Patrick shrugged, leaning back against the sofa with David's hand still in his. He watched his brother with glazed eyes while he held the peas to his face with his other hand.
"I don't know, Dewi. I didn't mean to hide. I just didn't think- This isn't me," he said, referring to the bar fights and the drunkenness. "I'm a saint, not a drunk." It did help to know David wasn't ashamed of him. More than he could ever say. He was more worried, however, that God would be ashamed.