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There was a lot that could be said about Patrick and how he viewed himself and the world he lived in. It was weird for most to understand, but there was a small part of him that understood their skepticism, as he knew he was the only real person in existence. Most people didn't like to hear how they were nothing more than figments of his imagination or, rather, part of a simulation he was in and how their existence depended on him. It all sounded so insane to them, but Patrick knew it to be true. He didn't experience the world like others did. He didn't feel things like others did. He didn't have these invisible barriers holding him back like most people seemed to. He understood the concept of morals and empathy, but to feel them was something else entirely. He followed rules when it benefited him to do so. He manipulated those around him to receive what he wanted, whether that be a reaction of some sort or something else entirely. He knew how his world operated. He knew how he fit into it. He was in control. He knew that, or at least that's how it was supposed to be. There was a glitch somewhere in the system, or rather, inside Patrick himself. It made it hard for him to function sometimes. It weakened him. The doctors called it a migraine and dismissed it as nothing to be too concerned about, but Patrick knew otherwise. Those doctors didn't feel what he felt. Those doctors weren't real like him.
It should be noted that the migraines didn't always come with a prodrome and aura period, but on the occasions that they did, it almost felt worse, as Patrick knew his world was about to fall apart around him if not just for a little while. It often started out with loss of appetite. It wasn't a detail most noticed. Sometimes even Patrick didn't pick up on it until much later, as he had never been one to eat much, and when he did, his eating habits were almost erratic. He would find himself more tired than usual. He could remember countless times Henry had smacked him after he fell asleep in class so he wouldn't remain at his desk when it was time to leave. His neck would feel stiff, and he would become irritable. It was a fact that his friends often bitched about, as it made him hard to deal with. He wasn't the most stable person as it was, and to toss that into the mix made it so much worse. Patrick had learned to hide most of the issues that came with the prodrome period of the years. He learned to cope with the symptoms, but Henry noticed. He always seemed to notice when he wasn't quite himself. Most might mistake this for some kind of emotional attachment, but Patrick knew better. It was a survival instinct. One that even he couldn't fool.
“Pat?” Henry called out as he noticed how his friend had almost fallen against him as the two of them sat together, doing his best not to become too frustrated over the sudden close contact. “You okay, man?”
“Fine.. I'm fine.” Patrick muttered as he tried to sit upright on his own, looking at his lunch with no real intentions to eat it. “Just tired.”
“You look dead on your feet.” Henry remarked as he bit into his sandwich, hesitating for a moment before he continued. “More so than usual.”
“I didn't get much sleep last night.” Patrick muttered as he stifled a yawn as he waited for their other two friends to join them, not missing the look he received in return. “Damn storm kept me up.”
“Patrick Hockstetter can't sleep because of a little thunder? I've heard better lies from preschoolers.” Henry noted as he reflected on the lie that was just told to him, shaking his head a bit as he shoved some kind of caffeinated drink into the other boy's hands before their friends had a chance to see. “Just— Here. This should wake you up a bit.”
“Thanks.” Patrick muttered as he accepted the drink without hesitation, downing about half of it in one go before he spoke again. “The sun's too damn bright today.”
The prodrome period could last anywhere from hours to days, but the switch to the aura stage was unmistakable. It took place minutes to hours before or even during the main event at times. Patrick noticed the change in his vision first. The world became almost too bright. It flashed, and then there were the dark places where it was hard for him to see anything at all. He felt numb on one side, and then he became so dizzy that he almost collapsed then and there. His voice came out slurred, and then it faded into the main event, and for a moment Patrick didn't know where he was. He felt sick and the world around him was too much for him to handle, but the pain was the worst of it. He wanted to scream, but each time he moved, it became worse. His head throbbed. He hated it. He was real. He was real.
“Calm down— Calm down.” Henry encouraged as he took hold of his friend in order to ground him, taking notice when he suddenly vomited from the movement. “Shit—”
“Make it stop.” Patrick pleaded with a sense of desperation that sounded unnatural from someone like him, allowing himself to be held as his words continued to come out in slurs. “Please.. Please.. Please..”
Henry held Patrick until the worst of it ended, but that didn't mean it was over. It was far from over. There was this ringing in his ears that remained long after the fact. It remained hard for him to focus. His neck hurt, and there was pressure behind his eyes. He felt as if he was on a boat that was continuously rocking back and forth. It made him nauseous, which said a lot when he considered the fact that he had almost vomited on Henry's shoes moments before. No one dared say a word about how Henry looked out for him during moments like this. Belch and Vic turned a blind eye to it, and while Patrick would like to believe that was because they were afraid of him, he knew it was because they were afraid of Henry. He was vulnerable, and Henry protected him because of it. He protected him because he chose to do so. Patrick knew Henry wasn't real, but for a moment he wished he could be.