alone. Not after the week you've had. I brought food and I think we should eat it, and we can do whatever you want whether that's talking more about this or watching some ridiculous thing on television."
"You don't want to spend Christmas Eve with your boyfriend?" Joseph asked, incredulous.
Patrick smiled warmly and Joseph noticed his cheeks colouring. It was adorable. "I hardly plan on ignoring John. He'll be well taken care of."
"OooooHOOOOO, well!" Joseph grinned, wiggling his eyebrows at Patrick. "Will he now!?"
"Joseph Van der Berg, you get your mind out of the gutter!" Patrick scolded him, though the look on Joseph's face told him he was right on the money.
"Or you'll zap me with your saintly powers?"
Patrick snorted. "Yes, Joseph. I will halo you to a shiny death. I will bury you in sheep and Irish stew. And just you watch for my mighty potato attack."
"Can you turn water into beer?" Joseph asked, remembering John's miracle with the hot chocolate into holy water.
Patrick made a face. "I hope if I can, that I never find out. Here," Patrick retrieved the bag of food from the table beside them. "Chinese. I got a selection. And your presents are in my bag as well. Joey, are you going to be okay?"
Joseph pulled one of the white takeaway boxes out of the bag and he looked up at his friend. "This is weird," he answered honestly. "But suddenly I understand why you panic when I ask if you want to smoke weed with me, and why you never really dated before now. You sort of...make more sense, even if the world makes less. So I guess...I will be. If I never get turned into a chipmunk ever, ever again."
"I would volunteer to speak with Aine, but I actually think that might make it worse," Patrick said, sounding apologetic.
"No...I should talk to her. Once I'm not terrified any more. How about this? If I'm not okay, I'll tell you and we'll deal with it? And if I'm not all too terribly excited about trusting you for a while, you'll understand and not hold it against me?"
"Joseph...of course I wouldn't."
Joseph nodded then. Because as freaked out as he was by all this, knowing that he had a friend on his side who just happened to be the Saint Patrick...it did help. Knowing John the Baptist couldn't hurt either, for sure. Even with the lying and the strangeness, he believed now that he could get through that. "Okay then."
"Okay!" Patrick reached for the food himself then, looking relieved.
"Hey, Patrick?" Joseph asked absently, staring at his sweet and sour chicken.
"Mmm?" Patrick asked, chopsticks sticking out of his mouth as he searched the white boxes for the one with rice in it.
"So that tall hunk of a man who said was your brother when you were in the hospital? Who was he?"
Patrick slowly removed his chopsticks from his mouth. "Ah. He's Saint George. Patron Saint of England."
Joseph nodded. "Right. And your little roommate?"
"Saint David of Wales," Patrick answered, wincing a little.
"Got it." Joseph paused for a moment and then he reached for the tiny packets of soy sauce. "I'm going to need you to draw me a diagram."
Patrick let out a relieved laugh and he promised to do just that.