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Patrick pokes his head into Pete's small apartment room, scanning the scene with his troubled blue eyes, and shuffles to the bed where the silhouette of a body lies. He sits on the top edge of the bed, fumbling around until he finds the lamp, and suddenly the room is illuminated with a soft light. A mess of hair slowly emerges from the blanket, and Pete's lifeless eyes meets Patrick's. Neither of them say anything, and eventually Pete gets too tired to keep his head up and lies back down on the pillow. Patrick stares for a moment, watching the blanket shift with Pete's uneven breaths, before he slips under with him. He rests his head against Pete's back, letting out a deep sigh.
"Why are you here?" Pete's hoarse voice croaks.
"I'm here for you." Patrick whispers, "We can get you help. It doesn't have to be like this, Pete. You can get better. You can-"
"I can't." Pete interrupts as he flips over to face Patrick. "I can't, okay? Maybe I like being like this. Maybe I like being alone. Maybe... Maybe I..."
Tears start to slip down Pete's cheeks, and his sobs shake his entire body. Patrick's hands come up to cup Pete's cheeks, wiping away tears with his thumbs.
"It's gonna be okay, I promise. We're gonna get you some help and-"
"I don't want help!" Pete suddenly shrieks, pulling himself away from Patrick's embrace. "I want to be left alone! You're trying to send me away! All of you are against me!"
Pete backs himself up to the corner, and Patrick approaches him with caution when he notices how dilated Pete's pupils are. Pete starts to hyperventilate and scratch at the walls around him. Patrick reaches out to him, setting a hand on his leg. Pete's head snaps up to look at Patrick, spitting at him in fury.
"Get away from me!" He screams, kicking his legs wildly. "You're not Patrick, get away from me! Where's my Patrick? Patrick!"
Pete suddenly goes very still. His head falls forward, as if he were asleep, but then he starts to laugh. He leans over to the side and vomits, laughing even more when he sees streaks of blood. His eyes flicker to Patrick, and he gets very quiet.
"What are you on?" Patrick asks, careful not to upset him again.
Pete's mouth twists into a smile, and he lifts his head just enough to meet Patrick's gaze.
"What am I not on?"
Patrick stands and pulls Pete to his feet, steadying him with a hand when he wobbles. He tucks Pete back into bed, pulling the blankets to his chin. He's starting to leave when Pete's hand shoots out from under the blanket and grabs a hold of his wrist.
"Patrick," he mumbles. "Compared to the world, what am I?"
"Compared to the world, you're more than enough for me." Patrick says, kissing the palm of Pete's hand.
Pete pulls his hand back, pressing it to his cheek. He flashes his teeth to Patrick before his eyes slip shut once more. Patrick waits until he's sure Pete is asleep before he sits back down on the edge of the bed. He leans down and presses a kiss to Pete's forehead, taking his hand into his own.
"I can't compare you to the world. You are the world. You're my world." Patrick whispers to Pete's sleeping form. "Do what you think is right. You know where I'll be."
Patrick stands up and turns out the light, looking back once at Pete before leaving. He takes a deep breath as he closes Pete's front door. He walks away from the apartment, praying to a god he doesn't believe in just to make sure Pete stays safe. He knows somewhere inside him that he did the right thing.
Hours later, Pete wakes up to sunlight filtering through the dirty curtains and filling the room, ceiling to the floor. He's coming down, and he doesn't know whether it's his organs or his emotions hurting him. He has an epiphany as he sits up in bed, and he knows what he has to do.
Throwing away the pills is the first thing. The second thing is calling Patrick.