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Stevie’s foot was tapping against the floor. It was incessant. Patrick’s eye twitched. He wanted to ask her to stop, but he also kind of wanted to see how much longer David could last without exploding.
From his vantage point at the counter, he watched as David ran his hands through his hair. That was a warning sign. That meant that David was very close to exploding.
Patrick couldn’t really hear what Stevie and David were whispering to each other. He strained to catch their conversation. It was already strange that Stevie pulled David aside to talk to him in the first place. Normally all three of them could have a conversation together, no matter the subject. But when Stevie had walked in with lunch for both David and Patrick, David’s shoulders had tensed.
Patrick picked up his tuna melt and took another bite. It was really nice that Stevie had thought of the two of them on her lunch break.
“Fine!” Patrick heard Stevie exclaim. “Jesus.”
Patrick’s head shot up and he watched Stevie leave the store. David let out a little huff and crossed his arms, watching Stevie go. Patrick tracked the tension in his boyfriend’s back. His sweater hung looser today, which made it difficult for Patrick to discern how upset David was.
“Back to the motel?” Patrick asked, as mildly as he could manage.
“Looks like it,” David said. His voice was level, but there was anger simmering in his face that he hadn’t yet gotten under control.
David was now tapping his foot against the floor. Patrick wanted to grind his teeth.
“Everything okay?” He asked, balling up the foil of his sandwich and throwing it into the garbage. “Stevie seemed a little upset.”
David pulled the sleeves of his sweater a little further over his hands and gripped the edges.
“Yeah,” he said, voice high and a little tight. “She just had some, um, motel questions. Dealing with my dad can be a lot on a good day, and he’s being particularly frustrating lately, I guess.”
Patrick winced.
“And she came to you about that? Isn’t that a little insensitive?”
“Not particularly, no.” David shook his head. He walked to stand a little closer to Patrick, but kept his eyes trained on the plants in the front window. “You should know by now that my family needs a particular kind of handling.”
“I think I had that part figured out.” Patrick bumped David’s hip with his own.
“Ew, Patrick,” David snorted. “Not that kind of handling, oh my god. We’re talking about my dad.”
“Fair.” Patrick wrinkled his nose and reached out a hand to fuss with the neckline of David’s sweater. “Guess I’m just good at handling you.”
A flush worked its way across David’s cheeks. Patrick bit back a smile.
“Well, that’s—" David cleared his throat. “That’s a different conversation.”
“Is it, David?” Patrick asked. He tried to keep his tone neutral, but even he could hear the fondness that came spilling out.
David made the little huffing sound he made sometimes, when he was frustrated or flustered. Patrick allowed the grin he’d been fighting to overwhelm his face.
“David,” he breathed, leaning in close to David’s ear, “you can take a break to eat your lunch.”
David’s lips pressed together. He shimmied a little in place.
“Thank you, Patrick,” he gritted out. He pushed off of the counter and made a beeline for the stockroom.
Patrick did his level best not to laugh out loud when he saw David’s sandwich still sitting untouched on the counter.
David fiddled with the menu, flipping one foldout page back and forth.
Patrick raised his eyebrows. Usually, David wasn’t one to fidget. Especially not in front of his family.
“Blood in the water, Patrick,” David had said to him, once, “they sniff out any weakness and pick away if they see it. Fidgeting around Alexis has been off the table since I was twenty and she got me to spill all the details of a torrid affair with Ricky Martin’s husband’s ex-boyfriend.”
While Patrick was preoccupied, trying to decide if he should cover David’s hand with his own or if that would draw even more attention to his fussbudget boyfriend, Twyla walked up to their table.
“Hi Roses,” she said, pulling out her notepad. “Mr. Rose, the special?”
David’s father nodded. His menu was still laying unopened on the table.
“Thanks, Twyla,” Johnny said. His voice was a little scratchy. Patrick hoped he and Stevie had worked out their differences. He didn’t want to be stuck talking motel business all night.
“Twyla dear, I will have the soup, please,” Moira piped up from her seat next to Johnny. “With a breadstick and a side salad, if you can rustle them up.”
Patrick looked down to mask his smile. Moira was warming up to him, and he didn’t want to be caught laughing at her. It would undo all of his hard work.
“Patrick?” Twyla asked.
“The veggie omelette, please,” he decided, closing his menu.
“Breakfast for dinner,” David murmured, “love that journey for you.”
Patrick smiled and reached out for David’s hand.
David reached for Patrick with one hand and folded his menu with the other.
“I’m actually not hungry—" David started to say, but was cut off by Moira putting a hand in the air.
“David, you and I were saying earlier that we had similar nosh in mind for this evening, yes?” She asked. “Twyla, I think it expedient to just get the same for David.”
Johnny smiled a little, busying himself with straightening his tie. There was something self-satisfied about his expression. Patrick wondered how Stevie was faring.
David’s back straightened slightly. A flurry of emotions flickered across his face: anger, sadness, and embarrassment. Patrick studied his boyfriend’s expression. It landed somewhere between reluctant fondness and dismissal.
“Thanks,” he said quietly.
“Roses!” Roland called from the door. Johnny and Moira turned to greet him, Jocelyn, and Roland, Jr., but Patrick took advantage of their distraction to lean in close to David.
“All good?” He asked. “Want something else? I bet I can still track Twyla down.”
“Sweet of you,” David whispered back. “I’m good, I was telling my mom I wanted soup earlier. Just not terribly hungry.”
Patrick nodded slowly. David not being hungry would normally raise his eyebrows, but today, David had been on vendor visits since lunch. The samples were usually more than enough to tide him over, and if Patrick wasn’t mistaken David had even made the trip to Warner Farms. It made sense that he didn’t have room for dinner.
“So that’s a no on mozzarella sticks, then?” He asked, keeping a straight face.
“Tempting,” David drawled, mouth drawing into a grimace, “but no.”
“So, Patrick,” Johnny asked, “not that these dinners at the cafe aren’t lovely, but are the two of you ever going to have us over for dinner at your apartment?”
“Well, once David gets fully unpacked, we can definitely revisit that conversation,” he said, smiling at his boyfriend. Live-in boyfriend, now that David had moved all of his things from the motel into his place. Closet space was still something of an issue, but David had actually brought a wooden chest that took care of a good portion of his sweaters. Not nearly all of them, of course, but it was still something.
“David,” Moira asked, “have you yet revisited my mother’s famed recipe in the new kitchen?”
David’s fingers went white where he was gripping the edge of the table.
“Your enchilada recipe?” David asked, voice light.
“I’m sorry,” Patrick said, chuckling at David’s pronunciation, “enchiladas?”
Moira turned her attention to Patrick, pride puffing her up.
“David and I made my mother’s enchiladas in Jocelyn’s kitchen eons ago, and I taught him how to fold cheese.”
“Okay,” David said, indignant. “That is not what happened. At all! And can you please, two years after the fact, admit that it was Adelina’s recipe and not yours?”
Johnny mumbled something under his breath as Moira worked herself into a tizzy of righteous indignation. Patrick couldn’t quite hear him, but it sounded like “slippery.”
Patrick frowned for a moment, but brushed it off. Johnny made a few comments like that, just random asides. And he really wanted to hear more about those enchiladas.
David and Moira’s foray into cooking carried the conversation for the rest of dinner, peppered with stories about Patrick’s college cooking misadventures.
When the family got up to leave, Twyla popped by and asked if David wanted a bag for his soup. Johnny held up his hand before David could speak.
“Best to not, I think, David,” he said. After Twyla left, he motioned for everyone to lean in. “It’s just a tied-up grocery bag.”
Patrick looked over and saw David smiling. Moira grabbed David’s arm and led him toward the door.
“Patrick, a moment,” Johnny said before he could follow his boyfriend out.
Patrick lingered, waiting for Johnny to put on his jacket.
“Something I can help with?” He asked.
Johnny hesitated, smoothing his hands over his lapels over and over again.
“Would love to come over for dinner whenever you all get settled,” he finally said.
“Of course,” Patrick said, smiling. It was sweet how much David’s parents missed him at the motel.
When the two of them reached David and Moira outside, his boyfriend’s arms were crossed in front of him while Moira busied herself adjusting her wig. They weren’t talking.
“Everything okay out here?” Johnny asked as they caught up.
“Fine,” David said quickly. “Well, this was an experience as usual.”
“This was really fun,” Patrick cut in. “Thanks for inviting us out. We hadn’t seen you in a while.”
“Yes,” Johnny said, something Patrick couldn’t read in his voice. “In a town this small, it’s normally so hard to avoid people.”
David made a strangled sound next to him.
“Weird,” he said. “Anyway, lovely night, safe drive home, goodnight.”
David turned on his heel and walked toward Patrick’s car.
Patrick smiled and bid the Roses goodnight, as well.
“Take care of each other,” Johnny said, a sad smile on his face.
Patrick nodded and jogged to catch up with David. He made a mental note to visit with David’s parents more frequently. They seemed lonely without David in the motel.
Seeing David in their store always sent a zing up Patrick’s spine. Whether he was dealing with customers, stocking the shelves, or talking to vendors, something in David settled when he was at work. David had been so stressed recently, with the move and bringing on new vendors for the spring, so Patrick relished any opportunity to see the tension in David’s shoulders loosen.
Even better were the times when Patrick could observe his boyfriend in his element without David knowing he was there. It was technically Patrick’s day off, but he realized mere minutes after David left that he had forgotten his laptop in the stockroom. Unwilling to ask David to trek to their apartment and back (and knowing that his boyfriend was already cutting it close when it came to opening the store on time), Patrick had shrugged on a jacket and made the journey on foot.
Stevie and Alexis were both in the store as well, following David around like ducklings as he straightened products and dusted shelves. David still had—Patrick checked his watch—ten minutes before the store opened. Maybe it would open on time today.
But the relaxation Patrick had so appreciated seeing in David was short-lived. Whatever Alexis and Stevie were saying had his hackles raising. David’s lips were pressed tightly together and his eyes were firmly trained on the shelves in front of him. Patrick had nothing against teasing David—in fact, he was probably the most frequent participant—but his boyfriend didn’t look like he usually did when their friends poked fun at each other. Normally, David played at being upset or at least was self-aware enough to allow teasing at his expense. A smirk usually played at his lips or was evident in his eyes, but the expression he wore now was different. He looked miserable.
Patrick watched Stevie’s lips move. Alexis did a little shimmy and nodded while David rolled his eyes skyward. That’s enough.
Patrick opened the door to the store. All three occupants of the store turned at the sound of the bell. While Patrick hoped that his presence would soothe David’s frustration, his boyfriend only looked more suspicious. His head whipped to Stevie, who raised her hands placatingly.
“Ah, don’t let me interrupt,” Patrick said. To his own ears, his words sounded like a question. “Just forgot my computer.”
“Makes it hard to have a day off,” David said. His voice was flat. Patrick watched David force a smile. “Stockroom?”
“Yep, that’s what I figured,” Patrick said. He took a few steps toward the back.
Should he say something? Was he a bad partner if he didn’t? Was he a worse partner if he did? David would surely catch him up later, but Alexis and David (and Stevie, sometimes to an even worse extent) had a habit of riling each other up, sometimes to the point of explosion. Their fights burned hot and quick, and although they usually cleared up just as fast as they had come on, they could get ugly.
Patrick felt the tension in the room like another person’s presence.
“Well, I’ll just,” he gestured vaguely toward the stockroom, “get out of your hair.”
As he walked away, Alexis spoke up.
“This conversation isn’t over, David,” she said quietly. Patrick was surprised she was even making an effort to be quiet; usually, she didn’t bother. “As your accountability friend—“
“First of all, you are not my accountability friend,” David’s flustered voice carried into the stockroom.
Patrick shouldn’t linger and listen to this conversation. He should ask David if he wanted to know more. He paused, for just a minute.
“And even if you were,” David continued, “there is no need to check in with an accountability friend. Everything is fine. I am fine.”
“Repeating the word ‘fine’ is usually a clear indicator of that,” Stevie’s lower voice cut in.
“You are already at the tippy top of my list, thanks so much,” David said. Hurt leaked into his voice. “Can you stop trying to catch me out in front of other people? There is nothing to catch out, and you’re getting worked up over nothing.”
“Nothing,” Alexis said. Patrick couldn’t see her, but he could just imagine her pointing at David or even trying to poke his nose. “Like what you’ve been—“
“Okay,” David cut his sister off.
Patrick should go. He gripped the laptop case and stepped out of the stockroom.
“So I’ve got everything I need,” Patrick said, gesturing toward the computer. “Gonna head out. See you for dinner tonight, David? Pizza okay?”
David’s face twisted up. Patrick couldn’t quite place the expression.
“Fine,” he said. He made a little huff. “Sounds good. Unless I get held up here or something.”
Stevie lifted a hand.
“Actually, I’m done at the motel at five,” she said.
David whirled to look at her.
“That is interesting and unnecessary information, but thank you so much for sharing,” he said.
“I can come close up so you two can get dinner.” Stevie was staring David down. “Unless there’s another reason you can’t do pizza for dinner?”
David looked at the shelves. It seemed like he was trying not to scream. A muscle in his jaw jumped.
“Yeah, David,” Alexis said, leaning against the counter and picking up a lip balm. Patrick grabbed the lip balm and put it back in the display. Whatever this was, it wouldn’t be helped by David’s sister “sampling” any more of their products without paying.
“Is there any other reason?” Alexis was smiling at Stevie. Patrick didn’t think the two of them had ever smiled at each other before.
“N-No,” David said. He swallowed. “Thank you, Stevie. See you later.”
Worry coiled in Patrick’s stomach. The reluctance came off of David in waves. What part of the night was giving him pause? He loved pizza, he loved Patrick, and he loved getting to leave work early.
“Great,” Patrick said, injecting as much cheer into his voice as he could. “See you for dinner, honey.”
David smiled at the pet name despite himself.
“Okay,” he murmured.
Patrick smiled at his boyfriend and turned to go, flipping the sign as he left.
A few hours later, Patrick checked his buzzing phone to see four new texts, one from Stevie and three from Alexis.
hey. not my place to say, but talk to your boyfriend. preferably while getting him dinner because he’s stubborn as fuck.
PAtrick!!!!
quick question: why is my bother so difficult???
omg I meant brother, but he DOES bother me
He smiled at the messages. They had come in within minutes of each other, so clearly the two of them had put their heads together before texting. But the subject had the smile fading nearly as quickly as it had come. The two women clearly were worried about David, but he didn’t know why. His stomach swooped at the thought that David didn’t want to tell him something. Their talk about trust early on had really set the tone for the relationship afterward, and they didn’t have secrets any more. So whatever this was, it was out of the ordinary.
For the moment, he sent off a group message to Stevie and Alexis before texting David as well.
Thanks for the heads-up. And for caring about him so much. And Stevie, we’ll try not to make a habit out of making you cover the store.
Hi, sweetheart. Looking forward to dinner. What toppings do you want?
Patrick drummed his fingers against the kitchen table. It was ten minutes after five, so David should be home any minute. Patrick’s boyfriend hadn’t responded to his text about toppings, so Patrick just got their usual. He threw in an order of garlic knots and a salad as well, the words of Stevie’s text playing on repeat in his head.
The food was spread on the counter, plates and wine glasses at the ready. Patrick resisted the urge to call David. He’ll be home soon, he reminded himself.
Patrick wanted desperately to call Alexis or Stevie and ask for more information, but he knew that he needed to talk to his boyfriend directly. Whatever this was seemed..big. Big in a way that required them to handle it right. No finding out from other people, or going forward on incorrect or missing information.
Patrick kept drumming his fingers. He took a sip of wine, poured from a bottle they were ostensibly sampling from the store. It was good. It helped him ground himself.
But did wine send the wrong message? Should he put out water too? He stood up and grabbed a few more glasses from the cabinet, then filled them with ice and water. But was it too much to have two beverages out? He dithered in the kitchen, hands outstretched. He flexed his fingers, unsure.
“What a thing to come home to.”
Patrick jumped. His eyes caught David’s. His boyfriend was closing the apartment’s door. Once he had locked it, he hung up his jacket.
Patrick let out a breath and shook himself while David’s back was turned.
“H-Hi,” he said.
“Hi,” David said, a smile playing at his lips. “This is a nice sight to come home to.”
Patrick felt heat bloom on the back of his neck. He rubbed at the spot, messing up the collar of his shirt.
“And you got all dressed up on a day you didn’t have to come into work.” David’s voice was even. Patrick studied his boyfriend’s face. A little too even.
David swallowed and broke their eye contact.
“So, dinner.” David sat down and crossed his legs at the kitchen table.
Patrick bit his lip. He wanted to have the conversation, but he didn’t want to push. But if he waited for David to start talking, he might be waiting a while. His stomach was too tied up in knots to think about eating, so the pizza might be wasted on him at the moment.
Patrick moved around the counter and sat down next to David at the table.
David let out a breath. He reached out a hand and grabbed one of Patrick’s.
“Before we eat—“ he said, words coming out in a tumble, one on top of the next. He took a deep breath. “Before we eat, I have something I need to talk about.”
Pride surged through Patrick. He tightened his fingers around David’s hand and raised it to his lips for a kiss.
“Of course, honey.”
“It is very much not a big deal and is not a continuing problem,” David said, pulling their entwined hands into his lap and studying them. “But. In the interest of…disclosure, I had a very small, on-and-off. Um. Food. Thing. A while before we came here.”
Patrick nodded slowly. Huh. That tracked with Stevie’s text. But David was still fidgety and uneasy, so there was more to be said. Telling David he was sorry to hear that would give him an out to end the conversation. Asking for specifics would be an excuse for David to clam up or make a joke. Patrick had to tread carefully.
“A food thing?” He asked.
“A very small, on-and-off food thing,” David said. “Years ago.”
“Years ago?” Patrick didn’t want to parrot David’s words over and over, but he had learned through experience that repetition walked the fine line between enough interest to keep David talking and enough distance to prevent him from feeling trapped or cornered.
“Started when I was like fourteen or fifteen.” David wouldn’t meet his eyes. “And occasionally it, ah. Happened other times.”
Patrick couldn’t handle repeating David’s words any more.
“Do you want to sit on the couch?” He asked. “The food will keep. If you want it later.”
David nodded fervently. When he didn’t move to stand, Patrick took charge. He stood up, pulling David to his feet as well, and grabbed both wine glasses by their stems and carrying them with his free hand.
He sat on one side of the couch and pulled his feet up onto the other cushion. David stood by the side of the couch, watching him settle with an uncertain expression on his face. He was fiddling with the hem of sweater, which hung a little lower than usual.
Patrick took in his boyfriend. Though he would never say it to David, there were slight dark circles under his eyes. His eyes were a little less bright than usual, as well.
He opened his arms and gestured for David to join him. David sank down slowly, and Patrick pulled him close, David’s back against his chest. Patrick frowned. David seemed smaller somehow, but he didn’t know how much of his perception was colored by what David was telling him. He resolved not to say anything until he had heard more.
“Okay,” Patrick hummed. “You were talking about your food thing.”
“No,” David said petulantly. “I was talking about my very small, on-and-off food thing.”
“When you say on-and-off—“ Patrick was cut off with a halfhearted gesture from David.
“I’m sorry, I can’t handle answering these questions. It’s so sweet,” David kissed Patrick’s hand on top of his own, “that you’re trying, but I think I just need to say this all at once. And I don’t have to look at you, so.”
Patrick buried his face in David’s hair. It was soft and smelled amazing, just like usual.
“Go ahead, honey.”
“Okay, so.” David took a shaky breath. “I stopped eating normally when I was fourteen or fifteen. Which I already said. So that’s a good start. Anyway. It continued through high school until I was like twenty-five or so. And then I got it under control and everything was fine.”
Patrick waited. David shifted a little in front of him. He kept waiting.
“Okay,” David said. It sounded a little like a wail. “So sometimes there are slips. But slips are a very normal part of recovery and are easily controllable. Because it is very hard to unlearn years of thinking.”
David sounded like he was repeating another person’s words.
Patrick bit his lip. He held David a little tighter and pressed a kiss to the side of his head. Let him finish.
“And when we came here at first, I had a very minor, very normal slip. Because it was a time of upheaval and everything was up in the air and I was living in closer quarters with my family and people in general than I had probably ever. So my family saw my very minor, very normal slip and went berserk.”
Patrick felt something burning in his chest. He wanted to say something. He had to say something.
“Sounds like it was about time, if it started when you were fourteen,” he spat out the word like it physically hurt him, “and no one noticed.”
“Because it is a very small, on-and-off food thing!”
Patrick took a deep breath.
“So you had a slip a while ago. And your family freaked out,” he prompted David.
David harrumphed.
“So then they tried to send me to a recovery center, which would have been a wild overreaction to a very normal slip, and I told them about the recovery center I went to when I was twenty-five. And they got off my back for the moment, but they keep…checking in.”
David’s shoulders were somewhere around his ears. His breaths were coming a little fast. Patrick smoothed his hands down David’s neck.
“Hey,” he said into David’s ear, “I love you. Thanks for telling me.”
Patrick caught a glimpse of David’s face. The pained expression on his face was softened by a tiny smile playing at his lips. Protectiveness surged through Patrick. He wanted to go back in time and shake David’s family to make them see what David was doing. He wanted to go back in time and shake David to make him see how beautiful he is.
“So now you probably have questions.”
Patrick hummed as he thought. Where to start?
“What do you mean by on-and-off?”
“Well,” David said slowly. “Sometimes I was hospitalized for exhaustion. So it was firmly off at those times.”
Patrick’s back went ramrod straight.
“You were what?”
David threw up his hands.
“It only happened, like, three times!” His voice came out high and indignant. “My parents didn’t even come home after the first one.”
Patrick took a second to let out a breath. He tried to keep his voice as calm as possible.
“They didn’t come home. Even though you were in the hospital.”
“It was fine.” David waved a hand dismissively.
“Okay, we’re going to have a conversation about fine,” Patrick said. His voice was going low. Fuck.
“But it was!” David protested. “Again, I checked myself in for help at twenty-five, so. Nothing to worry about. All is well.”
“All is well,” Patrick repeated, dubious.
“Except for slips.”
“Okay,” Patrick said entwining his hands with David’s again. “Let’s talk about slips.”
“Like I said, the last one was when we first moved here. Everything was very out of control and uncertain and there was no space and nowhere to put things.” David’s voice was reedy.
“What does a slip look like for you?”
“I, um. I stop eating.”
Patrick blinked.
“Like, certain foods?”
“No,” David said. “Like, full stop. It’s not the best plan and it doesn’t last for too long because, surprise, you pass out if you don’t eat at all. But until that happens I get a little…reticent. About food. That’s the food thing.”
Realization. That’s what the feeling making Patrick sick to his stomach was. Realization and guilt. Because David had been reticent about food for the past week.
“Like when you don’t order dinner at the cafe?” Patrick couldn’t let his voice sound accusatory. Keep it neutral. “Or when you don’t eat the food Stevie brings you?”
David made a little “ah!” sound.
“Listen, I am well aware. I have been getting the third degree from Stevie and my family for days now. Everywhere I go, I see a revolving door of everyone’s concerned faces and food diary proposals.”
Patrick’s heart warmed.
“And now I’m telling you.”
Patrick pulled David impossibly closer.
“Now you’re telling me.”
“I wasn’t going to,” David said. “But I was at the store today, and I was. Thinking.”
“Thinking?”
“I wanted to tell you,” David blurted. He reached up a hand to cover his mouth as soon as the words came out.
David had made Patrick’s heart go gooey and warm before. But this time was special. It was a slow realization, like water cascading down and covering everything.
“Turn around, please, David,” Patrick’s breath was coming fast.
David made a noise of protest, but Patrick let out a whine that had David scrambling to look at his face.
Patrick grabbed both sides of David’s fave and kissed him. It was long and slow, with probably too much teeth to be altogether pleasurable, but it was perfect.
“I’m so happy you told me.”
David let out a little whine and buried his head in Patrick’s neck.
“I wish you had gotten help earlier, and I’m so sad I wasn’t there for you before now, but. I’m here now. And I want you to tell me these things. It's a big burden. So even if it's hard or you think it'll upset me, I want to know. I know there’s no quick fix and I know that my opinion won’t change yours. I do know you, after all, and you don’t take my opinion seriously on anything. But I want to help carry this. You’ve been carrying it alone for a long time, honey.”
Patrick rubbed a hand up and down David’s back soothingly.
“Hey, Patrick?” David lifted his head and looked at him.
Patrick made an inquiring sound.
David’s face crumpled. “I think I’m having a slip.”
“Okay,” Patrick said. He kept trailing his fingers up and down David’s back. “What can I do to help carry that?”
“I think I should eat something.” David’s tone was reluctant. “But pizza will be too much.”
“Rice? Toast? Soup?”
“Toast,” David decided.
Patrick made up the toast while David went to the bathroom to compose himself and wash his face. Patrick scrolled frantically through Google while David was occupied. He had a lot more research to do, but he felt like he at least had his feet under him for the night. When he came out, face still slightly damp, Patrick had two plates of dry toast on the table. The pizza was nowhere to be seen.
David stopped short when he saw the table.
“What are you doing?” He asked.
“Having dinner with my boyfriend,” Patrick said, smiling at David.
David’s face twisted up. It looked like he was going to cry again.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“But I’m going to.” Patrick took a bite. He didn’t look at David or tell him to sit down and eat. The websites were clear on that.
He snuck a quick glance over. David was glaring at the plate in front of him. Patrick’s heart sank, but he wasn’t going to give up so quickly.
“Would it be helpful if we watched something while we ate?”
“Oh my god, yes,” David said, grabbing his plate and moving toward the couch. “You pick the movie.”
Patrick followed after him and grabbed the remote.
“Whatever you say.”