Chapter Text
The next few weeks were, as Stevie warned they would be, a deep dive into an enormous bucket of suck.
Patrick had nowhere to go but home, and Stevie told him that was for the best. “Hide out at your parents’ for a while. Eat ice cream. Watch The Fast and the Furious…” she paused and gave Patrick an appraising look. “I mean Bull Durham until your eyes bleed. And stay off the internet.”
He didn’t know why he was still listening to Stevie, but he didn’t know what else to do. And Stevie had told him, “I thought David deserved better.”
“Look,” she said as she drove him to LAX, “Sebastien is an utter shit. But David has all the facts in front of him. If David doesn’t think David is worth saving, there’s not anything you or I can do. Because God knows I tried. So, let me at least take care of things for you. I’ll be your shield from Ronnie and the network and Good Morning America.”
“Good Morning America?”
“Or TMZ, or whatever. Deactivate your Facebook, don’t think any reporters are your friends. And Patrick? Stop blaming yourself.”
Patrick rubbed his eyes. He hadn’t slept much. “I should have known,” he said. “I should have figured out that David would never pick me.”
“We both know that’s a load of crap. But I don’t just mean everything that happened on the show. Stop blaming yourself for not coming out sooner, or not telling your parents in whatever you think would have been the right way. Let yourself be happy. Not that I’m the expert, but I think you are one of those rare humans with the ability to be happy, and it would be a shame for that to go to waste.”
Patrick had the sudden, painful realization that Stevie was his only friend right now. “Do you think David knows how to be happy?” he asked.
Stevie shook her head. “Not right now. But maybe someday.”
***
Patrick’s father picked him up at the airport. Clint gave him a quick hug and held him at arms’ length, like he was trying to gauge exactly what Patrick needed from him. Patrick was torn between wanting to fall into his father’s arms like a little kid, and to try and continue to be the cool, sexy, comfortable-in-his-skin gay guy from the show.
Well, guess which won out.
Clint and Marcy were so gentle with him. They fed him and sat Patrick between them on the couch as they watched Househunters, and he went with Marcy to Shoprite and pushed the cart. When he was ready to talk, they were ready to listen, and they not only forgave him immediately, but insisted there was nothing to forgive.
Patrick gave them the barest sketch of David: a guy he liked, rich and sophisticated but nice, thought Patrick was cute, and Patrick read too much into the situation. Even with these few words, they knew what it meant. Marcy got a cheesecake out of the avocado green fridge and set it on the kitchen table with three forks.
“Just like on The Golden Girls, right?” Marcy laughed. “I always suspected you were more of a Blanche than a Rose.”
Patrick almost laughed, too. For the first time in a few days, the pain was bearable. He stuck his fork in the cheesecake.
***
Later that week, he had a text from Ted. Stevie gave me your number, it read. I hope that’s okay. I heard a little bit of what happened. Sorry. Text me if you want to talk about anything besides Mr. Right, ok?
To Patrick’s surprise, he did want to talk. Ted was so earnest and positive, and soon they were texting every day. Nothing more than friendship, though—Ted was handsome and sweet, but Patrick realized he needed someone with more shades and rough edges to their personality to balance his own desire for everything to be neat and orderly. Plus, Ted admitted that he was more attracted to women these days, and he may have let his business rivalry with Miguel push him into applying for the show.
It was nice to have another friend.
***
Stevie stayed in touch. She got him out of the reunion show. She warned him again to stay offline as the Mr. Right finale approached.
But a few days later she emailed him a video attachment with the message: I thought you should see this.
Patrick was pretty sure it was a clip from Final Kiss Extravaganza, where Mr. Right faced the final two suitors and chose, maybe even proposed to, one of them. Stevie probably wanted him to be in private when he saw David tell Sebastien that he loved him and that they belonged together. She wanted to help him move on.
Patrick didn’t want to watch it. His finger hovered above the play icon. Finally, pressed it. He couldn’t help it. He wanted to see David again so much that it overpowered all his self-preservation. Maybe he would detect the slightest tremor in David’s voice, or a small crease by his eyes, that he could read as a sign that somehow, very deep down, David was thinking of him.
He wasn’t prepared for what he saw.
The video quality was poorer than usual, like it was shot from a phone. David lay on his side in bed, on top of the covers. He was wearing a tuxedo shirt but no jacket, and his bow tie was untied. Patrick was so used to seeing David perfectly put together that it was shockingly intimate to see him like this.
He heard Stevie’s voice off-camera. “David, the Final Kiss Extravaganza is in a few days. You have a big decision ahead of you. Tell me what you like about Miguel.”
David looked tired. “Miguel is handsome and kind. He has very good table manners. He cares a lot about children and animals...Fuck, Stevie, why are we doing this now? You’re just using your iPhone—what are you even going to do with this?”
“I told you, I want you to run through your responses before the real thing so you can come up with something better than ‘very good table manners.’ Let’s pretend there’s some mystery here about who you’re choosing,” said Stevie. David scowled at her, but Stevie’s voice persisted. “Tell me what you like about Sebastien.”
David was quiet for a moment. Finally, he stared directly into the camera. “I don’t like Sebastien,” he said. He looked surprised at himself, but he kept going. “Sebastien is not a nice person. I didn’t think that it mattered, but it turns out it does.”
“Why does it matter?” said Stevie’s voice.
“Because...fuck off about the complete sentences, Stevie, no one is seeing this...because maybe I’d like to be with someone who actually likes me. Someday. If such a person could exist, and I could manage not to make them hate me within a few weeks.”
“I like you,” said Stevie’s deadpan voice, “And I’ve seen you make some very foolish choices recently.”
David gave her a sad half-smile.
“So, what are you going to do?” she asked.
“I have no fucking idea,” David said.
The video cut out.
Patrick deleted it.
Maybe David was questioning ending up with Sebastien, but Patrick wasn’t getting his hopes up again. It hurt too much.
***
Patrick wanted to get out of the house. Just for one evening. So, when some of his old friends called and asked him to host the monthly open mic night that Patrick helped start years ago, he said yes.
When Patrick arrived at the bar, he was taken aback to see the sign:
“Open Mic Tonight- Hosted by Mr. Right’s Patrick Brewer! All proceeds to the Trevor Project.”
Patrick realized how lucky he had been so far to avoid any publicity, and he had a moment of doubt about putting himself out there for the night. He’d insisted that all the money go to an LGBTQ nonprofit—if he could raise some money for queer kids and get some butts in the seats for his friends, at least any name recognition he had would mean something. Maybe he could actually help some people, and not just his friends.
Friends. Patrick was thinking a lot about what that meant. The open mic guys knew he was gay now, and they said they didn’t care. So, they were friends. But it bothered him that they never asked about why he hadn’t told them years ago, and they kept asking him stupid questions about the show, mostly revolving around if there were hidden cameras in the bathrooms. And they hadn’t been in touch until they needed him for the event.
It felt kind of like...they were using him. And he was letting them, for the greater good of helping gay kids. Life was complicated.
Patrick dropped his guitar and equipment backstage, and saw a text from Stevie. Good luck tonight, it read. Hope you’re wearing that blue shirt.
Patrick was a little puzzled by the last part—Stevie didn’t offer fashion advice. But he and Stevie texted a lot, and not always about the show now. She protected him from the reunions and the talk show circuit, and he knew she must have taken a lot of heat from the network for it. She was definitely a friend.
Surprisingly, so was Ted. There he was now, walking into the bar looking absolutely delighted to see Patrick, but Patrick knew that Ted looked delighted about most things. Tell that to his parents, though—they were already not-so-secretly hoping for a Patrick-Ted pairing.
Thinking of his parents still twisted Patrick’s gut. The way he sent them a letter announcing he was gay and then disappeared to Los Angeles for weeks, and then reappeared silent and broken-hearted, asking for his old room back. It was unforgivable, but of course they had forgiven him. They gave him more patience and love than he ever felt he deserved. Maybe, eventually, he could deserve it.
They were also here tonight, Cliff and Marcy, wearing rainbow pride flag pins. They arrived and waved happily to Patrick and Ted, picking up their Diet Cokes at the bar before joining them at the table.
Rachel was not in the friend category, unfortunately. I forgive you, but I’m still trying to understand. I can’t talk yet, she texted him. Maybe someday.
Patrick looked around the table fondly. His friend who knew about the most humiliating, heartbreaking moment of his life and still showed up for him. His parents who truly just cared for his own happiness. He was so lucky. If only David had known this kind of love. If he’d been surrounded by people with his best interests at heart, instead of those who wanted things from him. If only. If only so many things.
When Patrick saw the tall, dark-haired man enter the bar, his rational mind told him that because he was thinking about David Rose, of course he would think that this man of similar size and coloring was David Rose. But the man stepped into the light, and Patrick’s brain caught up with his eyes. It was really David, at a small-town open mic night in a dive bar on a Wednesday.
What. Was. Happening.
A pretty young woman barged through the door, clearly trying to catch up with David. David whispered intensely to her, and she gave him an irritated eye roll and flicked a honey-colored wave of hair in his face. Patrick smiled despite his shock. That must be Alexis.
Just when it couldn’t get any stranger, Stevie came running in, looking harried and out of breath. Once she saw David and Alexis, she started looking around the room.
Ted noticed Patrick’s frozen smile and followed his stare. “Oh my God,” Ted said. “I didn’t think he’d do it.”
“Do what?” said Marcy. “Patrick, what’s going on?”
Patrick couldn’t answer. He looked at Ted, then at David, then Stevie, then back to Ted. “What should I do?” he asked, as a mix of elation, panic, and fear battled in his stomach. Ted shrugged and gave him a supportive pat on the shoulder.
He had to look at David again. David was dressed beautifully, as always. His elegant dark blue suit with some kind of brocade pattern was so out of place that it just added to how surreal the whole situation felt. He looked like a movie star there in the dive bar, or he would have if he didn’t look so nervous, his shoulders tense and hands fluttering. As he looked closer, Patrick could see David was slightly disheveled. His hair was a little flat on one side, and his tie was askew. Patrick’s brain couldn’t put the pieces of the puzzle together. David. Here. Stevie. Messy hair.
David finally saw Patrick. Their eyes met. Patrick tried to get up, or open his mouth, or do something, but he stayed frozen in his seat. David walked over, Alexis trailing behind him with big, excited eyes. Stevie hovered in the background, avoiding eye contact.
“Hi,” said David.
“Hi,” said Patrick.
They looked at each other. Clint looked at Marcy, Marcy looked at Ted, Ted looked at...Alexis? Stevie looked at the floor. Finally, Alexis gave an exasperated sigh and stepped in front of David, offering her hand. “Hello, I am Alexis Rose, David’s sister as well as his relationship advisor. You must be Patrick.”
Patrick took her hand. She had David’s expressive hands, and height, and good looks, but also a relaxed confidence that was all her own.
“Hi, Alexis,” said Patrick, grateful to have something to say. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“And I you,” she pronounced graciously, but then her face changed to a worried, vulnerable look. “Actually,” she whispered, “David hasn’t told me much of anything. But I saw the episode where you yelled about having diarrhea, poor thing, and David said you did it to get him a break from the cameras.”
“So I’m the diarrhea guy after all,” said Patrick, mostly to himself.
Stevie finally looked up and gave him an apologetic shrug. “Ronnie was pretty unhappy with me for not getting any crying-in-the-limo footage of you leaving. I had to do something to keep my job.”
Alexis raised her eyebrows impatiently. “So anyway, we were filming the Final Kiss Extravaganza, and Stevie had me there for moral support and to add some flair, and David told Miguel he was very sweet but they weren’t a match, and when he heard that Sebastien moved in to kiss David, but then David pushed him and Sebastien fell into a rosebush, and the medics had to remove the thorns from his hands and...other places. So then David grabbed me and Stevie and said we were going to the airport and getting the next flight to...I’m sorry, I have no idea where we are.”
Patrick stood up and took a step towards David. “Is that true?”
“More or less.” His eyes were soft, and his voice was gentle. It was almost unbearable. “Patrick, I was hoping we could talk.”
“You mean...here? Could we go somewhere private? Backstage?”
David nodded, and Patrick walked across the bar, letting David follow and trying not to check and see if people were staring. They had to climb up onto the stage to get to the quiet room Patrick had in mind, and he offered David a hand to pull him up.
The moment their hands touched, Patrick realized he didn’t want to let go. He wasn’t totally sure why David was there. Did David want him to come back to the show? Maybe stage some kind of confrontation with Sebastien, or invite him to make an appearance at one of the Rose hotels? Patrick suddenly felt so tired. He was done with Mr. Right. He didn’t want the cameras, or the mics, or Ronnie. He wanted David so much, but it was like David was behind a wall and there was so way to get to him.
They found an empty room, where Patrick had been tuning his guitar earlier.
“So, how have you been?” asked David after an awkward silence.
“Great,” said Patrick automatically. “Or pretty good at least. My parents have been amazing. I've been hiding out at home, trying to figure out my next step. Maybe open my own business, if I can figure out the right concept.” David nodded thoughtfully, as if he’d come just to hear about Patrick’s vague business plan. “But forget about that. It’s good to see you.”
David pressed his fingers to his mouth and gave a little nod. “You, too,” he said.
Patrick thought about all the love and support he’d been given in the last months. He thought about his parents, and his true friends, and his open mic buddies. “I didn’t know if I’d ever have the chance to say this,” said Patrick, “but I’m sorry.”
David’s hands dropped to his sides. “You’re sorry,” he said. “What are you even saying? I took advantage of you on a network tv show. I knew I couldn’t pick you, and I knew you were falling for me, and I let it all happen, because I enjoyed every second we spent together so much. Because I wanted to pretend that I was the kind of person who does what his heart tells him to do, instead of listening to other people.”
“David,” choked Patrick. It was the only word he could remember right now.
“So, I’m the one who’s sorry,” retorted David, his voice almost angry. “Sorry that I wasn’t more honest with you. You have nothing to be sorry about.”
“No, I do,” said Patrick. “I didn’t think about things from your side. Yes, I was hurt, and angry, for a while. But then I remembered what you told me about Alexis, how much you take care of her. That’s you, David. You take care of people. You were taking care of your family. And I know you were taking care of me, too, the best way you could. You stopped me when I started to tell you some things that would really have hurt me in the long run.”
Patrick remembered how David cut him off when Patrick tried to say that he was falling in love with him. Patrick saw the beginnings of tears in David’s eyes and could tell he was remembering, too. He still wasn’t sure what all this meant, why David was apologizing to him, but he knew he loved how soft David’s face was right now.
“Sebastien and I aren’t together,” said David. “He’s not a very nice person. I didn’t think that would matter, but it turns out, it did.”
“I’m glad,” said Patrick. “That it mattered.” His heart was starting to race.
“I want to start over. The money from the show will get me out of debt. I’m going to tell my parents I can’t help them with the hotels. And I told Alexis that I need her to stay in the country for the next six months.” David gave his eyebrows an exasperated lift. “Do you know that she’s been in LA this whole time, while I’ve been so worried about her? She was recording an album or something and said she needed artistic solitude.”
“I’m glad I finally met her,” said Patrick. “But David, why are you here? How are you here?”
“This bar kept tagging the show and tagging me in all the announcements about tonight. It was perhaps a bit of an overreach. I think they need a new social media director.”
Patrick smiled, knowing that the social media director was Fred the bartender.
“I knew you’d be here.” David looked directly at Patrick, and his voice became strangely calm. “And I was hoping that you would forgive me. I think about you all the time, and I remember how it felt when I hit that home run”—Patrick didn’t correct him on that one—“How I felt so alive. That’s how I feel when we’re together. And that first time we met, I told you I didn’t want you to sing at me. But now I want that so much, Patrick. If you were singing at me, I would like it. So that’s why I’m here.”
Patrick felt something release in his chest, a tight bud of hope starting to bloom. David’s face was so painfully open, so vulnerable, Patrick was worried that even kind words would be too much right now. “Hmmm,” he said, trying to keep his face very serious. “What if I got up on stage and dedicated a song to you?”
David swallowed carefully. “That would be fine.”
Patrick felt a smile begin to play on his lips. “What if I said, ‘This one goes out to a special guy here tonight, Mr. David Rose’? And then I pointed you out in the audience?”
David’s face was frozen in a determinedly neutral expression. “I would like that very much,” he answered.
“And then,” teased Patrick, “I asked everyone in the bar to join me in singing your favorite song, ‘Teenage Dream’ by Katy Perry? The extended remix version?”
“Okay, first of all there is no so-called ‘extended remix version…’” blurted David, until he saw the look on Patrick’s face. “Oh.”
Patrick finally did what he’d wanted to do from the moment David walked into the bar: he slipped his arms around David’s waist into the particular spot where they fit so well. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he whispered, and leaned in for a softer, sweeter kiss than he ever imagined. David melted into his arms, his lips on Patrick’s lips, and Patrick was sure he felt David smiling.
EPILOGUE
“I hope you’ll continue by my side on this journey of exploring our hearts,” said Jake to Aidan R., a handsome young mixologist/tarot card reader. He was very sincere, yet he still managed to make it sound a little dirty.
“Ewww!” shrieked Alexis happily. Patrick threw popcorn at the television. Ted said, “That guy must mix a great COCK-tail, if you know what I mean.” David just shook his head and nestled in closer to Patrick on the couch.
Patrick hadn’t been sure if they would watch the next season of Mr. Right, but when Jake the carpenter was announced as the fan favorite and the next pick for the show, David said that of course they had to. The viewing parties with Ted and Alexis had quickly become his favorite part of the week.
“Oh my God, David, how many times did you kiss him?” asked Alexis. “He’s so hot in a dumb and selfish way, kind of like when Chris Pratt and I were in Dubrovnik when he was still fat.”
“I’ve blocked it out,” said David. “But I will say only that Stevie may have been sampling that merchandise behind the scenes, if you know what I mean. Patrick, where’s my phone? I have to text Stevie and make sure she’s still coming to visit when the show finishes.”
They were in Patrick and David’s cozy little apartment in Schitt’s Creek, of all places. Ted was from there, and Alexis went to visit a few times. She was the one that told them about the general store for sale, and how cheap it was, and how much the town needed some kind of new business to raise the morale of the poor inhabitants, who were otherwise forced to go to something called the Cafe Tropicale, which made smoothies out of random kitchen scraps.
David’s Mr. Right money was almost enough to cover start-up costs. Patrick wrote a business plan and some grant applications for the Rose Apothecary. David swore that small town life was just what he wanted, in a place where people would see him every day and quickly forget he was part of the Rose family, or on a dating show, and he could blend in. As much as David ever could blend in, Patrick thought fondly.
They watched Jake work his way through the row of suitors, offering lingering kisses. David’s phone rang.
“Hi Marcy,” David said, and listened for a moment. “I totally agree, Matthew is out this week. The way he tried to tell Jake that Jaden M. wasn’t here for the right reasons really backfired on him. Oh, I know. Okay, talk to you later.” He put the phone down and put his arm around Patrick. “Your mom says hi.”
Seeing the men lined up for the Final Kiss still gave Patrick a pang. He remembered how hopeful he had been in those moments, how eager for love to find him, how desperate to become the person he wished he could be.
Patrick finally got his fresh start. He blew up his life, stomped on the pieces, put it back together with a few of the parts upside down. He lost some friends but made new, better ones. He ripped his heart out of his body to give to another person, and they guarded it carefully and made him realize he had more love inside him than he ever knew.
“Thank you for leaving the show,” whispered David in his ear, “And for making me see how terrible it all was, so I had to come find you.”
“Thanks for coming to find me,” Patrick whispered back. “I love you.”
David squeezed his hand three times, their secret code for ‘I love you.’ It was still hard for David to say the words sometimes, but that was fine. He knew how David felt.
That night, after Ted and Alexis went home, David and Patrick got ready for bed. David was an uninhibited sleeper, and as he dozed off his body curled around Patrick’s like a baby’s fist around a finger.
“Thank you for continuing by my side on this journey of exploring our hearts,” Patrick murmured into David’s neck and inhaled deeply. Bergamot. Juniper. Home.