Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Patrick Brewer wakes up in the same bed he’s had since he was fifteen. His walls are barren now, his hockey and baseballs posters taken down, the once bright blue walls are now white. His furniture is still where it’s always been, a study desk, a dresser and the twin bed he’s currently in now. It was the perfect room for a fifteen year old boy. But Patrick was now a thirty year old amnesiac with no job and no idea where his life was going, or where it’s even been.

His head hurts, as it has almost every day for the last six months since his accident. An accident he has no recollection of.

According to his parents, he was sideswiped on the highway, his car tumbling down into a ditch. He suffered from a major concussion and his left leg was nearly shattered from the crash, but according to his doctors Patrick is very lucky to be alive. But not lucky enough to have retained a large chunk of his memories.

He’s spent the last six months in recovery, attending his physical therapy sessions at least three times a week and meeting with his therapist every Thursday afternoon. His parents tell him there’s no rush to leave the house, to take all the time he needs. But Patrick does want to rush. He wants to go towards something, anything. But he doesn’t know what.

Patrick rubs his eyes with the palms of his hands, groaning as he feels his pulsating headache. He swings his legs around, his feet burrowing into the carpet below him. He rests his head in his hands as his ears pick up the sounds around him. He can hear Mr. Morrison mowing his front lawn, Mrs. Erikson’s yorkie yapping from the front porch, his dad talking to the mailman outside, and his mom puttering around the kitchen making breakfast.

He takes a deep breath through his nose and out through his mouth, his therapist’s voice echoing inside his head.

Search for something good in each moment and use that to anchor you.

As Patrick continues his breathing exercises, he looks up to find something good. It’s a beautiful spring day outside of his bedroom window, better than the overcast skies that have dampened his mood for the last three days. Maybe he can go for a hike.

He stands up from his bed, stretching his arms up, feeling his muscles contracting against his back. He still feels a twinge in his left leg, something he’ll always be conscious of according to his doctors, but he’s been given the all clear from his physical therapist and Patrick is relieved he no longer needs his crutches to support him.

Patrick shrugs on an old sweatshirt and makes his way downstairs, following the scent of bacon to the kitchen.

“Morning, sweetheart,” his mom says from the stove, cupping his cheek affectionately before passing him a cup of tea.

“Thanks,” he murmurs quietly and sits down at the table.

“Plans for today?” his mom asks, placing his breakfast in front of him.

“I think I’m going to go on a hike. Get some fresh air,” Patrick replies taking a sip of his tea.

His mother’s eyes immediately settle into concern. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? You don’t want to strain your leg, Patrick.”

Patrick gives her a reassuring smile. “I’m going on an easy trail, I promise. I just need to get out of the house for a little bit.”

His mom nods her head and kisses the top of his head. “Of course, my sweet boy.”

Patrick feels his breathe coming out a little bit heavier as he walks up the trail, but welcomes it with fervor. This is the first time since his accident that he’s done something other than going to the doctor or staying at home. His parents have been incredibly supportive through all of this, patient with Patrick’s recovery and providing him with whatever he needs. But this is what he needs right now, just a little bit of freedom.

When he woke up six months ago, Patrick expected to be in his bed in the apartment he shared with Rachel with her sleeping peacefully beside him. Instead he found himself in a hospital hooked up to several machines with his parents sleeping in stiff, plastic chairs.

No one has told him much about the six months he lost. He knows he quit is job at the tech firm he worked for as a financial analyst. He knows he broke his engagement with Rachel. And he knows he moved away to a small town four hours away for home for six months.

A town called Elmdale according to his parents.

His parents can’t tell him much because they don’t know much either. Apparently during his time in Elmdale he didn’t call home very often and kept to himself, something that confuses him. It’s not like him to keep secrets from his parents.

I need to get away, he thinks to himself as continues to trudge uphill. I need to do something.

He’s been feeling an itch to leave town to chase his memories. Uncertainty and fear have prevented him from doing so. But as Patrick continues to hike uphill, checking another small milestone of progress, he knows that he can do it if he allows himself to be just a little bit brave.

Let me try. I want to try.

Patrick continues to walk even as his leg begins to pulse with pain. He wants just one thing for himself, and climbing up a mountain is his one thing for now. It takes him much longer than he normally would due to his leg and the easy trail being a lower incline. But when he reaches the top, he feels like he’s found a tiny part of himself again, a whisper of who he is.

“Elmdale,” he says to himself softly as he looks out into the world below him.

His parents are worried when he brings it up at dinner.

“Sweetheart, are you sure that’s a good idea?” His mom asks with her eyebrows knitted together. She’s pulling at her fingers, a habit Patrick adopted from his mother since he was young when he was nervous.

“You only just began to really recover,” his dad says to him from across the table. “The doctor said you shouldn’t push yourself too much physically and mentally.”

“It’ll just be for a couple of days, no more than three,” Patrick says firmly. “I just want to see if I can find some answers. I need to do this.”

His parents frown more and Patrick sighs softly to himself. “I promise to be careful,” he says gently. “And I’ll call when I can.”

His mom shakes her head sadly at him. “You said that the last time you left,” she says, her voice catching at the end.

“It’ll be different this time, I promise.”

Patrick pack’s his car with one suitcase and a whirlwind of nerves in his stomach. His parents are standing on the lawn, their arms around each other as they watch Patrick with careful support.

“I love you guys,” Patrick says hugging them goodbye. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Call us when you get there,” his mom says cupping his cheek.

“I will,” Patrick says nodding his head.

“Be careful,” his dad says clapping him on the shoulder.

“I always am,” Patrick says with a grin. He kisses his mom’s cheek one last time and gets into his car, his hands shaking slightly. He’s driven since his accident, driving himself to his therapist once a week and to run errands for his parents whenever he could. But those have all been short distances. This will be the first time he’s driven longer than fifteen minutes.

He takes a deep breath through his nose and exhales through his mouth and with one last look at his parents, he reverses out of his parent’s driveway and begins his journey to Elmdale, his phone’s GPS guiding him out of his town and onto the highway.

His body is tense for the first half hour, his eyes darting from the road to the rear view mirror to his side mirrors and back onto the road constantly. He doesn’t remember his accident, but he’ll never be able to forget the weeks he spent in the hospital, the pain from his left leg, and the frustration of not knowing who he was. Patrick grips the steering wheel tighter, his breath coming out harder.

He reaches the radio dial with a shaky hand, hoping music will calm his nerves or at least distract him. The moment he switches it on, a thumping base fills his car and someone sings about hearts being on fire. The song sounds familiar to Patrick, probably listened to it on the radio late at night when he was younger. It was one of those “oldie but a goodie” songs. But as the song continues on, something inside of Patrick begins to warm up and the tension that was  in his body uncoils.

Soon he’s tapping his fingers against the steering wheel as the music wraps him up tightly in its embrace, Patrick’s eyes staring out into the vast road in front of him.

It’s a little bit past four when he makes the exit into Elmdale, Patrick’s body buzzing with excitement and nerves. He’s not expecting for all of his memories to miraculously return, but he’s hoping to feel at least a small spark of recognition. The town is small, houses lined down the streets close together. He drives down main street, his eyes taking in all the shop fronts searching for his memories as if they are spilled onto the sidewalk like a cup of coffee.

But nothing looks familiar and Patrick feels no spark. He parks his car in an empty spot in front of an empty store front and slumps into his seat. He calls his parent to let them know he’s safe. They tell him they love him and that they hope he finds what he’s looking for. He rubs his temples as he feels a headache coming, his frustration tensing up his body again.

He doesn’t know where he used to live. He doesn’t know where he used to work. He just knows the answers to his questions are somewhere around here.

But something nags him inside, his gut telling him he won’t find anything here.

He thunks his head on the headrest and thinks back to the conversation he had with his parents.

“You and Rachel hit a rough patch during the wedding planning that made you break up. Next thing we knew, you quit your job and you were driving out of town. You called us two weeks later to tell us you were safe and that was that.”

He wasn’t surprised to hear about his fight with Rachel, that has been the pattern of their relationship since they were sixteen. But it was shocking to know he might have left town because of it.

After he was discharged out of the hospital, Rachel came to visit him at his parent’s house, bringing a batch of snickerdoodle cookies that she always baked for him whenever he was sick. They sat on his parent’s front porch, his leg propped up on a small wooden stool when he asked her is she knew anything about his time away from home. But she shook her head no, her beautiful red hair falling on her face.

“No one really knew much except that you were down by Elmdale. You just said you were happy and that you would tell your parents everything soon. I tried texting you, but they mostly went unanswered.”

He feels guilty when she tells him this, knowing it must have hurt her to have been shut out so coldly. But Rachel took his hand in hers and told him she just wanted him to be happy.

“I was going to chase after you, I was going to drive down there to find you and try to win you back. But something changed. I don’t know what, but something feels different between us.”

She kissed him on the cheek and told him not to eat all the cookies at once and then left. They’ve spoken since, Rachel telling him she moved about forty minutes away to a new law firm and about the cat she adopted last month.

She’s happier Patrick knows. And he’s relieved.

But that doesn’t answer his questions of why he left and what made him stay away.

He wants to press his parents for more details, but they’ve assured him that that’s all they know.

Patrick sighs heavily and turns his car back on. He was planning on spending a couple of days at a small bed and breakfast on the outskirts of town, but Patrick doesn’t want to stay here anymore.

But he also doesn’t want to go back home.

Driving to nowhere led him somewhere nearly a year ago. Somewhere that made him stay for at least six months. Maybe he’ll be lucky again this time.

He leaves Elmdale and drives back on the highway pushing the fear of the unknown down and focusing on the road in front of him instead.

Be brave, be brave.

Dusty Springfield is crooning in his ear when he sees the exit for Schitt’s Creek popping up. He feels a pull in his gut the moment he sees it and before thinking twice, he exits off the highway. His heart is beating in his chest rapidly as he follows his first real spark of something. From a distance he can see a large wooden town sign and squints his eyes because he thinks he sees two figures in a rather odd position. But as he drives closer, his eyes widen in shock as he realizes his eyes were seeing exactly what he imagined. He stops the car in front of the sign, the name Schitt’s Creek glares back at him, along with two people in a promiscuous position. But the kicker was a smaller sign nailed to the bottom left corner that read, “Don’t worry! It’s his sister!” in bright red lettering.

Patrick blinks at it for a few seconds before he begins to laugh loudly, his lungs wheezing for air.

“Schitt’s Creek,” Patrick says to himself, shaking his head. It doesn’t seem like a place that’s easy to forget.

The town is smaller than Elmdale and slightly more desolate. There’s some trash here and there on the roads, an abandoned tire laying on someone’s front lawn. He drives past a sad looking motel, the building looking worn and battered.

“The Rosebud Motel,” Patrick mutters to himself. It rolls off his tongue easily he thinks to himself surprised.

He continues to drive down the street, passing by quaint little houses with white picket fences. It feels…nice.

Patrick doesn’t recognize anything, but he feels more at ease here than he did at Elmdale. For some reason he feels safer.

He drives in circles until he loops around into the middle of town, three buildings meeting in an intersection. There’s a restaurant, the words “Café Tropicale” written on a sign above the door. There’s a garage, the blue building faded and worn with various cars parked out front. And the last building is a small store made of brick with a black store front, wooden crates filled with vegetable and fruits standing outside.

“Rose Apothecary,” Patrick says quietly to himself. Something washes over him in that moment, something that makes his insides tingle. “Rose Apothecary,” he repeats to himself again.

Patrick unbuckles his seat belt and gets out of his car, his eyes focused in on the store. It looks nice, fairly new. Patrick feels his left leg twitch a little, his hands suddenly a little clammy. But he moves forward, walking with confident strides across the street.

A little bell dings above him when he opens the door. The store is empty, jazz music playing lowly from the speakers. Various products are lined neatly on two long tables in the middle of the store. The shelves are also organized precisely and with obvious care.

Patrick feels his heart rate begin to kick up, his anxiety spiking. He takes a deep breath through his nose and his senses are flooded by the scent of oranges and lavender. His body immediately begins to relax and something inside of him sparks. But before he can push the spark, a voice fills the air.

“Welcome to Rose Apothecary, how may I-”

Patrick turns around and sees a man with dark hair and even darker eyebrows staring at him in shock. He’s holding a clipboard and a pen in his hands, his eyes wide and his mouth agape.

“W-what, what’s-” he sputters before losing his grip on the clipboard, it clattering to the ground and various pieces of paper spilling all over the floor. Patrick immediately steps forward and crouches down to help pick up the paper, the man also going down on his knees to clean up the mess. Patrick notices his hands are shaking and he’s avoiding eye contact. Patrick gathers everything he can and stands back up, the man also standing, but his eyes glued to the floor.

“Here,” Patrick say gently, handing him the papers. The man takes it, lifting his head up allowing Patrick to take a good look at his face up close. His eyes are still wide, but they’re a piercing shade of deep brown, framed by long, dark lashes. He’s strikingly beautiful, the most beautiful man Patrick has ever seen. And he’s looking at Patrick like he’s a ghost.

“Um,” Patrick says blinking at him. “Hi?”

The man also blinks back rapidly before shaking his head and turning to walk behind the counter. “W-welcome to R-Rose Apothecary,” he says before clearing his throat awkwardly. “How can I help you?”

Patrick shoves his hands in his pockets. “I don’t really know what I’m looking for. I just decided to come in and take a look around.” He looks around the store. “I’m just passing through.”

“I see,” the man says quietly. “Well feel free to browse around. I’m just going to be in the back. Call out if you need me,” he says before quickly disappearing into the curtain behind the counter.

Patrick stares at the curtain for a moment, his body tugging at him to follow him. But he shakes the feeling away and instead walks around the store, picking up various products and reading the labels. He really doesn’t know why he came in, but he doesn’t really want to leave.

Ten minutes pass and he’s reading the label for an under eye serum when the man comes back out from the curtain. “Oh, you’re still here?”

“Yeah, I’m just looking for something to give to my mother,” Patrick replies.

“The hand cream,” the man blurts out.

“Excuse me?” Patrick asks surprised.

The man clears his throat nervously. “The hand cream. It’s one of our best sellers. It’s made with coconut oil and honey, very good for anyone with eczema.”

“Oh,” Patrick blinks back. “That’s good, my mother has eczema.”

The man presses his lips together tightly before saying, “If you’re also looking for a gift for your father, might I recommend the bergamot and sandalwood aftershave? That is also one of our more popular items.”

Two scents his father has always enjoyed. Patrick smiles at him. “That sounds perfect.”

Patrick pays for his things and the man places his purchases carefully into a cloth tote bag, Patrick watching four silver rings on his right hand glinting in the light.

“Thank you,” Patrick says kindly, receiving the tote bag. The man’s mouth is pushed to one side.

“So you’re just passing through?” The man asks nervously.

Patrick nods his head. “Yeah. Something inside of me told me to drive through here,” Patrick says shouldering the bag and shoving his hands in his pockets again. “I’m looking for something.”

The man’s eyes scan over Patrick’s face and he’s once again struck by how beautiful he is.

“Well,” the man says clearing his throat. “I hope you find it.”

Patrick gives him a soft smile. “Thank you.” And with one last look, Patrick turns on his heel and walks towards the door. He looks up and his eyes land on the cafe across the street.

“Is the food any good there?” Patrick asks suddenly, turning around. The man startles and blinks at him for a moment before his lips twitch upwards.

“The food is moderately edible,” he replies with a small sparkle in his eyes. Patrick is immediately mesmerized and wonders if the man would look more beautiful if he smiled. He probably did.

Patrick grins at him and nods and walks out the door and across the street.

Café Tropicale is anything but tropical. The furniture is dated and Patrick can smell something burning, but his stomach grumbles loudly enough that makes him snag a booth by the entrance. There’s one waitress who is tending to some people at the bar before walking over to him, her eyes focused on grabbing a notepad from her apron pocket.

“Hi, what can I get you-” She stops short when she sees him and much like the beautiful man from across the street, she’s looking at him like he’s a ghost.

“Hello?” Patrick says knitting his eyebrows together. She’s still staring at him and Patrick shifts in his seat awkwardly.

“Have we met before?” Patrick asks the startled waitress.

“Oh! Nope! Sorry, we’re just not used to visitors coming through here. It’s a very small town,” she answers quickly. She takes a step backwards, still looking at him and says, “Let me go get you a menu."

Patrick’s eyebrows are still furrowed tightly as he looks around the cafe. There aren’t many people, a couple of locals Patrick’s guesses, town regulars. There are murals painted on the wall that are faded with age and when the waitress returns with a menu, Patrick’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline.

“I’ll be back in a minute to take your order,” she says walking away and Patrick opens up the massive menu and peruses the seemingly hundreds of options.

He chooses a turkey club with fries, a safe option, he hopes, and when the waitress takes down his order she adds, “With extra mayo, yes?”

“Yes,” Patrick answers surprised.

“Coming right up,” she says with a wink and she takes the massive menu with her to put in his order.

He goes back to looking around the restaurant, nervously pulling on his fingers. He doesn’t recognize anything, but he feels something stirring inside of him, as if something important has happened here.

“One turkey club with fries, extra mayo,” a voice says breaking him out of his thoughts.

“Thank you,” he says warmly.

“So,” the waitress says, “Are you here visiting? Or…?”

“Just passing through,” Patrick replies. “I’m looking for something and decided to pop in for a bite to eat. The man in the store across the street said the food was good here,” Patrick says fabricating just a little bit.

“David recommended you come in here?” She asks shocked and hearing that name lights something inside of Patrick, something sharp and real.

“David,” he repeats to himself quietly, a warmth he’s never felt before crawling up his body. His gut begins tugging at him, trying to tell him something important.

“Yes, David owns the general store across the street. He and his family moved here a couple of years ago. Nice people. Strange, but nice, sort of.”

Patrick’s lips quirk upwards. “Can you tell me more about him?”

The waitress, named Twyla according to her name tag, recounts the story of David Rose and how he turned his misfortune into the beautiful general store Patrick browsed through only 20 minutes ago. She tells him about David’s family, their fall from wealth and grace, and their evolution into being a family by living here in Schitt’s Creek.

“Mrs. Rose is also on the town council. Everyone was surprised when she ran, but she’s been doing some great work over the last few months.”

Patrick listens to everything she says, absorbing all of this information as the warmth in his body continues to spread.

She leaves him to his thoughts when she finished the grand tale of the Rose family, Patrick chewing contemplatively on his sandwich. Something is here, something worth searching for.

Patrick leaves the cafe with half of his sandwich in a to go box and looks at the general store again. The sign is flipped to close, but Patrick can see the outline of David Rose moving around the store, fluttering around restlessly.

“David,” Patrick says to himself again and smiles. He walks to his car and places his to-go box in the passenger seat. He should go home. Being impulsive now that he’s in a much more delicate state isn’t good for him. He can regroup back at his parent’s house where it’s safer. It’s a little bit past seven now, the sky darkening quickly and Patrick thinks to himself he’ll be able to get home by midnight once he starts going. He drives towards the town limit, passing by the general store and looking in just one more time. David is still there, moving around in the gentle glow of lights by the cash register.

Patrick is driving past the motel when he slows down and turns into the parking lot. He turns off the ignition and sits in his seat, staring blankly ahead. He doesn’t know why he turned. Something inside of him made him turn.

It’s getting late and it’s not safe to drive so late at night. Just trying to be rationale, Patrick thinks to himself. What’s the harm of staying one night?

Patrick opens his car door and walks towards the office, an old neon sign blinking “Vacancies” at him. He opens the door and sees a woman with dark hair sitting at the front desk, staring at a computer screen.

“Hi,” Patrick says closing the door behind him.

The woman looks up at the sound of his voice and blinks at him multiple times. “Oh, hello.”

“I was wondering if you had a room available?” Patrick says walking up to the front desk. “Just for the night?”

“Um, yes, I believe we do,” the woman replies and clicks the mouse several times. “Just for one night?”

“Yes, just passing through,” Patrick says for what he feels like the twentieth time today.

“Just passing through,” the woman mutters to herself while looking at him. “Room 3 is available,” she says reaching behind her for the key. “I’ll just need your credit card to finish the booking.”

“Sure,” Patrick says reaching for his wallet. The woman types his information into the computer while sneaking glances at him.

“Okay, Patrick,” she says handing him his credit card and room key. “You are all set.”

“Thank you, um,” Patrick says looking at her name tag. “Thank you, Stevie.”

“My pleasure,” she says with a weak smile. Patrick leaves the office and walks to room three, sliding the key into the lock and opening the door. To say the inside matches the outside would be an understatement. It’s bleak and old, and there’s a weird stain on the carpeted floor by his feet. But much like the rest of the town, Patrick doesn’t feel uncomfortable. He feels safe in this dusty room.

He settles in, bringing him his suitcase from the car and changing into his sweats. He flips through the channels of the old television, finding a baseball game and turning down the volume for some light background noise.

He walks into the bathroom to splash water on his face, the cold water stinging his face. He blindly reaches for a towel and discovers there isn’t one on the towel rack. He wipes the excess water from his face with his hand and grabs his room key and walks back to the office. As he nears the door, he hears voices inside, one voice in particular sounding very high and pitchy.

He opens the door and sees a man with dark hair waving his hands frantically in front of Stevie.

“What do you mean he checked in! He was supposed to be leaving! You shouldn’t have given him a room.”

“I was just doing my job,” the woman replied nonchalantly.

“If you were any kind of friend, you would have prevented this!”

“Excuse me?” Patrick says clearing his throat. The man whips around and David’s shocked face meets Patrick’s.

“David and his family live over at the motel,” Twyla says refilling his glass with water. “Lived there since they’ve moved into town.”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Patrick says rubbing the back of his neck. “I was just wondering if I could get a towel?”

“Yes, of course,” Stevie says sitting up straighter in her chair. “I’ll bring one over to you immediately.”

“Thanks,” Patrick says nodding to her and then he turns towards David, smiling softly at him. “Hi David. It’s nice to see you again.”

David’s eyes widen dramatically, “H-how did you know my name?”

“Twyla told me,” Patrick replies. “I went in for some food after your recommendation and she told me your name.”

David looks away and crosses his arms against his chest. “Oh.”

Patrick gives him one more smile and leaves the office, walking back to his room. He sits on the bed and toes his shoes off, his mind deep in thought.

He’s cute. In a very rugged and manly way. Is cute the right word for that? Handsome, he’s handsome. He’s very handsome.

There’s a knock on the door and Patrick opens it to Stevie carrying three towels.

“Sorry about that,” she says handing him the towels. “Anything else I can help you with?”

“Yeah,” Patrick says. “Can you tell me about David Rose?”

Stevie visibly freezes before her face settles to one of nonchalance. “What do you want to know?”

Patrick pulls at his fingers a little, suddenly nervous under Stevie’s gaze. “I don’t know to be honest. I just feel like I’m supposed to know him?”

Stevie’s eyebrows shoot up to her hairline in surprise. “Okay?”

“Sorry,” Patrick says clutching the towels tight to his chest. “Sorry, I don’t know what I’m asking for. It’s been a weird couple of weeks for me.”

Stevie is still watching him carefully, her eyes staring straight at him. “David’s single.”

“Excuse me?” Patrick asks shocked.

Stevie smirks and Patrick suddenly feels at ease from her smile but also very weary. “David is single. If you’re interested.”

Patrick opens and closes his mouth, blinking at her in confusion. “I uh, I’m not gay?”

“Are you telling me or asking me?” Stevie asks, crossing her arms as her smirk deepens.

“Okay,” Patrick says reaching for the door. “I think I’m just going to go to sleep for the night.”

“He’s in room seven if you’re wondering,” Stevie says right before Patrick closes the door in her face. Patrick walks to the bathroom with shaky legs, dropping the towels on the edge of the sink and sitting down on the toilet.

“I uh, I’m not gay?”

Gay.

I’m not gay.

And then David’s face flashes in Patrick’s mind, him and that devastating crooked smile of his. Patrick shakes his head, chasing away the image of David.

Lock it up, Brewer. Lock it up.

Patrick wakes up the next morning bleary eyed and cranky, the cheap motel bed keeping him up for most of the night. Or perhaps it was his mind constantly replaying his limited interactions with David Rose over and over again.

Nope, definitely the bed.

He takes a quick shower and packs up his things, casting one more glance around the room before leaving to check out. He’s reaching for the doorknob of the office when he hears another door slamming closed. He looks up and sees David leaving his room, white sunglasses over his eyes and a black bag in his hands.

“Morning!” Patrick says, raising his hand up. David staggers backwards in surprise at the sound of Patrick’s voice and takes off his sunglasses. “Someone is incredibly chipper to be up at 8:30 in the morning,” David responds with a grimace.

Patrick smiles at him, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Not a morning person?”

“Not at all,” David responds. “But I need to go and open up the store at this ungodly hour.”

“No one to open it for you?” Patrick asks.

David stills for a moment and looks at Patrick with an odd expression before looking away quickly. “Not anymore,” he murmurs. He sounds sad and lonely and Patrick feels the same way suddenly.

But before the thought can manifest any further, David looks back up at him, his gaze cool and strong. “So, I take it you’re checking out?”

“Uh, yes,” Patrick replies shocked by the sudden turn around. “Heading back home today.”

“Home,” David repeats quietly, nodding his head. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

Patrick shakes his head with a small smile. “No, I haven’t yet.”

“Well,” David says clearing his throat. “I hope you enjoyed your visit to Schitt’s Creek.”

“Thank you, David.” Patrick replies kindly.

David gives him one more look before heading to his car, a vintage black Lincoln parked next to Patrick.

“Goodbye, David,” Patrick says, wanting to say just one more thing to him.

David turns around and looks at him before his lips turn upwards. David smiles at him shyly, a real one, a smile so beautiful Patrick feels his insides twisting. And for some reason, Patrick feels at home in that smile.

“Goodbye, Patrick.” And with that David gets into his car and drives off, Patrick watching him go until he’s no longer in his sight.

Something inside of Patrick itches, clawing from underneath his skin. He stands there for another moment, imagining David standing there with him, smiling at him.

Suddenly Patrick squares this shoulders and walks into the office, Stevie sitting at the front desk nursing a steaming cup of coffee.

“Ready to check out?” Stevie asks, putting her coffee down.

“No,” Patrick replies. “I’d like to extend my stay to a week, if it’s possible please.”

Stevie stares at him in shock before her face settles into glee. “Shouldn’t be a problem.”

Chapter Text

Patrick paces his room with his phone clutched tightly in his hand. He was only supposed to be away from home for another day or two, definitely not a week. He’s worried about how his parents will react, afraid that they might think this will be a repeat of what happened nine months ago. But Patrick feels it in his gut that what he’s looking for is here in Schitt’s Creek.

He takes a deep breath and taps on his mom’s name on his phone, listening to the phone ring anxiously.

“Hi my sweet boy,” his mom greets him warmly from the other end.

“Hi mom,” Patrick breathes out, sitting on his bed. “Just calling to check in.”

“How are you? Is everything okay?”

“Could be better,” Patrick says rubbing his face tiredly. “Still searching.”

“I’m sorry your dad and I can’t be of more help,” his mom says with real regret. “I wish there was more we could tell you.”

“It’s fine mom,” Patrick reassures her. “It’s not your fault I kept so much from you.”

“We love you very much, Patrick,” his mom says fiercely. “We will always support every decision you make, even if you don’t always tell us why.”

“Love you too,” Patrick says through the lump in his throat.

“Before I forget, your therapist called, she wanted to confirm that you’ll be back for your Thursday appointment.”

“Yeah, about that,” Patrick says wincing. “Don’t freak out, but I think I’m going to stay here for a full week.”

“A week?” his mom asks, her voice high.

“I’ll keep calling every day, I promise,” Patrick adds quickly. “I just, I feel something. I don’t know what it is, but it feels like the closest thing to an answer.”

His mom sighs deeply from the other end. “We will always support every decision you make,” she repeats again. “No questions, no conditions.”

“Thanks mom,” Patrick replies gratefully. “It’ll be different. I promise, I’m going to figure it out.”

“I know my sweet boy,” his mom replies. “I believe in you. Now, how is Elmdale?”

“I’m actually not in Elmdale. I’m in Schitt’s Creek.”

His mom is quiet on the other line and Patrick looks at his phone to make sure the call didn’t drop. “Mom?”

“You’re in Schitt’s Creek?” She asks surprised. “Why on earth are you there?”

“My gut kind of led me here,” Patrick replies sheepishly. “Have you ever been here before?”

“No, can’t say I have,” his mom says. “Your father and I passed by the exit on our way down to you after the accident, but other than that we haven’t heard anything about it. Is it nice there?”

“In a way,” Patrick murmurs. “But I have a good feeling about this.”

“Okay, well we support you in every way, dear,” his mom says. “And if you think something is in Schitt’s Creek, then you go and look for it.”

Patrick grins into the phone. “Thanks mom, I really appreciate it.”

“Of course my sweet boy. Promise to call tomorrow?” She asks with a pointed tone.

“I promise,” Patrick laughs.

“Okay, then. Call back later tonight. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Patrick doesn’t really know what else to do except walk around Schitt’s Creek and see if there’s anything recognizable. Nothing jumps out at him, the quiet roads of the town lulling him as he walks.

The houses are small and quaint, wild flowers springing up from the ground underneath his feet. The town is rustic and charming and Patrick thinks to himself that he can live here. He can see himself living here clearer than he envisioned himself in Elmdale. He feels like he makes sense here.

He’s walking towards a faded brick building when the door swings up with a flourish and a woman dressed in head to toe black saunters out.

Patrick blinks at her as he takes in her outfit. Black leather pants, a black pirate ruffle blouse, black fur vest and a matching hat sitting on her head. She has large black sunglasses on her face and her red lips are pursed tightly together. Against the worn brick, she sticks out spectacularly, a fantastical vision against a dusty, old town.

His eyes move to a a battered wooden sign in front of the building, the words “Town Hall,” faded against the wood.

Patrick moves his eyes back towards to woman when her head snaps towards him. He can’t tell what her expression is because of the sunglasses, but her lips pull tighter against her face and soon she’s stalking right towards him.

“Well hello you,” the woman says in a cool tone. She’s even more intimidating up close, her confident aura knocking Patrick back a step.

“H-hello,” Patrick stutters out.

“I haven’t seen you around here before. Are you lost dear?” She asks, cocking her head to the side.

“No,” Patrick says clearing his throat and shoving his hands into his pockets. “Just out for a walk. Taking in the fresh air.”

“Ah yes,” she says reaching for her sunglasses. “This town has an abundance of fresh air underneath the intrusive smell of manure and gasoline.” She takes off her sunglasses and Patrick is even more struck by her piercing gaze.

“Uh, um,” Patrick says, opening and closing his mouth dumbly.

“I’m Moira Rose, but I’m sure you already knew that given your petrified state,” she says. “And you are?”

“Um, Patrick, Patrick Brewer,” Patrick manages to say.

“Well, dear Parker, what brings you to our humble and whimsical little town?” She asks with a flourish of her hand.

“Just passing through,” Patrick replies. “I’m here for the week.”

“Might I ask why? Why don’t normally get many travelers here,” she says with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m looking for something,” Patrick responds, ducking his head a little away from her gaze.

“Hm,” she says watching him closely. “Sounds existential.”

Patrick chuckles and nods his head. “A little, yes.”

“Well then, I won’t keep you, existential exploration can be quite tedious,” she says putting on her sunglasses again. “I hope you enjoy your stay here, Peter, and that you find who you’re looking for.” She gives him what he can only assume is a pointed look through her shades and is gliding down the sidewalk with long, purposeful steps.

He stares after her when her words finally catch up to his brain. “Wait, what do you mean who?”

Patrick is sitting at the counter of the café waiting staring down at his lunch when he feels someone sit down next to him. “So,” Stevie says plucking a french fry off of his plate. “What made you stay for the week?”

“I don’t know,” Patrick sighs, pushing his plate closer to her. “I’m looking for something. It doesn’t help that I don’t know what I’m supposed to look for.”

“But you think it’s here?” Stevie asks, gesturing for Twyla.

“I know it’s here,” Patrick replies firmly.

“How?” Stevie asks.

“I trust my gut,” Patrick says pulling at his fingers. “And my gut is telling me I’m supposed to be here.”

Stevie looks at him carefully, her faze strong and piercing, but instead of cowering away, Patrick looks at her with the same intensity until her mouth cracks into a smirk.

“Well, Patrick Brewer,” Stevie says sliding off her stool just as Twyla comes over with a plastic to-go bag. “You have made things very interesting in our little town.” She thanks Twyla and leaves the café with the bag in her hand.

Patrick leaves the café and makes his way to his car when his eye catches the general store. Or more specifically, the handsome owner of the general store.

David is outside spritzing the fruits and vegetables, the silver rings on his right hand glinting in the sunlight. Since Patrick will be staying at the motel for a week, he needs to stock up on toiletries. He doesn’t trust the shampoo that’s provided at the motel. He needs something better.

Yup, I need artisanal soap, Patrick thinks to himself as he walks across the street. Maybe even a bath bomb. Yup, definitely need that too.

“Hi David,” Patrick says from behind and pulls his lips in when he watches David jump from his voice.

He turns around in shock and narrows his eyes at Patrick. “Do you enjoy being a nuisance?”

“Only on Wednesdays,” Patrick replies with a grin. David’s lips twitch upwards and something flutters inside of Patrick’s stomach. David rolls his eyes before his eyebrows furrow together. “Wait, what are you doing here? I thought you left?”

Patrick shoves his hands deep into his pockets. “I changed my mind. I’m staying for a week.”

“A week?” David asks, his voice high and breathy.

Patrick nods his head. “I like it here,” Patrick says looking around. “I want to spend more time here.”

“Really,” David says crinkling his nose. “You’re actively choosing to spend more time in Schitt’s Creek?”

Patrick smiles at David. “My gut tells me there’s something worth looking for here. And I’m going to find it.”

David has an odd look on his face as he stands underneath the bright spring sun, his hand clutching onto a small metal spray bottle. “You’re quite determined,” David murmurs.

“I’m a take charge kind of guy,” Patrick replies and David’s mouth twists upward.

“So it seems,” he says softly. “Well, if you’re staying the week, you’ll probably need shampoo that won’t permanently damage your scalp. Unless you enjoy that kind of experience the motel provides,” David says walking into the store.

“No, no, I will definitely need some shampoo,” Patrick says following him in. Once again he’s enveloped by the store and feels cradled in its embrace, a feeling so intimate and real. David plucks several bottles from the middle tables, his long fingers moving quickly with intention and Patrick watches mesmerized, feeling a little hot under the collar.

He shakes his head and picks up a glass bottle to distract himself, reading the label and knitting his eyebrows with confusion. “Can you drink this?”

David stops moving and snaps his head towards Patrick. “Um, no. That is liquid moisturizer for your body.”

“Is calling this ‘body milk’ wise? Seems a but misleading,” Patrick says turning the bottle around in his hands.

“Anyone with a fiber of common sense will know that it’s not actually milk,” David replies back absentmindedly before his body stills suddenly.

Patrick looks up at David and sees him shuffling awkwardly on his feet. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yes,” David says shaking his head. “It’s just that,” he chews on his bottom lip and Patrick’s eyes zero in on it before he can stop himself. “Someone I used to know said the same thing. A friend.”

“Oh,” Patrick says smiling warmly at him. “A good friend?”

David regards him carefully and gently replies, “The best.”

They stare at each other for a moment longer before David turns away and goes back to picking out items for Patrick. Patrick watches him, unable to look anywhere else except at David Rose.

When David places his choices on the counter, Patrick looks through them, surprised by how well David seems to have chosen everything based on his preferences. “Why did you choose shampoo for curly hair?”

David stops moving, his hand clutching onto a bottle of lotion. “I can um,” David starts, clearing his throat. “I can see the tips of you hair starting to curl and I thought you’d want something to help with that.”

Patrick runs a hand through his hair, definitely a little longer than he usually keeps it, but still too short for anyone to know about his natural curls. Patrick notices David watching his movements and files it away for later. For research.

David continues to ring him up, his shoulders tense. “I don’t know if I’ll need all of this David,” Patrick says with a teasing grin. “Are you sure you’re not just trying to make a profit off of me?”

David scoffs gently and punches numbers into the register. “If I were trying to make a profit off of you, I wouldn’t have applied a 25% discount.”

“A discount?” Patrick asks surprised.

“Yeah, a family and friends discount,” David replies, waving his hand nonchalantly.

“Oh so I’m a friend?” Patrick asks, crossing his arms and giving David a look of fake surprise, feeling giddy at the idea of riling David up.

David narrows his eyes but the smile tugging at the corner of his lips gives him away. “You’re…something.”

Patrick smiles wider at David and feels heat pooling at the pit of his stomach when David smiles at him back.

He’s beautiful. The most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. How can I make him smile more?

David finishes ringing him up, handing over Patrick’s purchases and their hands brush each other, electricity shooting up Patrick’s arm and into his heart.

They stare at each other wide eyed, the air between them become charged with energy, until David steps back and looks down, the strange moment between them disappearing quickly.

“That should last you for more than a week,” David says looking towards the back of the store. “No need for you to come back and restock.”

“Trying to keep me away?” Patrick asks with a teasing grin.

“Maybe,” David replies without jest and that hurts Patrick a little, more than a little. It stings.

“Oh,” Patrick says softly. “Well then, maybe I’ll see you around?”

David nods stiffly and moves back onto the main floor, rearranging bottles with his back turned towards Patrick. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”

Patrick stares at David’s back for a moment longer before leaving the store, the Rose Apothecary tote bag limp in his hand. He sits in his car thinking back to his conversation, racking his brain for a reason for David’s sudden coldness. He rests his head onto the steering wheel, taking a deep breath through his nose, his head beginning to ache painfully.

He needs a nap. A long one. And maybe a beer.

Patrick starts the car and drives back to the motel, his mind occupied by David Rose.

“I told him not to rip the branch without gloves, but what do I know,” Patrick’s mom says on the phone, fond frustration clear in her voice.

Patrick chuckles and settles deeper into bed. “But he’s okay?”

“Yes, he’s fine. He soaked his hands in ice water and I gave him cookies,” she says and Patrick’s dad’s voice rings from the background. “She only gave me one cookie!”

“You don’t deserve any cookies!” His mom snarks back and Patrick laughs, loving his parents and their relationship.

I want that, Patrick thinks to himself sadly. I want that.

“I should head to bed,” Patrick says looking at the clock. “I want to get up early for a hike tomorrow.”

“Be safe!” His mom says from the other line. “I love you, sweet boy.”

“Love you guys too,” Patrick replies. “Goodnight.”

Patrick lays in bed, his arms pillowing his head, willing his body to shut down. But his mind can’t seem to stop itself from moving, taking apart every moment he’s had so far in Schitt’s Creek.

Patrick lets out a rough sigh and sits up on his bed, putting on his shoes and reaching for his hoodie.

A short drive will help him calm down. A short drive around the block.

Patrick walks out of his room into the dark night, shoving his hands in his pockets and walks towards his car. He’s reaching for his door when he sees a figure moving from the corner of his eye. He ducks down by his car and peers around it, his eyes still adjusting to the darkness. It doesn’t help that whoever he saw is also wearing all black.

But then their face catches in the light pouring out of one of the bedrooms and Patrick finds himself staring at David Rose, sitting on the curb staring at an empty parking space with his arms wrapped around his knees.

The look on David’s face is familiar to Patrick, because it’s a face that’s greeted him every morning since waking up from his accident. He looks lost and sad and lonely, so lonely.

Patrick zips up his hoodie and walks towards David, the night chill stinging his face.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Patrick says gently. David jumps slightly at the sound of his voice, looking up at Patrick with wide eyes again. “Oh, hi.”

“Hi,” Patrick says. “Mind if I join you?”

David chews on his bottom lip and Patrick finds himself staring at it for the second time today. “Sure,” David sighs out, staring back out at the empty parking spot.

Patrick sits down next to him, resting his arms on his knees. “Couldn’t sleep either?”

“No,” David replies shaking his head. “Can’t remember the last time I slept properly.”

“Me too,” Patrick agrees softly. They sit together in silence, the crickets and cicadas chirping around them.

“Find yourself out here often?” Patrick asks turning towards David. David hums and nods his head. “Yes. I come out here to think.”

“How about going on a walk?” Patrick asks.

“I’m not trying to get murdered,” David replies with disgust and that makes Patrick laugh.

“Good point. Sitting outside of a motel staring at an empty parking spot seems better,” Patrick teases and David snorts to himself. They fall back into a comfortable silence.

“I like this spot, it’s important to me,” David says quietly suddenly. That piques Patrick’s interest.

“What happened here?” Patrick asks. David is quiet again and Patrick turns his head towards David and loses his breath. David is staring out, the corner of his eyes crinkled with the softest smile on his face, the moon washing over him with its ethereal light.

“Something good,” he says quietly and Patrick wants to know more. But David doesn’t say anything else and instead stands up, dusting off his pants.

He turns towards his door and his hand reaches for the doorknob when Patrick calls out,  “Goodnight, David.”

David stills and turns back around to Patrick, the beautiful smile still on his lips. “Goodnight Patrick.” And then he opens the door and goes inside.

Patrick stares at the door before turning back to the empty parking lot, his fingers playing with the fabric of his pants.

Something good, Patrick thinks to himself as David’s smile warms his body. That sounds nice.

Patrick sits down heavily on a large rock after 30 minutes of hiking, his breath coming out unevenly, but his body buzzed with wonderful energy. It’s cold out, the air crisp against his skin, the dewey ground soft underneath his feet. It’s always easier to think when he’s outside, everything in his head seems to calm down once he gets fresh air pumping through his lungs.

It’s early in the morning, just a little before eight, and the sun has climbed its way up high in the sky. Patrick settles into the rock and unpacks the last few days, his mind working hard to make sense of his raging emotions.

He likes David. He likes David a lot. And in the few short days Patrick since he’s been here, his body has reacted to David’s presence more than it’s ever had around anyone. Not to mention, David Rose is the most interesting and infuriatingly beautiful man he’s ever met and he can’t shake the feeling of wanting to get closer to him away.

I’m not gay, Patrick thinks to himself. I’m not gay?

But what if you were?

There has to be another reason why it’s never worked out with Rachel no matter how many times he’s tried. There has to be some sort of explanation as to why he’s never felt complete, never felt right.

Patrick files David’s face away for later, closing his eyes and evening out his breathing again. It’s Thursday, meaning he’s supposed to be seeing his therapist again. He can already hear her voice as Patrick closes his eyes.

What good thing did you find today?

It’s easier to walk today than it was yesterday. He hasn’t had many migraines yet. The sky is clear and blue. David smiling at him.

Patrick blinks as he stops himself. David smiling at him. Patrick hasn’t even seen David yet. But he wants to. He wants to see him. Always wants to see David.

If Patrick begins walking back down now, he can make it back to Schitt’s Creek by the time the store opens. He needs more lip balm anyway.

Patrick stands from the rock and begins his hike back down, ignoring his mind telling him to keep going up, that he had planned to reach the lookout point the internet told him about.

It can wait.

Patrick is drumming his fingers on the formica counter top of the café as he waits for his tea and David’s coffee order. It’s five minutes before nine, Patrick making it back just in time to stake out at the café before David’s arrival. When he asked Twyla to make David’s usual coffee order, her eyebrows shot up to her hairline in surprise before settling into a satisfied grin.

Patrick continues to peer out of the café window when a woman stands and blocks his view.

“Um, hi?” she says and Patrick blinks at her. She’s tall, her blond hair tied up high in a ponytail, her cheeks flushed and a pair of headphones wrapped around her neck. She’s wearing purple workout gear, her arms crossed and one of her hips popped out as she stands there looking down at Patrick with a frown. She’s beautiful, modelesque really, but all Patrick can really think about is looking out for the man with thick, dark eyebrows and crooked smile from across the street.

“Hello?” Patrick asks confused. “Uh, do I know you-”

“Oh God no,” she says flipping her hair. “You’re just standing in the way of the counter and I need to order my smoothie from Twy.”

“Oh!” Patrick exclaims, stepping away from the counter. “My apologies.”

The woman tips her nose at him and steps up to the counter, gesturing for Twyla. “Hey Twy, can I get the Tropical Treat smoothie, but can you like make sure there’s like actual tropical fruit in it this time?”

“Sure, I’ll whip that right up for you,” Twyla says sliding Patrick’s drinks towards him. “One lavender tea and one caramel macchiato, skim, two sweetners and a sprinkle of cocoa powder for you.”

“Thanks Twyla,” Patrick says warmly.

“Um,” the woman from besides him says and Patrick turns to look at her. “That’s David’s coffee order.”

“Uh, yes,” Patrick says clearing his throat awkwardly. “Do, do you know David?”

The woman narrows her eyes at him and purses her lips. “I’m his sister, Alexis Rose.”

“Oh,” Patrick says surprised, remembering Twyla’s tale about the Rose family. “Well I’m Patrick, I’m um…”

What am I? A friend? An acquaintance? A desperate man trying to get David Rose’s attention?

“So, you’re bringing David coffee?” She asks, cutting him off and cocking an eyebrow at him.

“Uh, well, he um, helped pick out some products for me at the store and I thought I should…thank him?” He says unsurely.

“Hm,” Alexis hums at him, her eyes still narrowed suspiciously. “That’s it?”

“Yes,” Patrick answers embarrassed. “I just wanted to be nice.”

Alexis continues to stare down at him for a little but longer when a beautiful grin splits on her face. “That sounds like a very good idea,” she says with a bounce. “Stevie told me a handsome stranger was in town for the week, I just didn’t know how much of a button face he was,” she says and Patrick feels a warmth for her, some kind of protective fondness washing over him.

“Here’s your smoothie Alexis,” Twyla says, handing her a bright purple smoothie. “I added extra pineapple.”

“Mm yum!” Alexis says unsurely before turning back to Patrick. “I’ll see you around, button,” she says before tapping him on the nose and bouncing out the door.

Patrick blinks after her and shakes his head. The Roses are leaving quite the impression on Patrick.

Just as Alexis is out of sight, Patrick sees David from the corner of his eye entering the store and he quickly grabs his drinks and leaves the café, calling out to Twyla one more time over his shoulder.

He crosses the street quickly, holding onto both drinks carefully in his hands and shoulders his way into the door.

“I’ll be out in a moment!” David’s voice says from behind the curtain of the register as the shop bell above Patrick rings.

Patrick smiles and sets both drinks on the counter, waiting patiently for David to come out. When he does, Patrick feels elated at seeing his shocked expression.

“Uh, um what?” David asks dumbly and that makes Patrick feel even happier.

“I brought you your coffee,” Patrick says sliding the cup forward. “I asked Twyla to make your usual order.”

“That’s very nice of you?” David says with his eyebrows furrowed. “Why did you buy me coffee?”

Patrick shrugs his shoulder and takes a sip from his own drink. “Just wanted to be nice.”

“Why?” David asks suspiciously.

Patrick’s lips twitch upward. “Not used to people be nice to you, huh?” He teases.

“I’m not,” David replies seriously and something inside of Patrick hurts. David says it with such conviction and Patrick wants to chase it away.

“Well then,” Patrick says gently. “Can I bring you coffee again tomorrow?.”

David stares at him with a bewildered expression. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I’d like to,” Patrick says firmly. “I’m also very bored and bothering you at your store sounds like fun to me.”

“Yes well, recreational activities are severely lacking in Schitt’s Creek,” David say, narrowing his eyes at him and taking a careful sip of his coffee, watching Patrick over the lid of his cup. “You’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?”

“No,” Patrick replies, his heart rate kicking up.

Patrick watches David swallow hard, his eyes following the long lines of David’s neck and feeling his body run hot.

“Okay,” David says. “Come back tomorrow. Bring pastries.”

Patrick grins at him and nods, grabbing his tea and walking to the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, David.”

“Tomorrow,” David repeats after him with a shy smile and Patrick tucks it into his heart as he walks back to the motel.

Chapter Text

Patrick does go back the next day, with David’s coffee and a bag full of pastries and does so every day after that. In the back of his mind he’s knows that this is strange and unusual, to be spending his free time talking to the handsome proprietor of the local general store instead of setting out to do what he originally came here to do. But he can’t seem to stay away from David Rose.

They chat about the store, about the products David is thinking about bringing in. Candles, moisturizers, handmade knits, cheeses, wines, and so many other quality products that have been locally sourced and sold on consignment under one brand. It’s a brilliant business plan and makes David that more attractive.

Patrick watches David talk about his store with dramatic hand gestures and falls deeper into him every moment he’s there. David is smart and passionate and so good that Patrick feels like he can’t get enough of him.

But he’s also wildly impressed by the store, looking through all the products the store has to offer and he’s often mesmerized watching David deliver impeccable sales pitches to everyone who comes in. Patrick found himself particularly turned on when David upsold an expensive metal side table to a customer who originally came in for a wedge of cheese.

He keeps asking David questions about the store, wanting to dissect the mechanics of David’s success. He asks questions while leaning his hip against the counter, sipping on tea as David makes sure all the items are aligned neatly in their rows. At lunch, Patrick will run to the cafê and pick up food for them, a sandwich for Patrick and waffles with strawberries piled high for David. It only took Patrick the second day of being there to make sure Twyla gave him extra french fries, pushing his container closer to David for him to snag some as he talked to Patrick about his favorite Belgium waffle store in New York City.

On his third day of hanging out at the store, David hands him his books saying, “If you’re going to waste your time here, at least be useful and earn your keep.”

“I’m going to have to charge you my consultant fee, David,” Patrick says with a grin.

David scoffs and turns around to dust the shelves. “You and Stevie drank an entire bottle of wine last night for free. As far as I know, you’re indebted to me.”

Patrick smiles wider and opens up David’s books, trying not to think about how happy it makes him to know that David trusts him enough to peak into the finances of the store.

The store is doing well, there are some things that can be improved through an innovative marketing strategy to be more inclusive towards the surrounding communities, but for the most part the store is successful. Patrick looks over possible vendor agreements and tweaks a couple of numbers here and there that ensure the partnership is still mutually beneficial but gives David a slightly larger profit on his end.

Everything looks good and the store is on a steady incline.

But when he hits the store’s records around last November, Patrick is shocked to see how the store was on the verge of going under in a really bad way.

“Hey, David?” Patrick says from the counter.

“Hm?” David responds from the back shelf as he unpacks a box of new candles.

“What happened on November 3rd?” Patrick asks, his eyes breaking down the numbers rapidly. David doesn’t respond and Patrick looks up to see him staring back at him in shock.

“Excuse me?” David asks with a shaky breath.

“November 3rd?” Patrick asks again gently. “Your numbers aren’t adding up and you were in the red for nearly three months after that. What happened?”

David turns back around, his shoulders tense and up to his ears and Patrick is about to apologize for overstepping a boundary when David says, “I bought my partner out that day.”

“Your partner?” Patrick asks confused. “Why did you buy him out?”

David turns back around, but his eyes are towards the floor. “He um, he had to go back home, start over again. So I bought him out so he could have a fresh start.”

“It nearly put you out of business,” Patrick says looking back down at the numbers. “You could have gone bankrupt.”

“I didn’t have much of a choice,” David replies. “I needed to give him his money back. He deserved it back.”

“He should have known it would have cost you so much,” Patrick says with frustration. “He shouldn’t have left you like that, it’s not right.”

David is quiet, his hands clutching onto the cardboard box so tightly that it begins it warp in his hands. “I think you should go,” David says softly.

Patrick rears back. “David, I-”

“Please,” David says in a broken whispers that makes Patrick ache. “Please go.”

Patrick swallows hard and closes David’s books with a shaky hand. “Okay, okay I’m sorry. I’ll go. I’ll come back tomorrow with cinnamon buns and we’ll pretend like I didn’t royally fuck this up-”

“Don’t come back,” David says cutting him off and something inside of Patrick dies. “Just, stay away.”

“David,” Patrick says coming from behind the corner towards him, but David takes a step back, pressing himself tightly against the back shelf and Patrick stops moving. “David, I’m sorry.”

“I know,” David says looking at Patrick with wide eyes. “I know you are. Which makes this so much harder.”

Patrick’s eyes rake over David’s face, searing him into his mind and takes a step back. “Okay, David,” he says softly. “I’ll go.”

He walks to the door, his body screaming at him to stay, his guy telling him he can’t walk away. But the look on David’s face tells him he’s not welcome here anymore, that any chance he could have had with David Rose is gone, lost in between the register and the shelf of orange blossom candles.

When Patrick first woke up from his accident, the first thing he noticed were how many flowers were in the room. Beautiful and bright bouquets of roses surrounded him, physical manifestations of people’s well-wishes and their hopes for his recovery. Every possible shade of roses were delivered to him. Roses from his aunts, uncles and cousins. Roses from his parent’s neighbors. Roses from childhood friends. Roses from Rachel.

They all blurred together, except for one small bouquet of white forget-me-nots in a blue vase. It was simple and elegant and looking at them gave Patrick the peace he needed to get through the panic of his lost memories. There was no name or card attached to the flowers and his parents also did not know where they came from. But as all the other flowers began to inevitably wilt away and die, the white forget-me-nots lived until he was discharged two weeks later. He kept the vase in his room by his window sill, the morning sun reflecting through the glass as it gently woke Patrick up from his sleep every morning.

Patrick paces his motel room for the rest of the day, his mind overtaken by his conversation with David.

He overstepped. He overstepped a boundary he didn’t know was there, but it was ruined everything he has built up with David so far. How can he go back? How can he go back to where they were, teasing him and feeling his gut twist every time David smiles?

He needs Stevie. Stevie will know.

Patrick walks out of his room and to the office, his pace quick and determined.

“Stevie, I need to talk to you-” Patrick says barging through the office. But seated at the desk is not Stevie. Instead an older man with salt and pepper hair and thick, dark eyebrows looks back at him in shock, his hands frozen over the keyboard of the computer.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Patrick says embarrassed. “I thought Stevie would be here.”

“She usually is, but she’s requested the rest of the day off,” the man says turning his body towards Patrick. “Maybe I can be of assistance?”

“I, uh, no that’s fine, I can figure it out on my own,” Patrick stutters out, walking backwards towards the door.

“You’re Patrick, right?” The man asks.

“Yes, I’m Patrick,” Patrick says surprised. “Patrick Brewer.”

The man smiles at him warmly. “Hello, Patrick. I’m Johnny Rose, I’m Stevie’s partner.”

“Rose,” Patrick whispers to himself. “You’re David’s father, aren’t you.”

“Why yes,” Mr. Rose says, his eyebrows raising. “You know my son?”

Patrick shoves his hands into his pockets. “I uh, I’ve been to his store a couple of times.”

“Ah, I see. David’s store has become quite a community landmark,” Mr. Rose says with obvious pride. “I was skeptical at first, but I can’t tell you how happy I was to be proven wrong.”

“He’s wonderful,” Patrick agrees before quickly amending, “I mean the store. The store is wonderful.”

Mr. Rose looks at him carefully, very similar to how Alexis and Mrs. Rose has looked at him over the past week. “My son fell on some hard times a few months back. But I’m proud to say the store is stronger than ever.”

“What happened a couple of months ago?” Patrick asks, unable to stop his curiosity.

“Well, he had a partner that is no longer in the picture. They grew the store together. But due to some unforeseen circumstances, David was left by himself with the store. He struggled, but with the help of the community and his own determination, he was able to turn things around,” Mr. Rose says shaking his head. “There was a time in his life when I thought I would have to keep David floating. But it turns out, he’s been doing that by himself all along. Both of my kids really.”

“Do you know why his partner left?” Patrick asks, hating himself a little.

“It’s a bit complicated I’m afraid,” Mr. Rose replies. “It was quite an ordeal for David. We were all very worried. But once again, he proved us all wrong.”

Patrick nods his head, his thoughts consumed by David and his strength. “Thank you, Mr. Rose.”

“My pleasure, Patrick,” he replies warmly. “Swing by if you need anything.”

“I will, have a good night,” Patrick says reaching for the doorknob.

“Goodnight, Patrick.”

Patrick can see the lookout ahead of him just as the pain in his left leg begins to be unbearable. It’s beautiful, the perfect view of the world that makes Patrick feel smaller than he’s ever felt.

He settles down on a rock, extending his left leg out to dull the pain, Patrick taking in deep breaths of the crisp air.

And although the magnificent view would normally make Patrick feel better, the clawing sensation of David’s pain keeps him from feeling anything but sadness, disappointment bubbling underneath his skin.

As pathetic as it was, Patrick sat at the counter of the café last night watching David through the window, unable to stay away from him for very long. He stayed there until David left the store, his shoulders hunched, his face tucked down. Patrick left after him, his sandwich untouched, his heart in the pit of his stomach.

Something terrible happened with David’s partner, something that left David to pick up the broken pieces of himself.

Patrick can’t imagine leaving David or the store. They deserve to be cherished. And Patrick could cherish them. If he only had the chance.

He buries his face in his hands and lets out a shuddering breath. He’s supposed to be leaving tomorrow. His reservation at the motel is up the next morning at 10am and his parents are expecting him to come back. But how can he go back when something is here?

Someone, his mind corrects. Someone.

He makes Patrick feel okay. Which is insane because Patrick has known the man for less than a week. How can you develop something so strong for someone in such a short amount of time?

Patrick stands from the rock and walks carefully to the ledge, staring outward towards the world and asks himself what he wants.

I want something real. I want something that will last. I want something memorable.

Memorable, Patrick thinks to himself ironically. Definitely memorable.

With one last look towards the horizon, Patrick turns back to the trail, his thoughts consumed by David. But he takes a wrong step and a sharp pain shoots up his left leg, Patrick staggering forward and knocking his shoulder against a tree.

“Fuck,” Patrick whispers harshly, rubbing his palm against his thigh, willing the pain to go away. He takes a deep breath through his nose and tries to stand up straighter, being careful not to put too much of his weight on his left side. But as Patrick lifts his gaze up the tree bark, he’s met with a clumsy carving of letters, blinking dumbly at them, his mind reeling.

Etched into the bark of the tree are the letters, “PB x DR,” and Patrick finds himself going down to the ground.

Rachel asked him to do it when they were sixteen. They had been dating for a little bit over a month, both smitten with each other with the kind of puppy love you can only have when you’re kids. They were hanging out in her backyard when she asked if he could carve out their initials into the bark of the large oak tree. He laughed at her and said that was too cheesy, kissing away her pout. But Patrick didn’t want to do it because it seemed too permanent. It was too scary to go and make eternal promises and etching their names into an old oak tree that would continue to outlive them was too much. He didn’t think he could ever do it.

But staring back at him was an eternal promise, a declaration of something real, something that can last, something memorable.

And it’s supposed to be wonderful. He found something here. Something tangible, a real piece of his past staring back at him. An answer.

But Patrick doesn’t feel relief. He doesn’t feel happiness. He feels anger. Anger for being tricked. Anger for being lied to.

David lied. David lied to him.

He stands back up and makes his way down the trail, his leg pulsing in pain. But Patrick pushes it away and quickly makes it back to his car. His mind is racing, the blood in his veins pumping with rage as he drive back into Schitt’s Creek.

He parks in front of the general store, swinging his car door open, slamming it shut.

“Tell me the truth,” Patrick demands, storming through the door. David stops unpacking a cardboard box and looks up at Patrick in surprise. “Excuse me?”

“You know me,” Patrick says walking towards David. “I know that you know me. I know that this town knows me. Tell me the truth.”

David’s eyes widen and he takes an unsteady step backwards. “I-I I don’t know-”

“Dammit David!” Patrick says sharply, making David jump again. “I know that you’re lying, that you’ve been lying to me. Why? Why won’t you tell me the truth.”

David continues to stare at Patrick, his hands beginning to tremble by his sides. “The truth,” David says quietly. “You want the truth.”

“Yes,” Patrick replies roughly. “Tell me the truth.”

David is quiet, blinking at Patrick with a blank stare. “We do know each other.”

Patrick’s breathing begins to quicken. “And?”

“You were my business partner, you helped me build this store,” David continues, his voice shaking. “You made this store.”

Patrick takes a sharp breath. “Your partner. I was your partner? Why keep that from me? Why lie?”

David’s eyes finally dart away from him, to the floor, his hands limp by his side. “I wanted to protect you,” he says weakly.

“Protect me from what?” Patrick asks, taking a step towards David.

David looks back up at him, his eyes wet and broken and Patrick’s insides twist painfully. “From me,” he whispers.

“You?” Patrick breathes out. “Why would you need to protect me from you?” Patrick demands.

David squeezes his eyes tightly, his face scrunched up tightly. “You had a life, Patrick. A good, normal life. How could I compete with that? I took myself out of the picture after your accident. I gave you a fresh start.”

“You kept my memories from me,” Patrick says, his voice shaking. “You made sure no one told me anything about my life here.”

“Yes,” David whispers.

“You had no right doing that!” Patrick shouts. “You had no right keeping my memories from me! They’re mine! I deserve to have them!”

“I did it for you,” David snaps back. “You didn’t belong here.”

“I have spent months trying to figure out who I am and you took that from me,” Patrick says angrily. “You lied to me, had everyone in this town lie to me.” Patrick grips his hair tightly in his hands. “Fuck!”

“I didn’t know what else to do,” David says. “I thought what I did was for the best.”

“You were wrong,” Patrick spits out before storming out of the store, his hands shaking as he clambers back into his car and drives quickly to the motel.

Stevie is reading a book at the counter when Patrick storms in. “Tell me everything.”

“Hello to you too,” Stevie says with surprise. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I know you’ve been lying to me,” Patrick says and Stevie shuts her mouth tightly. “I know David has been lying to me. I know I have history here. Tell me the truth.”

Stevie blinks at him before carefully marking the page she was reading and closing her book.

“Okay,” she says coming around the corner. “But not here. Let’s go for a drive.”

Stevie drives them to a bar in the outskirts of town, the old sign above the door saying “The Wobbly Elm”.

But they don’t go inside. It’s only 10:30am and the bar is closed. So they sit in her car in the empty parking lot when she tells him everything.

“You moved to Schitt’s Creek last May. You were working for Ray Butani while also living there when David came in to file his incorporation papers. According to David, you were incredibly snarky and a menace, but there was something there, something that could be good. From that point on you would come into the store as David was setting it up. David used to text me every time you came in and it was pretty obvious from the get go that there was an attraction between you two. I mean, you don’t spontaneously go into business with a random stranger unless you feel something strong,” she says with a pointed look towards Patrick. Patrick looks away from her gaze and out the window.

“You invested your money into the business,” she continues. “And also got some grants for the store and you guys did a pretty good job together. I mean really, you guys kind of balanced each other out. It was a big deal when the store first opened, the entire town showed up. There’s a picture of the two of you,” Stevie says reaching into her pocket for her phone, pulling up a photo. It’s him and David, their arms thrown around each other’s shoulders, wide smiles on their faces, looking so happy, so satisfied.

You didn’t belong here, David had said. But Patrick did. If that smile said anything, it told him he was happy and that he was home. He found home in Schitt’s Creek and in David, his finger tracing the dimple on David’s cheek.

"Then about two weeks after the store opened, you asked David out on his birthday,” Stevie says and Patrick takes a sharp breath. “The dingus didn’t know it was a date though, so he invited me to dinner with you guys. I tried telling him for weeks that it looked like you were interested in him, but he blew it off every time, kept telling me someone like you would never like someone like him. But I knew. I mean, everyone knew. And the moment I walked into the café that night, I knew I crashed your date because of the look on your face. I left and the next morning he had the dumbest look on his face. And honestly, the next couple of months after that were good. You both really liked each other. And then, the accident happened,” Stevie says taking a harsh breath.

“You were out on a vendor run. David was supposed to go, but Alexis was going through a hard day because of her ex-boyfriend and you volunteered to go instead. When he got the call from the hospital about your accident, David went crazy. He actually kind of stole my car and drove himself to you. I told him he was a dumbass for pulling that shit, driving when he was so emotional, but all he could think about was you. When he got to the hospital, the doctors wouldn’t let him see you because he wasn’t family. So he called your parents and they drove down to see you. He knew this wasn’t the best way to meet your boyfriend’s parents, but what could he do? It also didn’t help that your parents didn’t know David was your boyfriend at all.”

Patrick snaps his head towards her in shock, but Stevie continues. “He didn’t out you. But it hurt him to know that they didn’t really know about him. That he was just your business partner.”

“What?” Patrick whispers out. “You didn’t tell us much for months, Patrick. We were worried, but you called us every week to tell us you were okay, that you were happy.”

“He didn’t want to be the person to tell your parents that you were dating. He said that that was something that was yours. So he pretended to just be your friend. David stayed at the hospital with them, bringing them food and helping them get settled in Elmdale while you recovered.”

“But why keep this from me?” Patrick asks confused.

“Because three days after your accident, Rachel showed up,” Stevie says. “And that just about did it for David.”

“Fuck,” Patrick whispers, running his hands over his face.

“He was in the lobby with your parents when she came, introduced herself as your fiancé and watching her interact with your parents confirmed for him that you had this other life to live, a better life than what you could have ever had with him,” Stevie says sadly. “He didn’t want to stand in your way.”

“I don’t understand,” Patrick says with frustration.

“You didn’t tell your parents much about your life here, but you also didn’t tell David much about your life back there. You kept a lot of secrets. And for David, he was always waiting for the other shoe to drop. So when Rachel showed up, David took that as his sign to give it up, to give you up. He was convinced that this was the universe’s way of telling him he couldn’t have you anymore and that his time with you was up. And when the doctors told him you suffered from amnesia, David used that to give you your life back. He told your parents you lived in Elmdale and that he would help settle your apartment so that you could move back home. He packed up your things at Ray’s and brought them to your parents. And then,” Stevie saying taking a deep breath. “He bought you out.”

“He bought me out,” he repeats weakly.

“He wanted to make sure you could do whatever you wanted to after you got out of the hospital. So he transferred your cut to your parents and made them promise to never tell you about him, about the store you co-owned in Schitt’s Creek. Your parents were confused, but David convinced them that this was for the best,” Stevie lets her head thunk against the headrest. “It killed him to do it. Not to mention it made the store struggle for a while. But David worked really hard to make sure it didn’t go under. Kept saying how you wouldn’t want the store to be lost too.”

Patrick lets his head fall back too, staring blankly ahead as Stevie’s words swirl in his head.

We were together. David was my boyfriend. We owned the store together.

“Where was he when I woke up?” Patrick asks, his voice rough.

Stevie chews on her lips before saying, “He was there. He was outside the door. And when your mom came out and told him you were awake, he left.” Stevie stares outward into the parking lot. “I’m not telling you this to make you feel bad, but David was a mess when he came home that day. He hasn’t really been the same.”

“How?” Patrick croaks out.

“He’s used to people leaving him. He’s had a pretty terrible history when it comes to relationships, and his stories always end with people leaving him. But you were different. You were an anomaly, so when you left, it killed him a little. Because you didn’t leave in the same way the others have. You didn’t wake up one day and say, ‘You’re too much’. You left him without meaning to. And that hurt him more.”

Patrick closes his eyes as he feels tears beginning to build. “I had a life here.”

“You did,” Stevie agrees. “A pretty damn good life to be honest. You were really happy here with him. And he was happy too.”

Patrick nods his head. “I yelled at him today,” Patrick says, his voice catching. “I yelled at him and I feel like shit.”

“He deserves it. I told him it wasn’t right. But he wouldn’t listen to anybody,” Stevie says rubbing her face.

“He said he did it to protect me,” Patrick says rubbing his temples.

“That’s partly true. But he also did it to protect himself. He didn’t think you could fall for him again a second time. Said he couldn’t survive you rejecting him after what you two have been through.”

“He’s wrong,” Patrick laughs weakly through his tears. “It’s been a week and I’m crazy about him. I don’t think I can ever not fall for him.”

“So then, what are you going to do now?” Stevie asks turning to him.

Patrick closes his eyes and takes a deep breath through his nose. “Can you drive me back there?”

David isn’t on the main store room when Patrick walks in, the usual ambient jazz music turned off. So when the shop bell jingles, the sound is sharp and too loud and Patrick winces before shutting the door gently behind him.

“So sorry I’ll be with you in just a moment-” David says coming out of the backroom before stopping short when he sees Patrick. His eyes are red-rimmed and his cheeks are rosy and Patrick wants to gather David in his arms. But he stands by the door, shoving his hands in his pockets, suddenly too aware of how quiet the store is.

“Hi,” Patrick breathes out.

David crosses his arms against his chest and looks away. “Here to yell at me more?”

Patrick winces and shakes his head. “I’d like to talk.”

David is quiet before he nods his head stiffly. “Lock the door and flip the sign. It’s Saturday which means Roland will be coming in wanting to replenish on some foot cream and I really don’t want that verbal exchange with him today,” he says before turning around and walking back through the curtain.

Patrick flips the lock and sign and follows after him, rubbing his sweaty palms on his jeans.

David is sitting on a worn, brown leather couch, his hands on his lap, his fingers twisting and pulling at the wide silver rings on his right hand. Patrick sits on the opposite side of the couch, farthest away from David and it feels like they are oceans apart.

The backroom is small, cardboard boxes piled up high. There’s a small table with two chairs on the right side of the wall, various papers scattered around.

You made this store, David had said as Patrick looks around. How many hours did he spend pouring over paperwork back here? How many long nights did he spend with David drafting up vendor agreements?

You both really liked each other.

How many days did they spend together laughing? How many moments did they share together that shook Patrick’s world?

Patrick runs a his hand over the old couch and imagines the two of them sitting here, their bodies pressed close together, David smiling at him so beautifully and pulling him in for a kiss because he could. Kissing David. God Patrick wishes he could remember.

He turns his head and watches David, his body still and rigid his eyes locked down at the floor. He wants to comfort him, but Patrick still has too many questions, too many thoughts.

“Can you tell me from the beginning?” Patrick asks gently. David closes his eyes and nods his head, letting out a deep breath. “We met at Ray’s house. I came in to fill out paperwork for the store and you were there being very unhelpful.”

Patrick’s lips twitch upward. “Sounds about right.”

“You filled out my forms for me later that day, though, which was nice of you I guess,” David says with a grimace. “And you came into the store a couple of times after that to interrupt my design process.”

“God forbid,” Patrick teases and David turns to him with surprise before the side of his mouth lifts slightly.

“You helped me,” David says swallowing hard. “You helped me unpack boxes and move furniture, and I didn’t know why. And then you came in with a proposition to invest in the store with grants and suddenly we were partners,” David says looking away again. “This store meant a lot to me, means a lot to me. I found out only a few months prior that my entire professional career was an elaborate sham orchestrated by my parents, so I needed this to work. And you helped me,” David says quietly. He’s twisting his rings more now, his face facing back down towards the floor.

“When we opened and had so many people in the store, I felt happy. I felt happy that it worked. But I felt happiest because I got to share it with you,” David says taking a deep breath. “I shouldn’t have taken the store away from you. You worked so hard, you built this with me and I kept it from you,” David says looking up at Patrick. His eyes are wet and they are so remorseful and it strikes Patrick in his heart. “I’m sorry, you don’t know how sorry I am.”

Patrick nods his head. “I know, I know you’re sorry.”

David looks away again, his breathing uneven, looking wrecked and broken. “Half of this store is yours Patrick. It’ll always be yours.”

“Thank you, David,” Patrick says gently. “I appreciate it, I really do, but,” Patrick says taking a deep breath. “Why did you keep us from me too?”

David’s head snaps towards Patrick in shock. “What?”

“I know we were together, David,” Patrick says. “Stevie told me, but felt something the moment I saw you and I’ve felt things since. Why lie? Why did you break up with me?” Patrick asks with a shuddering breath.

David’s mouth opens and closes mouth multiple times before he stands up abruptly from the couch. “I can’t do this,” he says before storming out.

Patrick jumps to his feet and follows him out quickly. “David, please, talk to me.”

“This was a terrible mistake,” David says pacing the store floor, running his hands through his hair.

“David,” Patrick says firmly. “Please, tell me. I need to know. Why give up what we had? I know what we had was good, what did I do?”

David stops pacing and turns to Patrick, his eyebrows knit tightly together as he looks at Patrick bewildered.

“What did you do?” David asks shocked. “You didn’t do anything but be good. You were so good. This was about me.”

“What are you talking about?” Patrick asks.

David crosses his arms tightly against his chest and looks up at the ceiling. “I’m not a nice person, Patrick. I’m not like you, I’m selfish and dramatic and all the things you don’t need in your life. I’m not the type of person you bring home to your parents,” David says with a shuddering breath and Patrick winces at his words. “I’m damaged goods. How could I keep you when you had something better back there?” David asks.

“What?” Patrick breathes out in confusion.

“A family who clearly missed you every day you were gone! A job that made you more money than the store could ever give you! A beautiful fiancé who came chasing after you! That life!” David exclaims, waving his hands in the air.

“That life David? The life I ran away from? The life that made me miserable? Why would you think I would want to go back to that? When I had this?” Patrick says gesturing around the store. “When I had you,” Patrick says pointing at David.

“Don’t,” David says, his face twisting.

Patrick shakes his head and continues on. “David, I don’t remember what happened that made me leave, but I did. And I know I left because I was suffering, because I couldn’t stay there,” Patrick says, the desperation in his voice sharp. He doesn’t need that memory to know the feeling of desolation and misery that’s been in his bones for several years.

“Leaving there meant coming here. And I did it again, David,” Patrick says taking another step towards him. “David, I have spent most of my life not knowing what right was supposed to feel like, but then I spend less than a week with you to know,” Patrick says walking towards him. “I could have spent the rest of my life not knowing if I hadn’t found you again.”

David shakes his head, his eyes wet. But Patrick pushes on. “You make me feel right, David,” Patrick says fiercely.

“Please, just stop,” David begs.

“No,” Patrick says fiercely. “I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you about my parents or about Rachel. I think I was scared,” Patrick says swallowing hard. “I know I was scared. I was scared of disappointing them. I was scared of hurting them. But I hurt you. God, David,” Patrick says running his hand through his hair. “I hurt you, I know I did, so I want to be brave now. So don’t for a moment think that I didn’t care about you, about what we had.”

“You don’t remember,” David says. “You don’t remember so how can you know?”

“David I knew the moment I saw you,” Patrick replies, stepping into his space. “David, David I knew. I know,” he whispers.

David shakes his head and takes a step back, but Patrick follows him, holding onto David’s arms and keeping him from moving away. “I left home knowing I had to find you. I knew you were somewhere near,” Patrick says.

“Patrick, please,” David whispers brokenly.

“David,” Patrick says quietly, reaching his hand to cup David’s cheek who leans into his touch in despite of himself, his body shaking. “David,” Patrick breathes out, saying his name like a prayer.

Patrick doesn’t know who moves first, but they’re kissing, David’s lips pressing so sweetly against Patrick’s, his world shifting and sliding from beneath his feet. Patrick winds his arms around David, pulling him close, closer, until they’re pressed tightly together, one unbreakable, cosmic force.

Patrick’s body is on fire, burning hot and red and he wants to be consumed by David’s heat, burrow deep within him so he’s never lost again. It feels new and exciting, but it feels like home, Patrick thinks wildly to himself. It feels like he’s coming home.

Patrick sighs against David’s mouth, seeking more, needing more, when David rips himself away, tumbling backwards with wide eyes, gasping for breath.

They stare at each other in silence, the sounds of their breathing filling up the store.

“We can’t,” David says after his breathing evens out.

“David,” Patrick says, stepping towards him, but David pushes his arms out in front of him. “No! We can’t,” David says again. “Not like this.”

“David, I’m not wasting another moment without you,” Patrick says frustratedly.

David shakes his head and takes a deep breath. “There’s still so much that needs to be sorted out. We can’t jump into this so quickly. We have to go slow.”

“Go slow,” Patrick repeats weakly.

“Yes,” David says nodding his head. “We need some time to figure things out.”

“David,” Patrick says running his hands through his hair.

“I spent six months trying to pick myself up after you left,” David continues on. “I’ve been trying to move on without you. Please, just take some time to know for sure.”

“David, I’m certain about this,” Patrick replies, but David keeps shaking his head.

“This is a lot to unpack in one day, Patrick,” David says softly. “There’s a lot that we still need to work through.”

Patrick squeezes his eyes tightly and lets out a groan knowing David is right. He hasn’t even spoken with his parents yet. “Okay, David.”

“If we do this,” David says gesturing between them. “If we want to try this again, I’ll be here, and then we can start from the beginning.”

“The beginning,” Patrick repeats, and smiles softly at David. “Okay, the beginning.”

“Okay,” David says, a small smile on his face as well.

Patrick walks into the motel office and Stevie jerks her head up from where it was laying on the counter, blinking at Patrick. “So, how did it go?”

“Okay, I think,” Patrick replies, leaning on the counter.

“So, what now?” Stevie asks.

“I have to go home and talk to my parents,” Patrick says with a deep sigh.

Stevie nods her head. “So you’ll be checking out a day early?”

“Yes,” Patrick says. “But don’t give my room away. I’ll be back soon.”

“My sweet boy,” Patrick’s mom’s says five hours later, running down the steps to greet him. “I’m so happy you’re home a day early. We missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Patrick says hugging his mom tightly. “Where’s dad?”

“In the kitchen. He’s cutting up carrots for dinner,” she says tugging Patrick into the house.

“Hi dad,” Patrick says walking into the kitchen. “Son!” His dad says putting down the knife and pulling Patrick in for a hug. “Glad to have you back home.”

“I’m happy to be back,” Patrick says sitting down at the kitchen table.

“So, tell us, have you found anything?” His mom asks, sitting down across from him.

“I think so,” Patrick says softly. “I um, have some questions for you both actually.”

“Sure, son, what is it?” His dad asks also sitting down.

Patrick pulls at his fingers before he asks, “Can you tell me everything you know about David Rose?”

His parents blink at him in shock before looking at each other. “Oh, dear,” his mom breathes out. “I’m guessing you’ve met David.”

“I have,” Patrick says nodding his head. “I know what he did. I know that he made you promise not to tell me about my life down there. But I’d like to hear everything you guys know,” Patrick says firmly.

“Of course you do, sweetheart,” his mom says clasping his hand with hers. “You deserve your memories. But David told us that this was for the best, that your life in Elmdale wasn’t so great.”

“He lied,” Patrick says shaking his head. “I didn’t live in Elmdale. I lived in Schitt’s Creek. And I know for a fact that I was very happy there. Deliriously happy.”

Their parents share a surprised look. “Schitt’s Creek? That’s not what David told us. We knew the store was there, but David told us you lived in Elmdale. He told us that you’ve been wanting to come back home,” his dad says, his eyebrows knit together tightly.

“Schitt’s Creek was home for me,” Patrick replies. “I loved our store. I was happy down there.”

“Oh dear,” his mom breathes out. “Why would he lie?”

“To protect me,” Patrick says, a knot forming in his throat. “He thought I would be happier back home.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” his mom says, squeezing his hand tighter. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Patrick says, swallowing hard. “We talked about it. He apologized and we’re doing okay. We’ll be okay,” Patrick says with determination in his voice. His parents smile at him, the same encouraging smile they’ve always given him whenever they wanted to let him know that they were proud of him. And that gives him the strength to continue. “He also did it because I was keeping something from you guys, something important.”

“What is it?” His dad asks gently.

Patrick closes his eyes as his heart begins to pound in his chest. His hands begin to tremble, but his mom just holds on tighter, anchoring him down. And then David’s face appears in Patrick’s mind and he feels a little bit braver.

“David was my boyfriend,” Patrick says with a shaky breath. “We were together. And I was happy.”

His parents are quiet and Patrick feels fear shoot down his body. He begins to pull his hand away from his mom when her grip on him becomes stronger.

“Patrick,” his mom says firmly. “You are the only thing in the world that matters to us,” she says with tears in her eyes. “And if David made you happy then that’s all we care about.”

Patrick takes a shaky breath and looks at his dad. “Dad?”

“We liked him,” he says without hesitation. “David is a good man. He helped when you were in the hospital. Got us whatever we needed. It was obvious that he cared about you a lot.”

Tears begin to stream down his face as Patrick takes in his parent’s words. “I don’t remember anything, but I know I was happy with him. I felt it the moment I saw him.”

“Oh, my sweet boy,” his mom says standing from her chair and wrapping her arms tightly around him. “It’s okay, it’ll all be okay.”

“We would call the store at least once a week,” his mom says later that night when the three of them are settled in the living room, his parents telling him everything they knew. “David was so lovely whenever he picked up the phone,” she says holding onto Patrick’s hand. “So kind and always sending us things from the store. It really sounded like you two were doing so well.”

“Which is why we were so shocked when David told us you were unhappy,” his dad says shaking his head. “We should have known better. We should have seen it.”

“How could you have seen it? I kept so much from you,” Patrick says with real guilt. Guilt for keeping his parents away. Guilt for keeping David away from them.

“No, Patrick,” his mom says squeezing his hand tighter. “We should have known. Because you were different down there than you were back here.”

“How?” Patrick asks confused.

His mom smiles softly at him and pats his hand. “You sounded like you.”

Patrick closes his eyes and lets out a rough breath through his nose. “So many secrets.”

“He told us not to tell you,” his mom says sadly. “He said he didn’t want the burden of the store to be on you during your recovery. David said he would handle everything there.”

“We have your cut in our account,” his dad says. “Ready for you to do whatever you want.”

Patrick rubs his face tiredly. “There’s only one thing I want to do,” Patrick replies from the couch.

His mom rubs his shoulder with gentle circles. “We know. And we know it’ll be different this time,” she says cupping his face with her palm. “It’ll be okay.”

Patrick closes the trunk of his car a week later and turns back to his parents, gathering his mother in his arms as tears begin to run down her face. “I love you,” he says into her hair.

“I love you too,” she says pulling back and cupping his face. “My sweet boy.”

“We’ll be down in two weeks to see you,” his dad says wrapping an arm around his mom’s shoulders.

“That should be enough time for me to be settled,” Patrick says nodding his head. “Ray said I can look at the apartment the moment I’m back down there.”

“Call us when you get there,” his mom says kissing his cheek.

“I promise,” Patrick says. “I love you both.”

“We love you too,” his dad says with a grin. “Go and get him, son.”

Patrick grins back and gets into his car, waving his hand out the window as he drives down the street.

“I’m glad you’ve decided to move back down here, Patrick,” Ray Butani says as Patrick signs his lease agreement.

“I’m glad to be back too,” Patrick replies with a smile. “I can’t thank you enough for finding me this place on such short notice.”

“My pleasure, Patrick,” Ray says with a bright smile. “I know you don’t remember, but we had a very good relationship as co-workers and roommates. This is the least I can do! Oh, speaking of,” Ray says reaching into his brief case and taking out a large manilla envelope. “These were a few bits and pieces that were left in the room that I believe are yours.”

“Thank you,” Patrick says taking the envelope in his hands.

“Of course, Patrick. Now, I have another meeting at 3 that I need to get to,” Ray says gathering up the papers and putting them in his briefcase. “The keys will be ready by Thursday. Do you have a place to stay until then?”

“I do,” Patrick says nodding his head. “I’ll swing by your office on Thursday to pick them up.”

“Fantastic. Well then,” Ray says standing up and extending his hand out to Patrick. “Welcome back to Schitt’s Creek.”

“Well, well, well,” Stevie says from the counter of the motel office as Patrick walks in. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Told you I would be back,” Patrick says with a grin. “Is my room still free?”

“Yes it is, and how long will you be staying with us until?” Stevie asks, turning towards the computer

“Just until Thursday,” Patrick replies.

“You’re only staying two days?” Stevie asks with an eyebrow cocked upward.

“Just until the keys to my apartment are ready to be picked up,” Patrick replies with a cheeky smile.

“Apartment,” Stevie says with a sly grin. “So you’re back for good?”

“Yes,” Patrick answers easily. “I’m back for good.”

“Does a certain someone know that yet?” Stevie asks.

“Nope, which is why I am popping over to the store to tell him now,” Patrick says, his nerves beginning to kick in.

Stevie’s eyes soften and she shakes her head. “You have nothing to worry about. He’s been a mess this past week without you.”

“I know, so have I,” Patrick says. “But I’m going to do this. I have to.”

“Go get ‘em, tiger,” Stevie says with a wink and Patrick laughs at her, waving his hand and walking out of the motel.

Patrick parks his car across the street from the general store and just watches David from the window for a moment. He’s still incredibly beautiful and Patrick feels butterflies in his stomach.

But before he leaves his car, he reaches for the manilla envelope Ray gave him, reaching for the contents inside.

There are a few papers, tax documents that are partially filled out. There’s an old keychain he got during a trip to the NASA Space Center when he was nine and a couple of guitar picks. And at the very bottom of the manilla envelope is a small ticket with “B13” printed on the front. Possibly garbage, but Patrick can’t bring himself to throw it out. Instead he tucks it carefully into his wallet.

With one more deep breath, Patrick gets out of his car and walks to the store with confident strides, his heart pounding against his chest.

“Welcome to Rose Apothecary, how can I-” David begins to say but immediately stops himself when he sees Patrick. “Hi-”

“I want to date you,” Patrick says cutting David off. David shuts his mouth and blinks at Patrick. “Um, what?”

“I want to date you,” Patrick says again slowly. “I, Patrick Brewer, would like to take you, David Rose, out on a date.”

“Excuse me?” David asks, his voice high.

"From what I’ve heard,” Patrick begins. “I wasn’t very clear with my intentions the first time around. Apparently my subtly was a little bit too subtle. So,” Patrick says taking a deep breath. “I’m being direct this time so you know without a doubt that I am asking you out on a date. Please don’t bring Stevie.”

David continues to sputter. “How did you know-”

“Stevie told me. She told me about our first date, about how we danced around each other because my intentions weren’t clear enough. So I’m being clear now. Because I am crazy about you,” Patrick says and David takes a sharp breath through his mouth. “I am absolutely crazy about you, David Rose. And I want to try again with you, it you’ll have me.”

David’s eyes are wide and he’s breathing raggedly. “Y-you, you want to date me?”

“Yes,” Patrick says with a smile. “You said you wanted to start again from the beginning. Well, I’m ready to start whenever you are.”

“Are you sure?” David asks softly. “I mean, this is quite the predicament and I know for many people I can be a lot-”

“Not for me,” Patrick says shaking his head.

David lets out a harsh breath and crosses his arms, staring up at the ceiling. “Even after all this, you still want to be with me?”

“Yes,” Patrick replies firmly. “I want you.”

David squeezes his eyes tightly and stiffly nods his head. “Okay,” he says softly.

Patrick smiles and walks backwards out the door. “I’ll pick you up at eight.”

“Okay,” David says again with a smile and Patrick feels at home again.

Patrick takes David out for pizza in Elmdale on their second first date later that night. David waxes poetics about the importance of correct sauce to cheese ratio and Patrick watches him talk with a twinkle in his eyes, absolutely smitten by David Rose.

And when Patrick drops David off at the motel, he leans in and kisses him outside of David’s door, the fireworks exploding inside of Patrick leaving him breathless and aching for more.

And although they both agree to take their relationship slow, the transition back into the store is quick, Patrick falling into the daily operations of the business seamlessly. Patrick buys back into Rose Apothecary and they store away the extra funds for future projects and renovations.

David tells him about their time together whenever Patrick asks, filling in the blanks as they go. When David asks him if he’s sad he hasn’t gained anything back yet, Patrick replies, “I’m done chasing my memories. I’d much rather chase you,” and David kisses him senseless.

His parents come down to see him two weeks later like they promised, his mom squeezing him tightly as his dad unloads the trunk of their car at the motel. David comes out of his room cautiously, standing awkwardly on the sidewalk, pulling at the sleeves of his sweater. But when Patrick’s mom catches David from the corner of her eye, she walks to him quickly and pulls him in for a tight hug as well, David standing there stiffly before melting into Marcy Brewer’s embrace.

David’s parents welcome the Brewers with a barbecue, Mr. Rose and his dad talking by the grill while his mom, Mrs. Rose and Alexis gossip at the picnic table. Stevie is lounging in the shade and David is sitting on Patrick’s lap, sipping on a glass of wine watching their families together.

They continue to grow together, making new memories and learning to communicate their feelings. Patrick opens up about his relationship with Rachel and David opens up about his past too. Patrick knows David still has fears about their relationship, so he works hard to make sure David knows that he will always find his way back to him.

“It was so hard,” David tells him one night, curled up into Patrick’s side on his bed. “I thought it would be easier to start over again. But it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

Patrick tightens his arms around David. “I’m sorry.”

“I felt like it was my fault. Like this all could have been avoided if I went out that day instead,” David’s voice thick with tears. “And when your parents came, I didn’t know how to make things right.”

“You made things right, David,” Patrick says into David’s hair. “You made everything okay.”

“I missed you. I drove everyone around me crazy. Even my dad didn’t want to talk to me,” David says with a wet laugh. “Everyone got sucked into my misery.”

Patrick kisses the top of David’s head and closes his eyes, his hand nestling onto his chest, feeling David’s heartbeat underneath his fingers.

“No more secrets,” David whispers into the night. “No more,” Patrick agree and kisses him gently, sealing their promise into David’s lips.

Two months later, Patrick finishes closing up the store and waits by the door to take David out for their two month anniversary dinner. But David hovers by register, biting his lip nervously.

“David? We gotta go if we don’t want to lose our reservation,” Patrick says from the door.

“There’s something I have to do first,” David says clearing his throat. He picks up a chair and sets it up on the left side of the store, guiding Patrick to sit down.

“What is this?” Patrick asks with a confused grin.

“Consider this your anniversary gift,” David says walking to the back of the store to where their stereo hookup is. David turns around and fiddles with something and just as Patrick is about to ask what’s going on, a booming base line fills the store and David turns back around, walking slowly towards Patrick with a gleam in his eyes.

“I call you when I need you, and my heart’s on fire,” Tina Turner’s voice croons, David singing along to her voice, shimmying his shoulders.

“You come to me, come to me, wild and wired,” Tina sings, David coming up to Patrick’s face close, his lips a breath away from Patrick’s when he slides away, his eyes sparkling with satisfaction.

“Oh you come to me, give me everyone I need,” David mouths as he circles around Patrick and extends his arm out with a dramatic flourish. It’s silly and ridiculous and Patrick knows in that moment he loves David Rose.

“Give me a lifetime of promises and a world of dreams,” David sings, continuing to dance around Patrick. “Speak the language of love like you know what it means.”

“Oh and it can’t be wrong, take my heart and make it strong, baby.”

Patrick watches David with a smile that can light up cities, completely enraptured by him, so in love he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

“You know people can see you right,” Patrick tries to tell David, gesturing towards the window behind them, but David continues on, Tina singing, “You’re simply the best. Better than all the rest. Better than anyone, anyone I’ve ever met.”

Patrick laughs, shaking his head, his foot tapping to the beat. “I’m stuck on your heart, I hang on every word you say. Tear us apart, baby I would rather be dead.”

David twirls and shimmies and loses himself in the song and in Patrick, his eyes bright and Patrick knows in that moment David loves him too. And suddenly something inside of him shifts. His head begins to squeeze, the music too loud, everything too much.

Patrick clutches onto his head, his vision swimming. “David?” He calls out, but David continues to lip-sync.

“Each time you leave me I start losing control, you’re walking away with my heart and my soul. I can feel even when I’m alone. Oh baby, don’t let go!” David sings from the floor, grabbing onto Patrick’s thighs.

And suddenly he sees David at Ray’s house in a black sweater with horizontal lines. He sees David at the store with Alexis, bickering about lip balm. He sees David with Stevie, wearing a plastic shower cap underneath a knit hat. He sees David by the cash register wearing a black and white animal print sweater, half eaten cupcakes and empty plastic wine glasses around them, pulling him into a hug that’s interrupted by flickering lights. He sees David at the café wearing a sweater with a large lightning bolt. He sees David in the same sweater in his car, David leaning forward and kissing him so sweetly. He sees David leaning against the register wearing a black sweater with red flames as he sings to him with his guitar, Tina’s lyrics on his tongue.

And he sees himself, carving their initials into the bark of a tree, feeling so drunk in love for David.

He sees David. David. David, David, David.

“Patrick?” David says worriedly, placing a warm hand on his cheek. “Are you okay?”

Patrick’s eyes are wet and he looks at David and knows him, knows them and more tears run down his face. “David,” Patrick breathes out, reaching for him, pulling him into his lap grabbing onto him, holding him tightly.

“It’s okay, I’m here,” David says rubbing his hand down Patrick’s back. “It’ll be okay.”

“David,” Patrick says pulling back. “I remember.”

David looks at him, his eyebrows furrowed together. “What?”

“I remember everything,” Patrick repeats, pressing kisses all over David’s face. “I remember us.”

David pulls back and his eyes are wide and wild. “Oh my God. H-How?”

“I don’t know,” Patrick says laughing through his tears. “I was just watching you and then all of a sudden everything came rushing back.”

“How is that possible?” David asks. “It’s been eight months since the accident, why is everything coming back now?”

“I don’t know,” Patrick says running his hands all over David. “I don’t know, but I don’t care. Because I have it all back. I have all of our moments back,” Patrick gasps out. “David, David.”

David kisses Patrick hard, knocking the wind out of him like he always does. It’s a messy kiss, desperate and eager, teeth knocking into each other because they’re both smiling, but it’s perfect. Because David’s heat coils around Patrick, cradling him close as his body settles into David’s familiar warmth, the warmth he felt when he shook his hand for the first time in Ray’s living room.

“Patrick,” David says breaking away, his breathing heavy, his hands cupping his face. “You know me?”

“Yeah, I do,” Patrick says softly, pulling David in for another kiss. “David,” Patrick whispers, nuzzling his face into David’s sweater. “David.”

David leans his forehead against his, taking a shaky breath through his mouth. “I’m here,” David says kissing Patrick’s eyelids.

“I found you,” Patrick says, tightening his arms around him.

“You did,” David whispers into Patrick’s forehead. “You found us.”

Patrick buries his face into David’s neck, kissing him on his pulse point. My spot, Patrick thinks to himself. The same spot he’s always kissed David before the accident.

David shivers from underneath him and kisses Patrick on the lips again, softer this time. He’s smiling at Patrick before his eyebrows pinch together and he’s frowning.

“What’s wrong?” Patrick asks, running his hand up and down David’s back.

“Nothing,” David says closing his eyes and tipping his head back. “It’s just that, you mean to tell me that me making a public mockery of myself is what brought your memories back?” David asks.

“Huh,” Patrick replies contemplatively. “Seems so. Although, that doesn’t explain away why they didn’t return when you accidentally knocked over the toilet paper display at the grocery store last week because you were too distracted by the incorrectness of the store not carrying a wider selection of gelato-”

“Okay, there were only five flavors available and the manager was very rude when I filed my complaint,” David defends.

“You bought four of the flavors,” Patrick replies deadpanned.

“And they were only moderately acceptable,” David replies crossing his arms.

“You ate all of them.”

“Okay, I think we’re done here,” David says standing up, but Patrick tugs him back down into his waist. “Oof,” David says when he sits back down.

“No, don’t go,” Patrick says wrapping his arms around his waist.

“This clingy koala thing you’re doing is not my style,” David says, glaring down at Patrick.

But then his mouth twitches and that’s all Patrick needs to pull him in, wrapping himself closer around David, kissing him as every spark inside of him is ignited. David kisses him back just as hard, laughing into his mouth, his hand cradled tightly around Patrick’s neck.

They call his parents, everyone laughing through their tears as Patrick’s mind coils around his forgotten memories. His parents are relieved and promise to come back down soon to visit them with promises to bring David some home baked cookies. They say they love him and that they’re so proud of Patrick and the life he’s built, of the life that will continue to grow. And when they tell David that they love him too, he hides his face into Patrick’s neck, his cheeks stained red, a shy smile on his lips.

Eventually they stand up because David’s stomach rumbles. They laugh their way to the café, having missed their dinner reservation in Elmdale, sharing a plate of mozzarella sticks.

And that night, tangled up in each other in Patrick’s bed, sharing a hundred kisses, Patrick whispers his favorite memories into David’s skin, new and old.

And just as they’re about to doze off, Patrick whispers, “I love you,” into David’s neck. David runs his hands down Patrick’s back and pulls him in tighter, “I love you too.”

They hold each other, Patrick’s head pressed into David’s chest. Minutes pass when Patrick feels David’s chest rumbling with laughter. “What is it? What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” he says shaking his head. “It’s just that,” David says looking away as his mouth twists to the side. “You got to fall in love with me twice. That doesn’t seem very fair.”

Patrick shakes his head and tightens his grip on David’s waist. “David, I fall in love with you every day.”

David’s face crumbles and he turns his face away. “God, that was incredibly cheesy.”

“But you love me,” Patrick says with a cheeky grin. David rolls his eyes and tucks himself closer into Patrick. “Yeah, a little bit.” And kisses him again and again.