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Usually, Patrick would be glad to have somebody here. Actually, Patrick was more often than not the one who showed up on his sad friend's doorstep. So, he would be greatful for it to be the other way around for once. However, when you're drinking and wallowing in your own self pity, you don't typically want your friends over.
Patrick didn't really get why Brendon was over in the first place. Sure, they were friends, but why did he care enough to show up to his house unannounced? Maybe Pete had sent him to check up on him. Or maybe Brendon just felt bad.
That thought made Patrick feel even worse - he didn't want Brendon's pity. He was an adult, and he didn't need another man to coddle him. Patrick could take care of himself.
"Hey, Rick," Brendon slid his hands into the pockets of his jeans, standing above Patrick, who was sitting on the couch.
"What?" Patrick's eyebrows furrowed, knit together in confusion, and a little bit of annoyance. He was already upset, and Brendon being here was sort of frustrating him. Especially because he was just hovering around.
"I just...thought I'd stop by. Are you feeling alright?"
That tone, that look. Clear pity. Patrick didn't need this.
"Jesus, Brendon, just - just go." It came out harsher than he initially intended. He saw Brendon wince. God, he just can't do anything right, can he?
Brendon's eyes scanned the room.
Empty beer bottles littered the floor around the couch, and it looked like Patrick hadn't left said couch in days. Brendon hadn't heard from the guy in almost two weeks, no way he was just going to leave!
"No, dude, I'm worried about you! Where have you been?"
"Listen, I get it if Pete sent you, but I don't need a babysitter."
Now it was Brendon's turn to furrow his brows. "Pete?" He crossed his arms.
"Are you serious, Patrick? I'm not here because of Pete. I'm here because I care about you."
Brendon had to be out of his mind to care about Patrick. Especially to this extent.
He couldn't even look at him. He felt awful and his head hurt, likely from all his drinking the previous night. He closed his eyes tight, wishing he could will Brendon away.
Unfortunately, he was still standing there, concern on his face, when Patrick opened his eyes again.
Everything used to be so good. He had a band, friends, he had everything. And here he was now, on a couch in the dark with his friend standing above him. Where did it all go wrong?
Maybe if he manned up and actually called Pete, things could be okay by now. But he didn't. He didn't want to talk to Pete, or Joe, or Andy. And he especially didn't want Brendon prying into his personal life.
A voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Rick?"
Patrick frowned, meeting Brendon's wide brown eyes. "Yeah?"
"I'm gonna make dinner."
He watched Brendon retreat to the kitchen. He knew Brendon knew just where everything was, he had been over enough to know Patrick's kitchen like the back of his hand. To be honest, dinner sounded nice. He couldn't remember the last time he ate a full meal.
Maybe having Brendon around wasn't so bad. Maybe he couldn't take care of himself quite as well as he claimed.