Saint Patrick ☘ (shamrocked_) wrote in nevermore_logs, @ 2010-12-22 11:10:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | saint agatha, saint patrick |
Who: Saints Patrick and Agatha
What: A call for help and possibly a 'why did you leave the no porn club, mister?' chat
When: Tuesday afternoon
Where: The library and then where ever they happen to go
It was getting to him now. He had gone from getting fall down drunk at least twice a week to not drinking enough to really get drunk for over a month. Regulating his drinking worked for a time, and the truth was that if he had the willpower, he could probably make it continue to work. It was hard and it hurt. Patrick felt hollow and desperate. He drank glass after glass of water to keep himself distracted from just wanting to get absolutely shitfaced drunk, but in the end he gave in.
Almost.
Patrick spoke to Alcohol herself, asking why she had been silent. More than anything, he just wanted to speak to her. He needed that contact, to at least try to fill up the void drinking less had left him with. But it hadn't helped. And after their short conversation, Patrick had left the apartment with a lame excuse, seeking out alcohol in an attempt to stave off the goddess herself.
He was halfway to his favourite bottle shop when good sense kicked him in the brain and he turned into the nearest public building; a branch of the New York Public Library. He couldn't give in now. He didn't want to. He could go home and talk to John about what he was feeling and they could adjust their tactics to something that was better than this. That would have been the way to go about it from the beginning.
But at least he stopped.
Patrick didn't trust himself to turn back and actually make it to his apartment without stopping in somewhere to buy something even slightly alcoholic. He knew he could call John at any time and for any reason, but he didn't know if John was still at his apartment and the last person Patrick wanted knowing where he was, was his little brother. David had said that the sacrifice of his pinky was worth everything if Patrick continued to get better and here he was nearly slipping.
George and Sebastian had enough going on, and Andrew had Peter back in town now. Patrick dialled Agatha's number, knowing that she would calm him down, possibly take him out for some lunch, and they could go back to his apartment later where he would discuss things with John.
When Agatha answered, Patrick sighed into the phone. "Hey, Aggie. I hate to bother you, but it appears I need a baby sitter."
Somehow Agatha had dozed off on her couch after work and the ringing of her phone startled her from what had been a very colourful dream involving George and the slaying of a man-eating unicorn. (George had also been wearing a silver lamé catsuit and Agatha wasn't sure what her subconscious was trying to tell her there.)
She picked up the phone and at Patrick's voice frowned. "Are you alright?" she asked, already standing up and going to get her coat. Whatever was happening it didn't sound like he was in immediate danger and she was glad that - even with secrets being kept from her - Patrick felt he could call her.
"I'm alright, just stupid," Patrick admitted, because it was true. "I was on my way to drink until I fell over. I managed to hole myself up in here," Patrick repeated the address for her quickly. "I just need to be distracted. I'm sorry." He could tell she sounded sleepy. "I hate being a burden. I always did love Agatha-distraction, though."
voice. "Of course I'll come and be an Agatha distraction. I'm really glad you called me. I need to hang up and call a taxi though but I'll be there in about twenty minutes, Patrick."
"Of course I would call you. Thanks so much, Aggie," Patrick said with a smile in his own voice. He hung up and relocated himself to the biography section and spent his time wisely.
He found no less than four biographies about himself, which he had all checked out by the time Agatha arrived.
"I'm here!" Agatha told him brightly, although as she was standing right in front of him it probably wasn't needed. Then she hugged him tightly before saying anything else.
Patrick hugged Agatha back, glad she was here with him. All this was hard enough without being alone. "Thank you for coming," he said warmly when he finally released her. "Are you hungry? I can take you out for lunch for baby sitting me."
"Lunch would be great," Agatha beamed, trying not to ask if if she could help him with anything going on inside his head. "I think I forgot it today."
"Well, we'd best remedy that," Patrick said, taking her hand into his. There was a quiet cafe around the corner and Patrick led Agatha right to it, ducking inside. They ordered and then sat down in the corner, far away from everyone.
Patrick watched out the window for a while and then he smiled at his friend. "I got a couple books about me at the library. I thought it might drum up a few memories."
Agatha was pleased to hear that and she smiled warmly at him. "Any luck so far?" she asked. Agatha couldn't imagine how horrible it must be not to remember parts of your life. Maybe the last few months of hers hadn't been something most people would want to remember, but Agatha knew her martyrdom was the most important part of her life.
"A little," Patrick said vaguely. "There's parts I don't want to remember, but I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. How have you been? It's been a while since I've seen you. Which I do not like!"
"I don't like it either," Agatha lamented. "I feel like a million different things could have happened in our lives and we wouldn't even know!"
Like John the Baptist, perhaps.
Patrick smiled softly and then his smile faded to a frown. He was thinking about Dewi's missing finger and not about John at all. "Like Morrigna attacks? Augh. I'm glad they're leaving me alone now."
"I'm glad too," Agatha said quickly, not meaning that at all. She looked down at her coffee, feeling awkward. "I was thinking more... romance."
Patrick's eyes snapped up and he stared at Agatha for a moment while his stomach did a somersault. Before he could think about it too much, he said, "you di- N...no. You mean me. You mean John. Don't you?"
Agatha gave the tiniest of nods and hoped she wasn't beginning to blush. The very idea of it was... not comforting. "Yes," she said quietly. "I mean John."
The first thing Patrick wanted to do was ask who had told Agatha, but he found then that he didn't really want to know. In the end, it didn't matter anyway. Patrick wasn't hiding, he just hadn't said anything yet. "I wasn't keeping it a secret," he said quietly. He had told Joseph he had someone on Joey's journal. "What do you want to know?"
Oh, she didn't want to know anything about it! Not like that! She took a sip of her coffee to try and gather her thoughts. "I'm worried," she finally admitted, looking up at her friend. "I'm scared that... It's only that he suddenly appeared here in our lives when you were feeling very vulnerable and then he's... I'm concerned," she finished with.
Patrick arched his eyebrows, though he didn't take offence to what she had said. "What are you concerned about?" he asked gently. "He came to me when I needed help. And he is helping. So much."
"You know I love you," Agatha prefaced her next words with. "And you know I-" she sighed. "I'm worried that he's... taking advantage of you."
"Tak- Taking advantage?! Agatha, w...what do you mean? John's only ever helped me. He's been amazing. He's so careful not to...er...not to do anything I'm not uhm...ready for." Patrick felt ridiculous saying this to Agatha because he knew she didn't go in for saints being together, nor did she agree with homosexuality. He was okay with that. He didn't need her consent here. What he did worry about, however, was his friend thinking he was getting used by someone he was completely falling for.
"It's just that he suddenly appeared and then I hear that you're both... uh, intimate. It just happened so quickly and without warning and... I suppose I thought you'd tell me." She sounded a little hurt.
"Aggie," he said, reaching for her hand. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know you would want to know. He's wonderful. He's gentle and reassuring and very kind. He makes me feel like...I'm not a completely worthless person."
"Patrick," Agatha said, horrified and upset as she squeezed his hand. "Oh... Patrick you're one of the least worthless people I've ever met." She felt horrible now that she'd never let Patrick know that. She should have shown him!
Patrick smiled gently at Agatha and he squeezed her hand right back. "Thank you," he said, because he appreciated that she thought so. "I always knew other people saw worth in me, but I didn't feel it. Finally around John, I feel it. It's...not easy to explain, but- I called you today," Patrick said, hoping he could explain this well enough. "I called you to tell you that I needed help and I never could have done that before John. Clearly. I've been so much better since he moved in to help me. He...makes me see myself. And that makes me want to get through this. Because I actually want to be me instead of wanting to hide from me."