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He can do this. He can pretend he’s not jetlagged, going off 2 hours of sleep in the last 72 hours, and miserable. He can do this... for Patrick.
Stevie’s eyeing him, her brows furrowed in a way that makes him worry because she looks worried… and she never worries. It’s then he realizes she’s not the only one looking at him, everyone is looking at him.
Oh, right.
He remembers now, the clink of a knife against a glass that got him thinking about just how exhausted he truly is, and not just physically.
Take a deep breath, and start at the beginning. Tell them how we first met. Tell them that this — that this has to be one of the happiest days of my life.
“Hi everybody... “ he says standing, smoothing down the jacket of his tux as he pulls the few, now crumpled, index cards from his inside pocket, shuffling them unnecessarily. He feels like he’s been rehearsing for this day his entire life, even though there’s always been a part of him that’s hoped…
“I’m David Rose, for those that don’t know. I’m Patrick’s best man and um, best friend? Which you may not have guessed due to the fact I nearly missed the ceremony. Um, anyway… this, this is one of the happiest days of my life.”
He says, his eyes scanning the crowd until they find Patrick’s. He does his best not to think about the fact mere hours ago he’d spent the entire van ride from the airport to the church in Twyla’s Uncle’s van sobbing at the thought of what he had to do today.
Taking another deep breath, he starts at the beginning.
[13 years earlier, 2007]
The pressure behind his eyes and the pounding in his skull tells him last night had been a success… just maybe a little too successful.
Well, he’s still clothed so not that successful.
He remembers Beyonce, Mariah, and an obscene amount of polar bear shots. The thrum of the bass and the nearness of his best friend’s warm and firm body as they moved together on the dance floor is definitely a thing that happened.
He remembers tipping back another shot, the mint chocolate taste sweet on his tongue, his eyes landing back on Patrick’s face as he sets the shot glass back on the bar. He’s highlighted with the blue and pink neon lights, their bodies swaying closer and closer in the push and pull of the crowd.
He remembers warm minty breath ghosting across his face, the tip of a nose running down the length of his own, the slow drag electrifying in the neon lights of the dance floor.
As David presses his palms against his tender eyes he can see them, feel them moving together, even with as blurry as his memory is… not knowing where his body ends and Patrick's begins.
David has spent a fair amount of time in recent years wondering if Patrick might be interested in men. He’s never had a girlfriend and he’s so openly affectionate with David that, well David’s not seen that, with straight men. Not that it can’t happen.
But they’ve held hands since they were kids, cuddled together in bed… but Patrick’s never made a move.
Not that David has either.
He rubs at his temples, willing his brain to remember anything else from last night, anything that may tell him how the hell he ended up back home in his own bed.
He thinks he remembers the wet slide of a tongue in his mouth that tastes exactly like a polar bear shot, but that’s got to be his own? Surely if he’d kissed Patrick, he’d remember. It must have been what he’d come up with after the alcohol decided to make his brain go offline.
He couldn't have kissed–
"Patrick's here!" Alexis screams from downstairs, and he lets out a groan, her shrill voice only increasing the pounding behind his eyeballs.
He's never been this hungover. He winces as Patrick rushes up the stairs to his room, his sneakers heavy as he undoubtedly takes them two at a time like he has since they were kids.
"Oh my god, Patrick. What happened last night? Why do I feel like this?" He asks, not bothering to remove his hands that are still resting over his eyes. He feels the right side of his comforter untuck from his side and is quickly replaced with the solid warmth of Patrick.
David lets one hand slide from his eyes to find Patrick’s closest shoulder, his fingers scritching lightly as he lets the contact ground him, his uncovered eye opening just enough to squint over at his bedmate.
"I don't know David, I feel pretty good this morning,” he says, and now that David has actually seen him, he knows this to be true. Patrick doesn’t at all look like he spent the previous night in a bar downing massive amounts of dessert flavored liqueur.
"Good? Last night was awful! I feel sick just thinking about it..." he says as he rolls over onto his side so they’re now fully facing each other.
Patrick's face turns bright pink, the tips of his ears scarlet. Why does he look so embarrassed? He isn’t the one that can’t remember how he got home. David resists the urge to tease Patrick’s exposed earlobe with his fingers that still rest on his shoulder.
"What um... what part exactly do you not feel good about?"
David thinks back on what he can remember of the night, all of it still blurry as if the memories are submerged under water… or rather alcohol. "All of it. I keep smelling mint and wanting to vomit, I'm never drinking polar bear shots again! We have to pretend last night never happened Patrick. We can't go off to college with this hanging over our heads or we'll never have any fun,” he finally states, giving Patrick a solemn nod.
"Right… right. You're right,” he responds but Patrick’s face doesn’t look like it wants to forget anything. Maybe David made a bigger fool of himself than he remembers and Patrick’s simply waiting for the right time to troll him about it, but that’s not really how Patrick operates. Normally, he doesn’t save the teasing, he just acts immediately and carries on much longer than any human ever should.
"Patrick, what's wrong? I thought you said you felt pretty good?”
"I think it's the state of you that's throwing me off," he teases, poking under one of David’s eyes.
Equal parts relieved and appalled by Patrick's response, David shoves his shoulder and draws his hand back to his side of the bed, tucking both of them underneath his pillow.
"How dare you! You know I didn't get to do my nightly skin care routine and how sensitive that makes me!”
He sits up finally, his vision only spinning slightly as his brain seems to swim and then settle back into place. “God, I feel terrible.”
“David, it really wasn’t that bad. Some of it was good?” he whispers, flopping over onto his back.
David looks at him from over his shoulder, his t-shirt painfully wrinkled, his hair mused… and a strangely sweet smile on his face.
“Why are you looking at me like that? You’re being weird. Besides, none of it was good. Can we just forget last night ever happened?” he asks before crawling over Patrick’s body to pad towards the adjoining bathroom to take care of the aforementioned skincare routine.
“I… guess so? I just thought…” he hears Patrick whisper.
“Don’t worry Patrick, it’s all behind us.”
*
“So, Sebastian asked me to the dance today,” David says as casually as he can, pulling his knees up to his chest, narrowly avoiding his toes catching the cold ocean water as it rolls in.
David isn’t sappy enough to call this their spot, but it is a spot he and Patrick frequent… and have frequented since they were old enough to take off on their own. Patrick even keeps a beach blanket in the trunk of his car for the days David wears his more expensive jeans, which is most days.
“Oh? What did— what did you say?”
“No of course… we’re both single and we agreed if we were unattached we’d go together.”
Patrick leans back, his hands sinking into the soft sugary sand of the beach, his legs stretching out in front of him. David can see the gears turning in his mind, clearly searching for a reply. He heaves a soft sigh before turning to look at David, still scrunched up in an attempt to avoid the water while Patrick seems to embrace it with his entire being.
“Sebastian’s kind of a dick anyway David but he’d probably at least be fun? But, you can do much better,” he finally says.
“What, you mean someone nice and wholesome like Rachel?” he teases, but watches as it doesn’t land quite the way he’d expected as Patrick’s face falls.
“She is nice… I think she wants me to ask her to the dance.”
Fuck. Patrick wants to take Rachel to the dance, but he doesn’t want to leave David stranded without a date. That must be why, even though David knows Patrick deeply dislikes Sebastian…
“Well, you can… if you want to, Patrick. It’s why we said ‘if we're both single’ just in case… it sounds like we could both have dates? It doesn’t mean we can’t still show everyone up on the dance floor at least once,” David says, ramming his shoulder into Patrick’s.
He doesn’t particularly want to go to the dance with anyone other than Patrick but he’s got to let him go at some point… right? He can’t keep him all to himself forever, no matter how tempting that sounds. Patrick isn’t his in any other way than being his best friend and he won’t ever be.
“Is that what you want David? Do you want to go to the dance with Sebastian?”
“I mean, I think you and Rachel will make for very lovely prom portraits that you’ll one day show the grandkids… and Sebastian will be a hell of a good time for me so, I guess it’s a good idea.”
“David, Rachel and I aren’t even dating!” he says, flicking sand at David’s hair which results in a very shrill scream and David flailing so much he nearly topples off the safety of the blanket.
“Dammit Brewer, you know how I feel about sand that’s not in its correct place!” He says as he stands, brushing off any grain of sand he can find and shaking his hair in Patrick’s direction.
Patrick’s laugh is mostly lost in the sound of the ocean but it warms David all the same, the sight of him with his head thrown back and the wind catching his curly locks. David’s certain that if he were to run his fingers through Patrick’s hair he’d find far too much sand for his liking. He’s already nearly hyperventilating at the wet sand stuck to Patrick’s bare feet.
*
“I uh… I need help with my tie,” Patrick says as he stands in the doorway to David’s room.
They’ve not talked in several weeks. David hadn’t exactly taken it well when Patrick told him about the sex he’d had with Rachel.
In fact, he’d gotten himself detention.
Patrick had casually mentioned it to him in the hallway on the way to French class.
He’d frozen as he let the words run straight to his stupid heart.
Of course he’d had sex with Rachel. They were seniors, it's what high school kids did... have sex with the people they were dating. He should have expected it, seen it coming. Patrick didn't even seem particularly thrilled about it, the statement coming out clipped and rushed… as if he just needed to talk about it.
But David couldn't talk about it.
And then he’d said fuck so loud that his French teacher walked out of her classroom and sent him directly to the principal’s office.
And, he hadn’t spoken to Patrick since.
Now Patrick is standing in his doorway in a tux holding a damn bowtie like he’s out of some goddamn romantic comedy, but he’s not here to sweep David off his feet.
David simply rolls his eyes but nods his head, accepting Patrick’s presence.
He takes his time lacing his shoes and putting his cuff links in place before he finally turns to take in the mess that is Patrick’s bowtie.
He slips the silk of the tie under the collar of Patrick’s dress shirt, his fingers deftly tying the fabric together in a perfect bow.
“I’m not… mad,” he finally says softly, his hands smoothing the shoulders of Patrick’s suit before stepping back to fiddle with his already impeccable hair in the floor length mirror.
“Oh good, for a minute there I thought maybe you were in love with me or something,” Patrick teases, flopping down at the foot of his bed, no regard for his ironed pants.
As if David could be in love with someone that willingly lets his clothes get wrinkled before the event even begins.
“Please Brewer, you’ll forever be the boy that wiped boogers on my Balenciaga,” he says with a scoff.
David watches Patrick’s reflection in his mirror, he’s not looking at David, merely his cuticles… which could make sense, he should take better care of his nails but that’s not Patrick. He doesn’t care about that stuff.
He does that when he’s deep in thought.
“God Patrick, I didn’t think you’d take it personally.”
“I didn’t David, I just… can we be cool again?”
“I mean, I guess so… so long as you still save me a dance. Now, how do I look?” He says and turns to face Patrick.
Patrick looks as if he’s seeing David for the first time, his eyes following the lines of his body from his shoes to the top of his locks. “Y— you look beautiful David. I mean, Sebastian’s a lucky guy.”
Beautiful.
*
Prom is held in the hotel closest to their high school, Sebastian informs him within the first 30 seconds of their arrival that he’s gotten them a room.
His suit jacket is outrageous with gold woven in an ostentatious pattern, David hates it almost as much as he hates the expectation that he’ll be putting out tonight.
Patrick’s off with Rachel but the thought of the dance saved for him at the end of the night keeps his spirits high, and while Sebastian is a grade A asshole he seems to like David, so that’s at least something.
He dances with Sebastian, their bodies gliding together effortlessly. His hands feel good on David's body, the attraction he feels to Sebastain sparks as the other boy tucks his face into David's neck.
He catches Patrick's gaze across the dance floor and he can tell he’s masking annoyance as soon as he notices David's caught him.
He quirks an eyebrow at Patrick but the other man is quickly distracted by the very excited redhead in his arms.
David gets his chance to dance with Patrick when he finds him sitting haplessly at a table watching Rachel in the distance dancing with her girlfriends, their spaghetti strap dresses falling precariously down their shoulders.
“You ready to show them what dancing really looks like?” he asks, his hand extending.
Patrick’s face splits into a grin as his eyes meet David’s. He takes his hand and they make their way out onto the floor just as the song changes to a slower number.
Patrick doesn’t let it stop him, he simply pulls David into his arms, though at a respectable distance… and they dance.
“You know, for a second rate high school, the decorations aren’t that bad," Patrick says after a beat, his hands settling around David's waist.
“Yes well I heard they got a strongly worded letter with a very large check enclosed," his arms relax immediately, his hands clasping behind Patrick's neck.
“Ah, well yes… that-that does sound like it probably helped a bit. I think it's nice you wanted this to be special."
David looks down and meets Patrick's gaze, smiling softly. “Yeah well…” he starts with a small shrug.
Yeah well he’d done that back when they were going to the dance together. He’d done it for them.
"Are you sure Sebastian–"
He closes his eyes and shakes his head, effectively cutting Patrick off. He leans his head down to rest against the open space on Patrick's shoulder, the stoop probably unflattering but he doesn't care.
He's attracted to Sebastian but he knows he doesn't love him… can't see a future with him. Not the way he always has with… but it doesn't matter. It never has.
He's going to soak this moment up because he's got to let Patrick go. This has to be the last moment he spends hoping that something more will come out of this friendship.
They're going off to college soon, he can't carry this baggage with him there.
Patrick makes a soft sound in the back of his throat and David feels his fingers grip the back of his jacket, which while incorrect… he allows.
Rachel cuts in moments later and David's whisked away to the elevator, Sebastian tucking David's arm into the crook of his like the gentleman he isn't.
He greatly enjoys ripping off Sebastian's hideous suit jacket, losing himself under Sebastian's demanding hands.
It's over quickly, Sebastian in the end leaving David far from satiated.
Sebastian leaves him immediately for the shower, the bed as empty as his chest feels.
A shrill ring finally sets him in motion. It's clear Sebastian's not interested in actually spending the night with David… which fine, that's fine.
The thread count on David's sheets are better than whatever the hell this hotel has.
He just really wishes he'd come with Patrick.
He pulls his pants back on and swipes up to answer the incoming call from his mother.
"Um, you know it's prom night right?"
"We need you to come home David. It's of the most importance."
"Okay… I'll, I'll be there soon."
*
His parents are frantically moving around the house, throwing things in boxes and cramming suitcases in a way that's frankly… incorrect.
“What the fuck?” he asks Alexis as she fiddles nervously with the charm that dangles from her cellphone.
"I don't know David, they wouldn't tell me anything without you being here but they've… they've been doing this for awhile."
Once his father takes in his presence he sits them down and explains that they've lost their money, that they'll have to move to some godforsaken town in Ontario called Schitt's Creek but they'll have to wait until David graduates and they pack the essentials.
Which doesn't explain why his mother is frantically packing her most valued possessions but definitely explains the screeching coming from her mouth.
"What about college?" David finally squeaks.
His father has the decency to look remorseful as he tells David he's so sorry but the money they set aside for him will be gone too.
Happy Fucking Prom David Rose.
It feels like he's in the middle of a fever dream when his mother crawling into bed with him that night wakes him from his already fitful sleep.
He throws his comforter over her body and helps her get settled. He finds the smell of her Chanel No. 5 comforts him, her fingers playing with his hair make his eyes droop.
"You mustn't give up David, you've got such a bright future but your family needs you now. We won't make it in that terrible place without you," she mumbles, clearly under the influence of something other than wine.
But he knows she's right, he's always been the caregiver… the glue that holds his family together.
"Okay, I-I'll help," he says softly, their eyes meeting even in the dark of his room.
"You're a good boy David," she mumbles before soft snores fall from her still painted lips.
*
David wants to call Patrick, he needs to call Patrick. He just… needs Patrick.
His life is falling apart and the one person that’s been a pillar of stability throughout nearly the entirety of his life and now… now he sits on the edge of his bed, his room destroyed beyond repair.
He takes a deep breath and lifts the phone that’s been sitting in the palm of his hand for the last thirty minutes.
“Hey uh… David? Can I um, call you back?” Patrick says by way of answering and David can hear rustling in the background and a small and very femine giggle.
“It’s kind of…” but he doesn’t say it's important, he simply finishes with “Yeah, no… that’s um, that’s fine. Tell Rachel I said hi.”
He takes a deep breath, pulls his shoulders back and lifts his chin. He can do this. He can go with his family to some town in Canada he’s never heard of and help them get through this. It’s not like he’s got the money to actually go to college now anyway… or any money at all.
He doesn’t even fully understand how this happened. Eli was family, he’d been at his bar mitzvah. He’d helped his father pick out that disastrous basketball court.
They were kind enough to give him enough time to graduate… and luckily it seems like just long enough to see Patrick off at the airport before they themselves depart.
*
Rachel thankfully isn’t with them when David goes with Patrick to the airport… Patrick’s parents say goodbye at the car, but David follows him in, as far as he can go without a ticket.
He should tell him, tell him he won’t see him… doesn’t even know the next time he will see him.
Will Patrick come home for Christmas expecting to find the Rose family in their large mansion just outside of town? Will he show up on their doorstep only to find another family living under their roof?
He should tell him.
But he won't. He doesn't want Patrick to pity him, to try to take care of him.
Instead he pulls Patrick in for a hug. A hug that lasts too long… that feels too intimate for two best friends that will supposedly be seeing each other in two weeks time.
He tries to pull back but Patrick’s fingers dig into his shoulders keeping him close. David can’t help but press his forehead to Patrick’s, his nose pressing against Patrick’s every other breath.
“Don’t get blown up,” he whispers, his words filling the pocket of intimacy between them.
Patrick just shakes his head, David’s moving with his as their foreheads stay pressed together.
“Or lose cabin pressure and fall out of the sky.”
“Okay.”
“Or fly into a flock of birds.”
“Okay David, I won’t,” he says, his fingers moving to tracing along the stubble of his jaw, his mouth moving in so close David thinks for a second Patrick may kiss him.
His breath hitches, his head moving back just a bit… then back in again as if to say he’s willing if Patrick is.
Even if this is the last time they’ll see each other. He’d give anything just to know he means as much to Patrick as he means to David.
His chest swells with anticipation as Patrick moves back in again, his warm breath ghosting across David’s face. Patrick’s eyes look incredibly soft and fond when David meets them.
David’s hands wrap around the back of Patrick’s neck, ready to take the plunge but Patrick’s eyes have dropped to David’s chin and his eyes are no longer fond… just sad.
“I’ll see you… in two weeks David.”
“Yeah, yeah I’ve just got… some things to sort out first."
If he chokes back tears as he watches Patrick disappear ahead of him, as he sits in the back of the Brewer's sedan, Marcy's eyes looking far too much like her sons in the rearview mirror… well that's his own business.
*
Somehow, Schitt's Creek is far worse than he could have ever imagined. It's dirt roads leading into town, a pornographic sign to welcome them to this hellscape, and an actual demon working the front counter of the motel they apparently live in now.
He goes in to ask for a towel for the third time, the sour faced girl sitting behind the front desk with an unlit cigarette perched between her fingers as her eyes are trained on the computer screen.
“Um, are you supposed to be smoking in here?”
“My family owns this motel… I make the rules. Besides, it's not even lit,” she says flicking it in his direction as if it is.
“Well, it sure explains the smell of the sheets," he says as he leans a hip against the counter and peering over to see a solitaire game pulling up on the screen.
“No, that’s just how they smell.”
“ Okay. Well, I was hoping to get that towel? I really need to wash the town off my body.”
This town, the last several days, weeks... the still lasting memory of when he'd let Sebastian touch him all those months ago.
“Do you want to go out back for a smoke?”
He eyes her warily, not wholly unconvinced she may decide to murder him.
“I don’t smoke cigarettes…”
“But you’d smoke something else.”
“Um, yes?”
She grins a toothy grin that looks more like a grimace before pulling an old sewing ton out from under the counter.
She apparently does make the rules.
“You are turning out to be a lot more interesting than you look… and you look pretty fucking interesting,” she says before leaving him out to the back of the motel.
*
It doesn’t take long for David to tell Stevie about Patrick. The first time they get drunk it comes tumbling out, spills out onto the shaggy carpet of her apartment where they sit with their backs against her bed, a bottle or red wine passing between them.
This is now officially the longest he's gone without speaking to Patrick. Longer than the time he'd told him he'd had sex with Rachel. It's been four months without a word. He’d explained that his family needed him, that he was going to wait until the next semester or maybe even the next year. And they do need him. His mother isn’t adjusting well at all to a simpler life and his father is acting like everything is completely normal while Alexis is trying to take over the High School’s social scene.
It’s a nightmare.
Patrick eventually sends him an email and tells him about how he’d broken up with Rachel, his plans to come home and see him as soon as possible. Christmas at the latest.
He's not sure how to respond. He doesn't want Patrick to know, to see what's become of him and his family but he won't be home long before he figures it out.
He tells Stevie he never wants Patrick to see him like this… so far from the David he’d grown up with.
He doesn’t feel like the same David. He’d never been carefree a day in his life, he’s too tightly wound for that… but he’d been hopeful.
He’d wanted to make a name for himself, to work hard and earn his own living outside of his parents wealth.
Now, it seems like his only option as there's no wealth left, but it's not going to be as easy. Someday it feels impossible.
Frankly he's just fucking lonely and sad and he misses his best friend.
*
It's not long until Stevie becomes his best friend though. She's his constant companion.
He hangs around the front desk so often he picks up enough to cover for her when she needs a break or runs an errand.
Eventually she suckers him into cleaning rooms and doing laundry and she even starts paying him for his time.
It's not what he expected to be doing with his life but it’s not… it’s not the worst.
*
Apparently Patrick wasn't kidding when he said he'd see him soon because Patrick shows up in Schitt’s creek a week before Christmas unannounced.
David’s minding his own business, reading his latest book at the front desk of the Motel when he walks in and tries to get a room.
“How the hell are you here Patrick?”
It’s all David can think to say. He hasn’t told him, no one in his family has been in contact with any of the Brewers, he made sure of that.
Yet here he stands, duffel in hand… ready to spend his first Christmas break from college here in Schitt’s Creek, or at least part of his break.
“You think the Rose Family could leave town suddenly… in the dead of night and people wouldn’t talk?” Patrick asks, dropping his duffel to the floor and moving to lean against the front counter.
“It wasn’t the dead of night, we just waited until it got dark outside,” he whispers.
“Rachel called, and then my parents... I just thought you’d eventually say something? Tell me?”
David squeezes his eyes closed at the look of hurt on Patrick’s face. “I just didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t want you to feel…”
Patrick leans over the counter and takes David’s hand in his and gives it a squeeze. “It’s okay David, I understand. I’m here now, so wanna show me around?”
“You literally saw all this town has to offer on your ride in.”
Patrick laughs and shakes his head, “Then can I at least get a room?”
*
“I think… not telling you was a way to keep the dream alive you know? So there was someone out there that still saw me as David Rose, with the high end fashion and nice shoes and not this… person I’ve become.”
“You were never your money David.”
“Not to you.”
Patrick’s jaw clenches and he simply lays his hand on his thigh palm up, waiting for David.
David blinks quickly to keep his tears a bay, at Patrick’s instinctual knowledge of exactly what it is he always needs. He laces their fingers together and leans into his warmth, his head nestling into his shoulder.
Patrick stays for three days until he absolutely has to leave in order to make it home so he doesn’t miss any of the sacred Brewer family traditions.
This goodbye isn’t as electric as their last and weirdly isn’t as heart breaking. David knows where he is in life and it’s far from being something that Patrick would ever want.
*
Stevie doesn’t bring up Patrick’s visit and they continue to brainstorm ideas on how to improve business at the motel, eventually bringing his Dad on, in an advisory position.
David speaks with local artisans that supply locally made products for their customers to use and the upgrades work so well that even his father is pleased and impressed.
The Rose family settles into life in Schitt’s Creek far more quickly than anyone would have ever guessed. Alexis eventually finishes High School and moves on to Elm Dale College.
David moves into a two bedroom apartment with Stevie and the Roses eventually move into a small house in town.
At some point they accepted this little town as their own and the town accepted them. It would be sweet if you ignored how they ended up here in the first place… could maybe even be sweet if you didn’t.
David and Patrick continue to send emails back and forth and even text and video chat once David saves up enough money to upgrade his phone.
It’s infrequent enough that the first David hears about Rachel ending up in New York, she and Patrick have already been dating for a few months. The only reason David knows is because she answers his phone when he tries to FaceTime Patrick about the fact his mother has decided to run for Town Council. Which, is the most ridiculous thing David’s ever heard in his life… his mother in local politics.
David finds out Rachel moves into Patrick’s apartment because she posts about it on her Facebook page and tags Patrick.
He doesn’t date, not really. This town is so small he’d slept with everyone that’s single two years into living there and three years later it’s no different.
He’s content with Stevie’s companionship, they work well together… they don’t need anyone else.
At least that’s what he tells himself, and Patrick when he asks about David’s love life.
Patrick seems to be so fed up with the same answers from David that he begins to insist that David come visit, so much so that David becomes unable to turn it down.
He misses Patrick so much and the chance to see him again makes him he feel like the same 18 year old David that was hopelessly in love with his best friend but he also feels like the same 8 year old boy that just desperately needs to take shelter in the comfort and safety that any member of the Brewer family exuded.
Plus, he’s in no position to turn down a trip to New York City.
Stevie takes him to the airport, the ticket Patrick sent him burning a whole in his pocket. Patrick's finishing up a master's degree while also working at some fancy company on Wall Street and David's still not able to put back enough money for an international flight.
Stevie remains silent next to him for the majority of the trip, only speaking at the last possible second as she watches David struggle to remove his luggage from the trunk of her car.
"He has a girlfriend," she says and David feels his heart clench painfully in his chest.
"It's funny, her name hasn't come up at all, not once since we've been talking so…" he defends.
"And you should know better than anyone that that doesn't matter David!"
"It does when it's Patrick. He wouldn't. "
"David, he already has," she says softly. She's not talking about lying, hiding a significant other. He knows she's talking about breaking his heart.
"Yeah well, something triggered this urgent need to see me."
This feels like it did before and it shouldn't make David hope because nothing changed between them their whole life but the nearness of Patrick now, the flirting… the ease with which they fell back into each other's orbit, it floods his entire being with hope. He burns with it.
He tries to swallow it, to lock it back up but Patrick's soft touches and the way he keeps looking at David… he can't snuff it out.
Patrick's always touched him in a way no one else has. Without reservations or boundaries, without worrying someone will think they're something they're not, have never been.
It's infuriating.
It's charming.
Stevie shoves a handful of condoms at him right before she punches his shoulder as a goodbye.
*
Patrick picks him up from the airport and David wonders briefly if this is all their lives will windup being now… moments stolen in airports.
David’s bag is shoved between them in the back of a Taxi, Patrick’s grinning face peaking at him from the other side.
“Are you tired? Hungry?” He asks so innocently David immediately knows he’s got something planned.
“No… why?”
Patrick doesn’t answer, he just gives the cab driver an address and they’re off.
David had no earthly idea business majors or whatever the hell it is that Patrick does could party so hard.
They wound up at some sprawling home in a section of New York he hasn’t even ever seen and there’s people covering nearly every inch of the home.
Patrick shoves David’s bag in a hallway closet and apparently living in Schitt’s Creek has mellowed David out to a level he hasn’t been aware of until now.
“Are you trying to recreate our high school years?” David yells over the crowd, following behind Patrick as he makes his way to what David hopes is a bar.
“You wish!” Patrick tosses over his shoulder, a sly smile playing on his lips.
This Patrick is carefree and a little bit more wild, reckless even, than the one he’d said goodbye to all those years ago.
They drink, the dance and David takes it all in. Patrick’s hands on him, dancing closely… the way he’s smiling at David. It feels familiar… like they're on the brink of taking the next step like they have been so many times before except David feels so certain now’s the time they actually do.
Patrick drinks far more than David can recall him ever drinking, though he’s sure if he could remember his eighteenth birthday he’d have at least one other instance.
Someone spills their drink down the front of David’s sweater and he simply strips it off, leaving him in his white undershirt that’s just damp enough that it clings to his sweat soaked skin.
Patrick can’t take his eyes off David, his mouth hanging open in blatant admiration.
“David, you’re looking far too hot right now… Let’s get you out of here before someone convinces you to leave with them.”
They stumble out into the night, Patrick carrying David's bag and his damp sweater while David wanders through the streets of New York by his side.
He looks so desperately happy. His hair is longer, the curls more prominent than they were the last time he saw him. New York suits Patrick in a way David finds surprising. They weren’t necessarily from a small town but it wasn’t like New York… nothing was like New York.
And here Patrick is, leading him God knows where at 2 AM on a Thursday as if this is something he doesn all the time.
David moves closer and links his arm through Patrick’s, who just smiles wider.
“I’m so glad you came David, I’ve missed you so much. I feel like I haven’t stopped missing you since…”
“Since you left for college? Me too,” he says softly, moving his hip to bump sloppily into Patrick’s.
Once they reach Patrick’s apartment and Patrick ushers them inside, shushing both of their inebriated giggles it’s very clear to David he’s made a mistake.
He feels his stomach drop at the clearly very feminine touches to the space, the pair of nude heels by the front door… and then the clearly perturbed redhead moving toward them from a room down the hall.
“David, I see you made it here in one piece. I was a bit worried considering the fact Patrick left here hours ago to fetch you.”
“R— Rachel! It’s lovely to see you!” he stammers out as Patrick tries to take off his jacket while David’s bag is still strapped to his back.
“Sorry babe, we went to Trevor’s! I felt like David could use a drink after the flight.”
“And I don’t suppose you could have texted?” she asks, taking David’s bag from around his shoulders and dropping it to the floor so she can help Patrick with his jacket.
Patrick shrugs out of it and then shrugs again in her direction. “I didn’t think we’d be long! But, we’re here now aren’t we?”
Rachel takes a deep breath and turns to David. “You’ll be sleeping on the couch, I hope that’s fine. It pulls out if you want. I’ve already laid out the bedding for you. Goodnight.” she says before stepping over David’s bag and disappearing into the room she’d come out of.
Patrick stands in there and watches her leave, the carefree happy Patrick from early almost feels like a figment of David’s imagination… along with the hope he’d had of finally getting a shot with Patrick.
Rachel continues to dash David’s hopes the next morning over breakfast.
His body is already wrecked from sleeping on a pullout couch and the massive amount of alcohol from the night before, his brain so foggy he’s sure he misshears her.
Patrick would’ve told him, surely he would’ve said something but his ashen face tells him he heard Rachel correctly.
He chokes down his mouthful of pancakes and tries his best to offer Rachel a kind smile but he can tell by how scrunched his eyes and nose are it probably doesn’t come off right.
“Congratulations, I-I… Patrick didn’t, he didn’t tell me.”
He can feel the panic making its way from his stomach up to his chest where it settles, tightens… presses painfully on his heart.
How many times is he going to do this to himself? It’s no one’s fault but his.
He excuses himself after breakfast and returns the living room back to normal, folding the sheets and packing his bag. He can hear Patrick and Rachel in the other room, trying to keep their fighting to whispers but the dishes hitting the sink loudly isn’t even enough to cover up the harsh words being passed back and forth.
He tries to slip out unnoticed and is a block away when he hears Patrick running after him.
“David! David where are you going?” He calls, the words tumbling out as he races to catch up.
“I’m going home Patrick… I can’t do this. This is too crazy for me, I walked straight into the middle of something here.”
He turns around, allowing Patrick time to catch up. He looks insane, one leg of his pajama bottoms crammed into a boot while the other is scrunched up around his knee. His hair is a mess and his face is still red from the tense fight he just had with Rachel.
“No really, it’s fine David… I’m sorry. Rachel and I just needed to air some stuff that’s all. We’re fine!” He says, the defensiveness of the statement making it evident they’re anything but fine. Patrick seems to fight to even get those words out.
David feels anger overtake the panic in his chest. He’s so mad he’d allowed Patrick to bring him out here only to drop this bombshell, he’s pissed he allowed himself to hope for something that’s apparently so fucking far from happening the universe has spent the better part of a decade laughing at him. And he’s pissed there won’t be anymore opportunities for him to hope because Patrick’s going to be a father, he’s going to marry Rachel and be forever unattainable and it stings so much more than it should.
“Oh you’re fine? That’s good because I’m not fine! We were out together the whole night and that entire time your girlfriend was at home expecting a baby? And you couldn’t even tell me? And you brought me here for what Patrick? For a good time? So I could see how perfect your life is? Well, I’ve got news for you… you’re life is a fucking mess. You’re a mess Patrick!”
“I brought you here because I wanted to see you! You’re my best friend David. A—and my life is a whole hell of a lot less messy than yours! Are you still living with Stevie in that dump of an apartment? In that joke of a town? My life isn’t a mess.”
“The fact you’re trying to poke fun at a place you once called charming… at my life that’s basically always been a joke is you just covering up the fact I’ve hit a nerve. Maybe you needed someone to come here and tell you how absolutely miserable you are here, with her. Last night I thought…”
Patrick just stares at David, his mouth open in disbelief but his eyes soften and David can’t stand it.
David just shakes his head and hails a cab. “It doesn’t matter what I thought. I’m done Patrick. I’m tired of this… This isn’t the Patrick I know. Please, let me know if you find him.” He says not bothering to look back at the other man before climbing into the cab.
*
It’s three weeks later when Sebastian Raine shows up in Schitt’s Creek.
He says he’s here because Moira called and asked him to photograph her for a part she’s been trying to get in an upcoming movie.
David’s kept up with Sebastian since they left school, knows he’s become a bit of a big deal in the art scene. It’s been a sore subject for him, knowing that the guy that hadn’t even bothered to drive David home after prom was living the life he himself thought he’d be living.
But he lets Sebastian pull him into his hotel room, he lets him love him, touch him, fuck him. Sebastian makes him feel good in a way he hasn’t in years. He feels wanted and sexy and Sebastian calls him and texts him and keeps coming back to visit until one day he moves his things in and doesn’t move them back out.
He’s still gone all the time but he calls David’s apartment home, he calls David home.
Stevie’s not a fan of Sebastian but she only mentions it once. She moves out quickly after Sebastian moves in, preferring to stay alone than with the two of them.
It feels good, being with Sebastian. Sebastian loves him in a way no one in his life ever has. He’s not given himself very many chances to love someone other than Patrick Brewer but— but Sebastian is, he just makes David feel better.
Sebastian proposes a year after they started seeing each other and David says yes without hesitation.
They marry two months later. It’s a small affair and not at all how David pictured his wedding going but… it’s nice. He’s happy.
He’s taken aback when his mother tells him she’ll escape out the back door with him if he has even any ounce of doubt.
His parents have stayed out of his relationship with Sebastian, which maybe he should have taken as a red flag.
He simply kisses her cheek instead of answering.
Patrick’s absence is noticeable as Clint and Marcy sit four rows back but David hadn’t expected him to come, not really… they’ve not talked. He knows Rachel had the baby, he’s seen pictures on social media. He knows Patrick’s finished school and is quickly moving up at work but he knows none of this from Patrick.
So, he marries Sebastian and is determined to move on with his life.
The motel is going so great and Sebastian’s business really picks up after the wedding and everything seems fine, until it isn’t.
Sebastian’s never really home, he’s always away on business with clients flying him all over the world for different photoshoots or articles.
David feels like he’s more of an inconvenience for Sebastian to come home than it is for him to leave. He wishes Stevie hadn’t moved out once they got married, but he knows Stevie doesn’t care much for Sebastian… she made it clear from the start and she’d gotten drunk enough at his wedding to let that slip in her maid of honor speech.
But he can manage, he can try harder… wait for things to feel happy and sweet like they had before he’d married Sebastian
He’s thinking about his mother’s offer at his wedding, Stevie’s wariness, his father’s silence… Alexis’s snarky remarks and wonders if everyone else knew something he didn’t.
He’s pondering this when he gets a call from his father.
It’s then, a random day in March of 2018, a few years after he'd last spoken to Patrick, that he finds out his mother has died.
David loses feeling in his legs as he drops onto the couch listening to his Dad’s voice. They’d been on vacation for a few weeks. He drove them to the airport and she’d been fine, he’d just seen them, seen her.
David’s not certain his mom hadn’t just fled out of sheer desperation to not have to come back to Schitt’s Creek… he knows, deep down that’s not the case though because even she would’ve at least taken Dad along with her.
They’d saved, for years and years… since they lost everything really, to be able to take this trip. Though, the money hadn’t started out with that purpose. Somewhere along the way, they’d settled, accepted their life in Schitt’s Creek with him, Alexis, and even Stevie… and the rest of the townsfolk. It was then that the savings became a vacation fund. They’d been determined to make it to all their favorite places, one last time.
They’d planned to end in France, at his mother’s favorite vineyard… Herb Something he remembers her saying for years.
Now, staring at the stark paper with her pristine and somehow still messy writing etched across it, he can’t bring himself to remember the owner’s name.
His dad had given him the sealed envelope not long after getting off his return flight. He doesn’t say anything, just pats David’s shoulder in a way that’s probably more of a comfort to Johnny than it is to him.
His mother was clearly at least half intoxicated when she wrote this, which would honestly explain why she wrote the letter in the first place… It was oddly a very sentimental move for her.
She uses words like “my dear David” and “that dreaded Sebastian” and “sweet little button” and it’s too much... for his mother to see into his soul well beyond her grave.
She tells him how Patrick is his designated grape… which admittedly translates very poorly over print and makes him wonder if it would’ve made more sense in person. She tells him that joy and happiness have always been just within his reach if only he’d take the chance and take it for once… believe he deserves it.
She tells him how proud she is of the work he and Stevie have done on the motel, that she believes, with or without Patrick or Sebastian that he’s found something so special in Stevie… and in their business together.
She tells him, which makes him certain Dad hadn’t read this letter before she sealed it, that they’d set aside a chunk of their savings for him and Alexis… and some for Stevie too. That it was enough money to get them out of Schitt’s Creek but her and Dad wanted to do something selfless, for their kids.
He has to bury her today, say his final goodbye to his mother and he’d chosen to read this letter first why? Because he’s a glutton for punishment… which is very clear by every decision he’s ever made.
He just, he didn’t think he’d be here quite yet… saying goodbye.
His mother would love the aesthetic of her own funeral if only because all those in attendance are wearing her signature color scheme and all have nothing but the nicest things to say about her.
His father hasn’t spoken since they arrived, his father in one piece and his mother in a coffin. He wants to laugh at the absurdity of it all, his mother being lowered down into the ground in front of him, his sister’s hand in his. Sebastian’s somewhere probably drinking out of whatever he’d poured into a flask on his way out of the door.
The rest of the crowd that consists mostly of the family they’ve made here in Schitt’s Creek and a handful from their life before fade away, probably going to the motel for the reception. He sees Sebastian off in the distance on his phone.
“David,” a soft voice says behind him.
David’s shoulders sag with the relief that voice brings with it.
“Patrick,” he says back, looking at the other man over his shoulder, his head jerking forward in an attempt to bring Patrick closer.
“When I heard… the years fell away, I was… just this kid that somehow ended up in your house, spending time with this boy and his outrageous parents. I loved her too ya know? She wasn’t, she wasn’t always around but the times she was, they’re so memorable.”
David was certain he didn’t have any more tears left… he hasn’t had any for days. Yet, they’re falling at the sight of Patrick standing before him having traveled too fucking far to say goodbye to someone that he—
“Do you want to wipe boogers on my sweater? For old times sake?”
And then he’s laughing through his tears and god he’s missed Patrick so fucking much.
He can’t help but think of the way his mother had written about this very man. He thinks Patrick would be flattered she’d remembered him… and in the blink of an eye he’s crying again and Patrick’s pulling him in.
“Hey, shhh…” he whispers into David’s neck.
David pulls back just enough to meet Patrick’s gaze but not enough to leave the warmth of his embrace. “Where’s Rachel?”
“Oh, that—that. I ended things, we split custody. I've been wanting to tell you David. I wanted to tell you that I'm—" he starts, his face flushing
“Hey! Hands off my man Brewer!” Sebastian says, approaching quickly and seemingly out of nowhere. He pulls David out of the comfort of Patrick’s arms and throws his arm around his shoulder as he skews his obnoxious sunglasses in the process.
“Sorry, I was just speaking with some—Roland… needed an escape,” he says, practically hanging off David now as he’s clearly too intoxicated to hold himself up.
David chokes back his tears and straights up.
“Are you seriously… drunk right now?” Patrick asks, his jaw ticking with irritation.
Sebastion sloppily removes his sunglasses and uses them to point directly into Patrick’s face. “Funerals are just really hard for me. I find them to be as beautiful as they are daunting and it’s too much to handle from an artist’s perspective.”
“Right, because David’s having a heart time here burying his mother,” he says as his hand slowly moves to push the glasses out of his line of sight as calmly as he can.
“You know what Brewer, fuck you. You’ve always—”
“Please Seb, don’t. ”
“You’re right babe, thanks for turning up Patrick. We both appreciate your support so much,” he says as his arm drops down around David’s waist so he can steer him towards the motel where the reception is set up.
David spares one last glance over his shoulder and finds Patrick gazing down at his mother’s casket, his hands deep in his pockets.
*
David's marriage ends nine months later after Stevie finds a very juvenile mistake on social media. It's too convient of a mistake for it to really be one and Stevie won't admit to following every move he makes on social media but David suspects she has been for a while.
Uncovering a tagged photo leads to more tagged photos and an Instagram account with evidence of the affair going back to just after they'd gotten married.
He should be heartbroken, feel something more than mild sadness and a shit ton of relief… but he can't bring himself to feel anything else.
Stevie helps him pack up all of Sebastian's possessions and the town helps him carry it all out to the dumpster that sits outside the motel.
It's not until he's tackling the stack of papers in Sebastian's makeshift studio that he finds the real betrayal.
It's a letter, an actual handwritten letter from Patrick Brewer that's date stamped not long after his mother's funeral.
Patrick Brewer wrote him a letter and Sebastian had what? Kept it from him. It was clear he'd read it.
He unfolds the worn paper gingerly, only using the very tips of his fingers to pull the page apart.
David,
You deserve someone who loves you with every beat of his heart. Someone who will always be there for you, who’ll love every part of you. Especially the freckle behind your right ear.
I know you married him and I’m so sorry if this is out of line or I’m entirely wrong and if I am I promise I’ll never bring it up again.
Sebastian’s not the man for you David. He wasn’t in high school and he sure as hell isn’t now. Twice I’ve let you slip through my fingers. Let’s stop being afraid and take the chance. I know now I can make you happy. Call me if you feel the same way.
Love, Patrick.
David stares down at the letter in his hands in awe. Why didn’t…He’s got to call him, call Patrick.
He’s got to tell him he’s always wanted—
He rushes through the house until he finds his phone, immediately pressing the FaceTime button.
God he hopes he's not too late.
He'll explain it, tell Patrick what Sebastian did. Tell him that Sebastian's left but that even if he wasn't, had he seen this letter when it arrived things would be different now.
But it's not Patrick that answers. It's a man with a smile as bright as the actual fucking sun and he's calling out for Patrick in a way that's too familiar he feels his heart drop
*
He’s never seen Stevie look at him like this before… well maybe he has the other eighteen times she's seen him get his heartbroken but there's a fierceness to her sympathy.
She's sitting at the head of his bed, relaxing against his pillows and staring him down.
He read her the letter and then gave it to her so she could read it again.
“I really like being your friend because literally anytime something goes wrong in my life, I just look at yours and am instantly cured of any self pity.”
David just rolls his eyes and passes her the bottle of wine.
The house is still in shambles from the way they'd gotten rid of every ounce of Sebastian but Stevie's moved back in and they're making it their home again.
“Look, Patrick has always been yours! This,” she says, waiving that pathetic little paper around in front of his face, “is proof of ownership. All those times you thought you felt something, you did. He says it, right here… he’s let you slip through his fingers twice. ”
“Thrice. And he wrote that letter months ago. And anyway, he’s my best friend… I can’t-”
“I’m so fucking tired of you saying that David. He’s not your best friend, I am. Don’t you get it?”
“We just keep… missing each other. Clearly, we’re just not meant to be.”
“Okay, let me try to dumb this down for you. Ugh shit, I don’t actually know any romantic comedies to compare this to, to get it through your thick skull. He loves you. Actually loves you… has loved you for what seems like, nearly your entire life. Who do you think he’s going to end up with?” Stevie says slamming the letter down on the bed next to David.
"He asked me to be the best man in his wedding, Stevie. The wedding he's going to have seven months from now!" He shrieks.
"Yeah? What are you gonna do about it?"
*
Someone named Twyla picks them up from the airport, seemingly a distant relative and part of the wedding party herself.
Stevie falls all over herself after one look at Twyla and they're lost in each other all the way to the church while David slowly loses his mind as he changes into his tux in the back seat.
David’s never hated losing his fortune as much as he does when he has to put his best man suit on in the back of Twyla's Uncle’s van after being picked up from a flight that had been delayed 5 hours.
The wedding is beautiful, standing next to Patrick at the altar feels like a fate worse than death.
But he silently watches as his best friend marries a man that's not him.
He really wants to die the second someone clicks their knife against their glass signaling the start of the speeches.
Take a deep breath, and start at the beginning. Tell them how we first met. Tell them that this — that this has to be one of the happiest days of my life.
“Hi everybody... “ he says standing, smoothing down the jacket of his tux as he pulls the few, now crumpled, index cards from his inside pocket, shuffling them unnecessarily. He feels like he’s been rehearsing for this day his entire life, even though there’s always been a part of him that’s hoped…
“I’m David Rose, for those that don’t know. I’m Patrick’s best man and um, best friend? Which you may not have guessed due to the fact I nearly missed the ceremony. Um, anyway… this, this is one of the happiest days of my life.”
He says, his eyes scanning the crowd until they find Patrick’s. He does his best not to think about the fact mere hours ago he’d spent the entire van ride from the airport to the church in Twyla’s Uncle’s van sobbing at the thought of what he had to do today.
Taking another deep breath, he starts at the beginning.
He goes on for far too long about themed birthday parties and sleepovers. The times they had to convince the school to put them in all the same classes until they didn’t have to beg anymore.
None of it is particularly relevant to Patrick getting married, it feels almost as if he’s giving his resume to those that may think he doesn’t deserve to be up here… to Ken who’s looking at him with pure unadulterated disdain.
He clears his throat, skipping to the last index card in his stack… the memory he made Patrick swear to forget, the one he really doesn’t even remember.
“Final word of warning… for those of you that don’t know, Patrick seems like a nice homespun boy, but he can drink an entire baseball team under the table… as I discovered on my eighteenth birthday when he decided a night of polar bear shots was the way to ring in momentous milestone. Well, you know when people say they were so drunk the whole night was a blur? And you think to yourself, there’s no way that's possible… well believe me, it’s possible… I haven’t blacked out like that since.”
He closes his eyes as the wedding guests laugh awkwardly, trying desperately to recall a single moment of that night but he can’t. It was so long ago. God, they’ve both been through so much. He just wishes they could have gone through it together.
When he opens his eyes again Patrick’s not meeting his gaze, he’s staring wide eyed at his champagne flute as if David just told him Santa wasn’t real.
He scrambles, folding the index cards closed in his hands.
“Choosing the person that you want to spend the rest of your life with is… one of the most important decisions any of us makes. Ever. Because when it’s wrong, it can make your life turn to grey and sometimes you don’t even notice until you wake up one morning and realize years have gone by.”
He takes a gulp of air, chokes back the tears that threaten to fall… the ones he’d hoped he’d gotten all out in the back of Twyla’s van. All the years alone, all the years with Sebastian…
He needs to stop talking, he needs someone to take the proverbial shovel out of his hands so he can quit digging himself into a hole… but the words don’t stop.
“I think I’ve been lucky enough to have chosen the person I want to spend the rest of my life with at the age of five. It hasn’t always looked the way I wanted it to, or thought it would… but Patrick, Patrick fills my life with technicolor in a way I’ve never been grateful enough, or wise enough to see as the gift it truly is.”
His eyes meet Stevie’s and she’s crying and shaking her head and he is royally fucking this up so bad. He’s telling an entire reception hall that he’s in love with his best friend that’s now married to a man that’s not him.
And David wants to be mad, he wants to despise Ken for getting what he’s always wanted, for being the man that was enough for Patrick… but he knows that’s not fair.
He wants Patrick to be happy, Patrick deserves the fucking world.
“This isn’t how I expected things to end up, but it’s fine. It truly is… because I know no matter where you are, or what you're doing, or who you’re with… I will always, truly, honestly, and completely love you.”
The furrowing of Ken’s eyebrows and the fond look on Patrick’s face tell him he’s made a severe mistake. He looks anywhere else, for anyone else… and Marcy and Clint are crying.
He needs to end this and get on the first flight home.
“As a… best friend. A-a life long friend. So, please everyone, join me in a toast to the grooms, Patrick and Ken. May your love be full of light and color,” he finishes in a rush, bowing before excusing him from the table.
He leaves as silently as possible as the guests pick back up the party, Twyla pulling a blushing Stevie out onto the dance floor. There’s a nice rooftop just one small flight of stairs up from the reception, heavily decorated in white flowers clearly meant to be another place guests can gather and celebrate but with the slight chill in the air everyone else has remained inside.
The twinkling lights and flowers are a lovely touch, Ken seems to have excellent taste in everything but shoes.
He feels like the biggest fool and wishes he could slip out and pretend this night never happened. He should have said no when Patrick asked him to be his best man.
He expects Stevie to find him but it’s Patrick that’s joined him.
Patrick hands him a champagne flute and it takes every bit of restraint David has not to down the entire thing.
Having a sober mind isn't enough to keep him from asking the question that's been burning in his mind since he found out… since he read Patrick's letter.
"When did you know? That you were interested in men?" He spits out, apparently making this an entire evening of putting his foot in his mouth.
"I think I've known since that kiss on your 18th birthday."
"Oh my God! Who the hell did you kiss at my birthday?"
Patrick chuckles ruefully, "I uh… I only realized tonight that you— that you forgot. I kissed you. Probably about five Polar Bear shots in? I thought you just wanted to forget about it, not that you actually had no memory of it."
David watches Patrick swallow back the emotions that are much too inappropriate to have at one’s wedding.
"That's why you went to the dance with Rachel."
"And you went with Sebastian."
David feels his heart shatter and wonders if this is the last time it’ll be able to. Soon Patrick’s excusing himself to rejoin the wedding party and David moves through the rest of the wedding without really seeing, hearing, or feeling anything.
He’s tasting metal for some reason though.
The goodbyes at the airport aren’t much different. He knows Ken’s watching his every move as if trying to figure him out. He knows he wraps his arms around Patrick’s neck briefly, not allowing himself the goodbye hug he wants to take.
He knows he sees Stevie making out with Twyla as he rushes off to the security line.
And he knows he cries into Stevie’s shoulder the entire plane ride home.
*
When he gets home he throws himself into finding the best little hotel for him and Stevie to invest in.
They buy one two months later. It needs a lot of renovations but he and Stevie, with the help of the townspeople, do most of it themselves.
It's a quaint little hotel a few towns over that backs up to a large lake. The property itself is so beautiful David doesn't think they'll have any trouble filling the rooms with guests.
He works so long and so hard that he often doesn't have the energy to go home at the end of the day and instead stays in one of the first rooms they renovated.
Stevie's concerned, he can tell because some nights she says with him, curled around him on the air mattress. She never says anything, doesn't bring up the fact he's running from his own heartbreak.
They plan a grand opening nearly a year after they purchased the hotel.
He thinks, just for a moment about inviting Patrick but he's decided to keep that door solidly shut.
He can't keep reopening it. Not now, not after everything.
Yet once again, Patrick finds a way to slip in and he almost goes unnoticed as he arrives at the party just as it's coming to a close.
He absolutely would have missed him if Stevie's sly smile hadn't tipped him off.
He turns and finds Patrick's standing in the lobby of his hotel wearing a wrinkled sport coat and David's unsure how he could have thought he'd ever love anyone else.
"Hi," he whispers so softly David's not sure he can be heard over the close friends still milling about, over Twyla telling a story about her mother's third husband in the background.
But Patrick hears him because he smiles tentatively and whispers "hi," back.
"So I uh… I guess I need a room?"
"Any baggage?"
Patrick blinks and shakes his head. "No, I left it behind."
"So your… husband?"
"Won't be joining me. We… both knew it wasn't right."
David can feel his eyes brimming with tears, his chest swelling with that familiar feeling of hope.
"Would you like the garden view or the lake view? I recommend the lake," he manages to spit out, already moving toward the front desk to grab the keys.
The keys to the room he's spent most of the remodel in.
Patrick nods, "sea it is. Would you mind, showing me to my room?"
David just briskly turns toward the stairs and takes them two at a time, moving quickly towards what feels like may be the rest of his life.
He moves into the room, his body trembling as he turns to face Patrick.
He doesn't know what to say, he doesn't know what to do as he takes in the rumpled man before him.
Please, please let this be it.
"David Rose, I should've taken you to prom. I should've reminded you every day what that kiss on your eighteenth birthday meant… I should spend a lifetime apologizing for all the bullshit I've put you through but I can't do any of those things. Maybe we can just… start over?" He says softly, moving into David's space, his hands hovering only a moment before wrapping around David's waist.
David wraps his arms around Patrick's neck without any hesitation.
"David Rose, can I take you to prom?"
"Better late than never," he says, a wet laugh erupting from his mouth, the cool silver of his rings warming against the skin of Patrick's neck as he pulls him in.
This starts like all the almost kisses that have stretched their entirety of their friendship; a nose grazing a nose, a huff of warm air against a cheek as the temptation to pull away lingers between them as if this still somehow can’t be real, lips parting and closing as if unsure where they’d like to settle.
But this time, they do meet… and David’s not going to forget it this time.
The kiss tastes like the salt of decades of tears, years of miss opportunities, and the start of forever.