#PATRICK STRIPED SCARF MOMENT

[vampylily]

(via ahomeboyslife)

i miss truck stops and sneaking nachos.

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

Curiosity Killed The Cat | Owen Patrick Joyner

Requested: Yes/No

Hi! I was wondering if you can do an Owen imagine kinda based off his Instagram story of him finding a cat. I was thinking he’d actually find the missing cat though and come ring your doorbell at 4am bc he’s chaotic. You can decide everything. Thank you in advance!!!

A/N: The cat doesn’t actually die in this, it’s just a saying that i liked for the title, so don’t worry! It’s got a happy ending!

Pairing: Owen x Fem!Reader

Song(s) used: none 

Warnings: none

Words: 3,949

A week. It had been exactly one week since y/n last saw her cat, Tunabean. The white, grey striped Ragamuffin cat had been absent from y/n’s apartment for way longer than she normally would be and it worried y/n to the point where she’d be out looking for the little rascal every night after work. 

“Found her yet?” Jamila asked as she entered y/n’s apartment after coming home from work. 

Jamila was y/n’s roommate and best friend since college. The two had lived together through their college career and decided to be roommates after too, as long as neither had significant others to go live with. 

“No,” y/n’s lip stuck out into a pout as she feverishly reposted the message on all her social media platforms. “People have been tearing down my posters as well. Did you see the ones near Andrews Park? They were torn to shreds!” 

Jamila pulled her lips into a tight smile before putting her bags on the dining room table and joining y/n on the couch. “Yeah, I saw. I’m really sorry, y/n. If you want, we can go and put up some more posters? Exchange the torn up ones with some fresh ones?”

“You’d do that for me?” 

“Of course! Sweetie, I’d do anything to get little Bean home, you know that, right?” y/n nodded her head in response, though she wasn’t sure if she knew that. 

Jamila wasn’t the biggest fan of Tunabean at first. She hated cats. Growing up, she’d always had a dog but never a cat. She didn’t trust the little rascals for one second. So, when y/n showed up with little Tunabean after having had what felt like the worst week of her life, Jamila was a tiny bit angry. But eventually warmed up to Tunabean when the little kitty seemed so placid, you could easily cuddle up to it on the sofa. 

“Let’s go find Zach at his work, bribe him to print me more posters for cheap, hang ‘em up around town and then maybe Tino’s?” Jamila’s eyes lit up at the mention of her favorite restaurant. 

She snapped her fingers and pointed finger guns at her best friend. “Sounds like a plan!” she said and wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck. It was a cold November day and no person could leave their house consciously without being bundled up into layers and layers of clothing.  

“I hope Bean didn’t hide under a car and the owner didn’t tap the hood before getting in���” y/n muttered, her voice thick with worry, as they exited the apartment building and stepped into the blistering cold. 

“I’m sure she just found a few boyfriends and is spending her time with them,” Jamila tried to reassure her, but knew all-too-well that Tunabean wouldn’t stay away this long, even if she had a lover cat to make little kittens with. She loved Jamila and y/n’s home too much. 

“Are you slut shaming my cat right now?” 

“Our cat,” Jamila corrected, causing a smile to find its way to y/n’s face, “And no, I am not. I’m just trying to be optimistic here, y/n.” Jamila tucked her cold hands into the pockets of her tan peacoat. “I’m sure Tunabean is alright.” 

“What if she isn’t though? What if she’s like meowing somewhere in the middle of Norman and no one to hear her pleas?” Jamila rolled her eyes at how dramatic her best friend was being.  

“Norman ain’t that big, sweetie. I’m sure if she’s meowing somewhere, we would’ve heard her already.” 

“Exactly! Which means she’s either dead or god knows anywhere! She could be in Oklahoma City! We don’t know that!” y/n exclaimed loudly, using excessive hand gestures more so to keep herself warm than emphasis. 

Jamila stopped in her tracks and grabbed y/n by the shoulders, stopping her too. “Stop being such a drama queen, y/n! I’m sure Tunabean is fine. Maybe she’s on an adventure or making new friends, you don’t know that!” 

“You don’t care about our child, admit it,” y/n muttered. This rendered Jamila silent. “Admit you don’t care about our child, Jam!” Passer-byers shot them a weirded out glare, which Jamila sent right back. 

“Oh, please! Don’t pretend there are no lesbian families in Norman too!” she yelled at them. The comical side of the whole situation made y/n laugh a tiny bit. “There’s that smile I like to see.” Jamila softly touched y/n’s chin with her knuckle before grabbing the girl’s hand in hers. The warmth of Jamila’s hand radiating through to y/n’s made her feel all toasty. “Let’s go print some posters!”  

The girls reached a one-storey building with red decrepit letters stuck to the roof. 

HOOPER PRINTING CO. 

As y/n opened the glass door and held it for Jamila to walk in, the smell of ink reached her nostrils. Though not a very traditional scent to love, it reminded y/n of one of her best friends. It was like  her brain just knew that the muscles in her cheeks would soon start to hurt thanks to Zachary. A boy the girls had met in college as Xana. 

Jamila spotted the bleached blonde mop of hair immediately and signaled to y/n to sneak up to him. On their tippy toes, the two approached the tall slender man, and when they were close enough, they took in a deep breath and-- “Don’t even think about it,” Zach mumbled without even looking at them. 

Jamila and y/n glanced at each other, cheeks puffed out from the breath they were holding. “How’d you--?” y/n didn’t even finish her sentence as she looked past Zach and her eyes landed on a tiny tv screen. Cameras, of course. 

“Since when do you have security cameras?” y/n asked as she hopped onto the counter Zach was sorting invoices on. 

He shrugged, “Sometime this week, I think.” His bright blue eyes met y/n’s as she sheepishly looked at him while kicking her legs. The boy sighed exasperated, knowing all too well what the girls are here for. “No. Not again.” 

“Please, Zachy! Tunabean is still missing and her posters have been ripped down!” Her eyes teared up at the thought of her kitty being out there all by herself in Norman. All she could hope was that the creepy dudes from Doyle’s didn’t get their filthy paws on her little princess. 

“Come on, Zach. You love that cat too!” Jamila chimed in, crossing her arms across her chest and glaring at him knowingly. 

“Fine, come here,” he reached out his hand and y/n handed him the thumb drive on which she kept her self-made posters. “You’re gonna have to buy me Tino’s though.” 

“We were going there afterwards, if you wanna join?” y/n’s voice was teasing and sly. 

“I’m off at five,” he simply stated before pressing a few buttons on his desktop and waking up the printer closest to them. “How long has she been gone for?” he then asked after a few beats of silence. Y/N dropped her head and stared at her still moving legs for a moment. 

“About a week,” she replied. 

Zach pulled his lips into a tight smile. He reached his hand out and placed it gently on top of hers. “She’ll come back.” 

“How can you be so sure? She might be hurt somewhere or dead and I won’t even know. I won’t even be able to say goodbye to her.” Tears pooled in y/n’s eyes as she thought of the sweet little kitten she had found in a ‘take one for free’ box on a curb one day. She was the last one left. 

“I’m not sure, y/n. But I’d like to be optimistic. Besides, Tunabean is resilient and the most independent kitty I’ve ever known. She’ll survive. She’s probably out adventuring with some friends.” 

Though the words weren’t very reassuring and y/n knew she had every right to be worried, they did calm her down a little. Tunabean was resilient and extremely independent. She’ll find her way back home.    

*

“I’ll see you guys later, bye!” Owen waved at his friends as he stepped into the cold November night. It was 4 am and he was just returning home from a day spent with friends. He had fallen asleep during the movie, only waking up in the middle of the night, realizing his parents were probably worrying about him, seeing he’d told them he’d be home by midnight at the latest. 

He softly hummed along to the song that was playing in his head as he walked down West Main Street, his hands tucked deep into his pockets to try and keep them warm. He should’ve brought a thicker coat or a thicker jumper. 

“Ah, mister Joyner!” a familiar voice with a thick accent made him shake out of his train of thought about the cold. The friendly face of the robust Italian greeted him in the dim light of the restaurant behind him. 

“Still working, Tino?” Owen asked as he stopped in his tracks to talk to the man everyone in Norman, Oklahoma loved. 

“Already back at work, ragazzino!” he replied in his thick Italian accent. Owen always thought it was fake and just for show to lure clients, so that they knew he was a pure Italian man, sharing his love for the Italian cuisine in his restaurant. 

“At four in the morning?!” Owen exclaimed, stunned at the man’s determination for his job. 

“Deliveries don’t wait, signore.” His laugh boomed into the empty, dark streets of Norman. Owen couldn’t help but let out a laugh too while his eyes averted and landed on a poster in the window. A black-and-white picture of a small cat stared back at him.  

MISSING: TUNABEAN

Grey-and-white striped ragamuffin cat, listens to the name Tunabean. 

“She’s been missing for a week, the poor girl who owns her is worried sick,” Tino told Owen when he noticed what he was looking at. The blond twenty-year-old pressed his lips together. He only ever had a dog that had never run away, but he could imagine what it would be like to not know where your pet is. He would totally lose it if Bindi ever went missing. 

“I feel sorry for her,” Owen said, unsure of anything else to say. 

“Yeah, me too,” said Tino. “Keep an eye out for Tunabean, yeah?” 

“I will.” 

And with that, Owen continued his walk back home. The cat on the poster kept haunting his mind. Those big eyes were something he wouldn’t forget anytime soon. Thanks to said image plastered in his brain, he even started hearing meowing when he got to Andrews Park. It was a soft, fragile meow that had to echo through his brain for a few seconds before he realized it actually came from the bushes he was walking past as he passed through Andrews Park. 

Curiously, and kind of feverishly, Owen started to dig into the shrubbery until he found a tiny cat. “Oh, don’t worry, little one. I got you.” He said as he carefully detangled it from the branches. As he held it up to his face, he found the big, round eyes from the poster staring back at him in real life. “Tunabean?” he cooed, and the cat tilted its head ever so slightly. 

He stroked the cat’s head and scratched behind her ear before pulling it closer into his chest. She was shivering, but Owen wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or the fear. If she’d been missing for a week, God knows how long she must’ve been stuck in there. 

“You hurt, little one?” he mumbled to it as he absentmindedly made his way to the one person he knew could help. 

“Owen,” Emmy groaned when she’d opened the door to find him standing on the curb with a pout on his face. “It’s four in the morning, I have to be up in an hour for work.” 

“That’s why I’m here,” he said and showed her the cat he had tucked in his jacket to keep it warm. “I found her in the bushes near Andrews Park. Can you check if she’s okay?” Emmy’s eyes darted from the cat to Owen and back. “Please, Emmy? You’re the only one I know could help her out.” 

“Come on in,” she sighed, clearly disgruntled at the early wakeup call. But she couldn’t say no to a little kitty in need. She’d been rescuing animals since she was a little girl, she wasn’t going to leave this one in the dust. 

Owen placed the cat on the table as it meowed and nudged Owen���s hand with her head. “It’s okay, Tunabean, Emmy here is gonna make sure you’re okay.” 

“Tunabean?” Emmy asked as she put on latex gloves. 

“Yeah, I think it’s the cat from the missing posters you see all around town?” 

Emmy gingerly took the cat in her gloved hands and started her check-up. “Ah, yes! My brother and his buddies took some of them down, thinking they were ‘rebellious’.” She rolled her eyes. “You gonna bring her back?” 

“Of course, Tino said the owner was worried sick about her.” 

Emmy smiled at this. Owen had always been the compassionate one in their friend group. He’d only act upon things if he was sure it wouldn’t hurt anyone else. Though, sometimes that compassion vanished when they were with their friends and he got a ‘brilliant’ idea, which was most likely kind of dangerous. 

“Oh, look,” Emmy whispered as she showed Tunabean’s paw. There was a thorn stuck in the little pad. “Poor thing! Hold her for a second, please? I’m gonna get my tweezers to get it out.” Owen placed a hand on the cat’s stomach, his fingers lightly scratching at the white fur. 

Emmy returned with everything she needed, and within a few seconds, Tunabean was freed from the thorn in her paw and back on her feet. She suddenly seemed a lot more peppy than she was before. 

“Let’s get you home, yeah?” Owen said as he scooped the kitten back up into his arms, holding it close to his chest. Emmy took her gloves off and scratched the cat’s head. 

“Goodbye, Tunabean,” she cooed, earning licks from her rough little tongue. “Ooh, I think I got the girl’s address here somewhere. Tunabean is Anna’s client and we’ve got them in the system.” 

As quickly as she’d said it, she’d handed the address over to Owen. After thanking her profusely, Owen went on his way with the cat tucked safely in his jacket for warmth. 

He was nervous as it was already five in the morning and the woman most definitely was still asleep. But he didn’t want to keep her in even more suspense and worry about her cat as she already was. 

“Hello?” a sleepy voice sounded through the intercom. 

“Hi, I’m Owen, I think I got your cat, Tunabean?” 

A silence fell, only Tunabean’s sleepy snoring disrupting the peace and quiet of the night. The poor girl had fallen asleep in Owen’s arms. He almost felt sad he had to give her away again. 

It took a good minute before the door to the apartment building opened up and a girl in red flannel pj’s opened the door. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun with big strands falling out of it. Though she’d probably rather not be seen like this out in public, Owen thought she looked breathtaking, even in the dim light from the hallway of her corridor and the street lights. 

“You really got Tunabean?” she asked as she held onto the door, squishing herself in the small opening she’d granted herself. Owen opened his jacket and carefully showed her the cat who’d woken up from her slumber. “Tunabean!” the girl exclaimed and grabbed the grey pet from the boy’s hands. Their fingers brushed ever so slightly, and though y/n was too busy with her cat, Owen felt it. He felt the spark. 

“I would invite you inside for a drink to thank you, but my roommate is still asleep and I don’t want to wake her.” Owen held up his hand, a smile tugging at his lips as he shook his head. 

“That’s okay. I don’t need a reward. I’m just glad I could reunite the two of you again,” he said, smiling at the girl and her cat. “Oh! She did have a thorn in her paw though, but my friend is a vet and I took her to her for a check-up before I came here.” 

“Aw, poor Bean,” she scratched the cat’s head before turning back to the blonde boy. “Thank you. That’s very considerate of you.” He tipped his head forward, the smile still persistent on his lips. 

“Glad I could help,” he repeated, jamming his hands into the pockets of his jacket again. “I’m gonna go though. I’m sure you’d rather go back to sleep right now than talk to a complete stranger on your doorstep.” 

“Oh, uhm, okay… Goodbye then? And thank you again for bringing Tunabean back.” 

Owen took a few steps backwards as he said, “You’re most welcome. Goodbye, Tunabean and…” 

“Y/N.” 

“Goodbye Tunabean and y/n.” His eyes lingered on hers for a few more seconds before he turned around to really make his way home now, no distractions. 

“Wait! I didn’t catch yours!” she whisper-shouted after him. 

He turned again, but kept walking. “Owen,” he said. 

“Goodbye, Owen.” She grabbed Tunabean’s paw and waved at him with it, causing a giggle to rake through Owen’s body. With his hand still in his pocket, he waved back. 

The more distance he created between them, the bigger his smile became as he thought of her. She was the epitome of a beautiful dream come to life. It made him wonder what she’d look like if she did put effort into her appearance. That could just be the death of him. 

*

After two more hours of sleep, the alarm blaring through her room woke y/n from a beautiful dream with the mysterious blonde boy that rang her doorbell very early in the morning. It caused her to wake up with the thought of him, wondering if she’d ever see him again. 

“Morning,” she greeted Jamila when she found her best friend in the living room, gathering all her stuff. “Guess who came home last night!” As if on cue, the little cat pattered across the hardwood floor towards the dark beauty that was Jamila. Her eyes widened as did her smile upon seeing the white-and-grey ragamuffin. 

“Bean!” Jamila shrieked as she knelt down to pick the four-legged friend off the floor. “Oh, baby! I missed you!” She peppered the cat with kisses, receiving the kisses back from her tiny pink tongue. “Where’d you find him?” 

“Oh, I didn’t. This guy, Owen, did. He brought her back at, like, five in the morning,” y/n explained as she absentmindedly smiled at the thought of those pretty blue-ish eyes. 

“And this Owen guy is pretty cute, isn’t he?” Jamila asked upon noticing her best friend’s flustered demeanor. “Did you ask for his number?” Y/N rolled her eyes before she started gathering her things she needed for work. 

“It was five in the morning, I had just woken up and I was too busy with Tunabean’s return to even think of that,” she explained, mostly cursing at herself for not asking his number. “Besides, I looked disgusting, I doubt he thought I was the epitome of beauty.” 

Jamila simply shook her head, debating against saying any more about it before pressing a kiss to y/n’s cheek and leaving the apartment. 

A silence fell over the space, leaving y/n alone with her thoughts. Her beautiful, yet annoying thoughts of the handsome boy at her front door. “He was handsome, wasn’t he, Tunabean?” she asked her cat, who simply tilted her head to the side as she sat in front of y/n on the floor. 

Once y/n had gathered her stuff for work today, she said goodbye to Tunabean and left the apartment. She was fumbling around in her handbag to look for her car keys when a vaguely familiar voice made her look up. 

The gorgeous blue eyes she’d been dreaming of for two whole hours were staring down at her whilst the plump pink lips curled up into a dreamy smile. “Oh, hey, Owen.” 

“I wanted to come and check up on Tunabean,” he carefully said, pointing up at the building she’d just come out of. “You know, see if she’s okay and stuff.” He suddenly seemed nervous. More nervous than he did at five in the morning. 

“Uhm, she’s okay, actually. Slept well and seemed very chipper this morning,” y/n reassured him, a smile playing at her lips as her eyes scanned his face. She made sure to make a mental note of every single detail of his face. Like how he stuck his tongue between his teeth as he smiled or how his eyes squinted slightly or the stubble faintly growing on his chin. 

“Oh, okay, good. That’s--that’s all, then…” He awkwardly coughed. 

Y/N awaited anything else, her eyes darting left and right as they just fumblingly stood on the curb in front of y/n’s apartment. “I-uhm… I have to get to work though, so…” She pointed somewhere behind Owen, indicating she needed to pass him and get going. 

“Right!” he said and took a step aside to let her through. She offered him a little wave and a soft ‘bye’ as she passed him. He watched her walk away, cursing at himself for not asking what he really wanted to ask. “Wait!” he yelled, making her stop in her tracks and turn around again with an expectant look on her face. “That’s-that’s not what I wanted to ask. I mean it was, but it wasn’t the only thing I wanted to ask.” He scratched the back of his neck as y/n’s eyes searched for an answer on his face. 

Y/N looked at him with a piercing glint in her eyes, urging him to continue. 

“Oh, right! Uhm… Would you -- would you maybe wanna go have a drink with me later today? Or something?” Her smile grew wider as she slowly nodded her head in response. 

“I’m off at five. Meet me at Gray Owl then,” she told him before turning to walk away. 

Owen was left on her curb, wondering if he had died. He thought she looked pretty when she’d just rolled out of bed, but now that she was all dolled up for work, she was the most beautiful person he had ever seen. And that smile. That smile was killer. 

She was more than the epitome of a dream come to life. She was beauty and grace. She was a poem and the poet. She was the lyrics and the melody. She was the question and the answer. 

Owen grew more and more curious about that girl the more he thought of her. He wanted to know what she liked and what she absolutely hated. He wanted to know how she laughed and how she cried, if she sang whenever her mind wandered. He wanted to know how she liked her eggs in the morning. 

Even though he knew curiosity killed the cat, he knew for a fact the cat in this story was just the beginning of something beautiful. 

 *

*

*

JATP taglist: @hannahhistorian92 @marinettepotterandplagg @thequirkybookaholic @bookdealer5 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @hemmingsness @iainttakingshitfromnobody @ifilwtmfc @angryknightstatesmantrash @kiss-themoongoodbye @rudysbay @thedarkqueenofavalon​ @caitsymichelle13​ @calamitykaty @wiselight @kcd15​ @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic @stars-soph @kinda-really-lost @notasofti

Owen taglist: @alexpjoyner

Lemme know if you wanna be on my taglist! 

[trxck-r-treat]

Figuring it out, Part 1

Summary: Gerard falls and Patrick is there to pick them up.

My first fic on here sorry if its bad. Thanks @elenamatisstuff for helping me

It was the noise that started this whole situation. It's not that noises were uncommon in this building. With two bassists, Pete and his boyfriend, living one floor up, and two guitarists, Ray and Frank, living one floor down, noises were bound to happen. At no point did Patrick expect his time living in this building to be quiet.

But the noise he heard right outside his door was concerning. It was a high pitched squeak and then "clatter clatter clatter THUMP," And then some shuffling noises.

And it sounded like it could easily be Pete and Mikey type antics (he still vividly remembered Pete almost breaking his arm because Mikey convinced him to do parkour down the stairs. His upstairs neighbors were maybe not the brightest.)

And so Patrick opened the door, mostly because he was desparate for anything to think about that wasn't his job or his bills or his otherwise stressful life. Plus, he was still Pete's emergency contact and if someone was driving him to the hospital it might as well be Patrick.

It wasn't Pete sitting on the floor, collapsed at the bottom of the stairs, looking hurt. It was someone else.

They wore a long black coat and striped scarf that almost covered them, spilling onto the floor. Their hair was dyed black, except for a shock of bright blue at the roots. Eyes smudged with makeup stared at the floor in front of them, wide and blinking in shock.

It took him a second, but Patrick recognized the person. Take away the teal hair and smudged lipstick and they would look like they did last time they had spoken to Patrick. Which was in Pete's apartment.

"Gerard?"

They blinked again and then looked up. "Patrick."

"You okay?"

They looked up at the staircase, and then at the ground, seeming a little dazed.

"I fell down the stairs."

Then they were silent again.

Whether they were physically injured or just shaken up was hard to tell. Looking at their face Patrick noticed the tracks in the eyeshadow, the way their eyes were shining. He realized they had been crying.

"Um," Patrick said, shifting in the doorway. "Are you like, hurt or...?"

Finally they seemed to kind of snap out of it, and looked up at him. "Uh. No, I- no. Um. Sorry. I'll leave," they stuttered, and then started to stand up.

"No, it's fine, Gerard, I just... you said you fell, and you look..." Patrick debated whether to mention the crying thing and decided against it. "Were you looking for Mikey? Because he and Pete went out."

They closed their eyes and sighed, longsufferingly. "Yeah, that's..." and then they sighed again, this wavering little sigh that sounded on the verge of tears.

"You could call him?" Patrick suggested, which he was sure Gerard had already thought of, but he didn't know how else to help and he wanted to do something.

"My phone's dead," they replied miserably.

"Well, you can use mine. Or I think Ray and Frank are home."

There was a short moment of silence, when the two just stared at each other. And then Gerard burst into tears.

"Woah, hey," Patrick stepped forward, and then did this abortive little shuffle in front of them. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," they struggled to get out between sobs. "I'm- fuck, I'm sorry, man, I'm so fucking-"

"It's okay," he said softly. He sank to his knees, joining them on the floor of the landing. "Just, are you alright?"

They hiccuped and tried to catch their breath. "I- y-yeah... well, I just-" and then they broke down into loud sobbing again.

He raised a hand toward them, but let it fall into his lap.

"Uh, Gerard?" he said. If they heard him they gave no indication of it. "You want to go inside? You can charge your phone."

They didn't respond but Patrick stood anyways, and held out a hand to help them up. They looked up, wiped their eyes with their sleeve (smudging their makeup even more), and then took his hand.

His door was already open and he started to lead them inside, but they stopped.

"You don't have to-" they started, but he cut them off.

"It's fine, Gerard," he said. "You're not, like, interrupting anything." Which was true. Normally he would be getting ready to sleep at this time, because he would be tired from his job. But since his own recklessness (in collaboration with Pete) had convinced him to quit that job, he was less tired and more stressed and bored. Not that this was the distraction he would have picked, but anyways.

Gerard rocked back and forth on their heels for a second before reluctantly following him inside and standing in the entrance.

"You- uh." He stopped. He was going to tell them they could sit down or something but then he remembered he didn't really have much in the way of furniture. A chair which was currently covered in papers, and a few overturned crates. Yeah, see, this is why Patrick needed a job.

He started clearing off the chair, but then remembered Gerard's need for a charger and redirected himself to the table. "Um, let me just grab this... here. You have an iPhone, right? There's an outlet right there."

Gerard took the charger with a sad little smile, and Patrick returned to clearing off the furniture.

"What happened?" he said, trying to break the awkward silence. "I mean, you don't have to-"

"No it's fine." They sighed, that same shaky sigh as before. "Frank. He's my boyfriend." Then they scoffed and corrected, "*Was* my boyfriend."

"Oh. Sorry, I had no idea."

"How would you know?"

That was true, but he still felt guilty knowing that what he said had made them cry.

"Broke up earlier today," they murmured, looking distracted, swaying a little awkwardly. "I was gonna go to Mikey. He said- but he wasn't there and I- well then I fell down the stairs and y'know..."

They looked like they were having a miserable day, and that sounded like a miserable day to have so it made sense.

They were still standing in the doorway, just kind of swaying, and then suddenly they stilled themself and straightened up. "I didn't- I-I'm not drunk."

"Okay," Patrick replied.

"I swear I'm not, I'm just clumsy."

"Okay, I believe you."

They looked at him uncertainly for a moment and then seemed satisfied that he was telling the truth, and a momentary smile flicked across their lips. They relaxed a little, swaying again.

"Are you sure you're alright, like physically? You didn't hit your head, did you?" It was easy for Patrick to chalk up the weird reactions and the sudden crying to a really bad day, but he was also uncomfortably familiar with the symptoms of concussion.

"No. I'm fine, I only hurt my hands when I landed."

"Oh, shit, does it still hurt? Is it bruised? Here, I can get you some ice, sit down." He had finished clearing the chair, and gestured for Gerard to sit as he hurried off into the kitchen.

"It's just my hands, Patrick, they're fine."

"No way, man, I've seen your art. Your hands are fucking important. Just let me give you something just in case." Unfortunately Patrick didn't have an ice pack, or an ice tray. But he did have frozen veggies.

"Y-you've seen my art?"

Patrick grabbed a bag of peas and also the box of popsicles, because why not.

"Yeah, Mikey showed some of your comics to me and Pete. He told us how great you were and we wanted to see for ourselves." Oh, which reminded him. He pulled out his phone.

To Pete: Where are you guys

Then he added:

To Pete: Mikey's sibling is here looking for him, they're upset

and slipped his phone back into his pocket.

When he reemerged Gerard was sitting on the edge of the chair awkwardly, looking down and fidgeting with the end of his scarf.

He handed them the peas. "Here, let me see. Does it hurt? This is all I have in terms of ice, sorry, but, um... popsicle?"

They stared at the popsicle, and then back at him. And then suddenly they were crying again.

Patrick froze, unsure of what he was supposed to do.

They sniffled and sputtered. "I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me, you're just- you're just being so nice and I just-" They buried their face in their hands, shaking a little. "You don't even know me, I'm just your friend's boyfriend's sibling, w-why are you being so nice to me?"

And Patrick didn't say anything, he just stood there feeling his heart clench because Gerard looked so sad, and seeing them cry made his chest physically ache.

All he could think to do was hold out the popsicle.

After a few seconds Gerard looked up and took it. "Thanks. Sorry, again."

"It's okay."

"Really, I- I don't know, man, I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm like this."

"Really, it's okay. I mean, it's not your fault, you just-" and then he stopped and verbally stumbled for a few seconds, because wow, nice going, Patrick. Let's needlessly remind Gerard about why they were crying in the first place.

"It's not like that," Gerard said. "I mean, me and Frank... I knew that wasn't gonna work, you know? But I guess I was just kind of shocked, and... and now what? Like, I know I didn't want that, but what *do* I want?" They huffed. "I don't know. I'm a mess. I really don't know."

"I don't think you're a mess," Patrick said softly. "I totally know what you mean."

"You do?"

"Yeah, like..." he stopped for a second to think, and then said, "I quit my job. Yesterday."

Gerard raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah," Patrick continued. "And, like, I quit because I knew that an office job isn't what I want to do."

"What do you want to do?"

"That's the thing. I don't know. Like, I think I want to make music, like Pete and Mikey. But I don't have a plan, I haven't figured it out yet. So now I'm like, wow, this sucks and I want my job back."

Gerard nodded.

"Except I don't. I just don't know what I want to do yet, and I have to figure it out. Is that... kind of what you're talking about?"

Gerard's eyes were soft with a flicker of a smile on their lips. "Dude. Yeah, exactly. Just have to figure it out. "

Patrick smiled, and then Gerard smiled back all the way, a small but definite crooked little smile. He realized he liked seeing Gerard smile a lot, especially compared to seeing them cry. Maybe he stared for longer than was necessary.

And then suddenly Patrick heard a loud knock on the door, and before he could answer it, it was unlocking, and then Pete and Mikey barged in.

(Part 2)

(Also gonna tag the geetrick ppl @geetrick @bishopsgeetrick)

[pendragon50]

A Teacher’s Love (Pendragon fanfic)

Chapter 2: Something’s Missing (part 2)

There was no questioning that the loss of his beloved parents had punched a great hole in his life, and there wasn't a day that passed where he wasn't missing them terribly.

But this was unlike how he felt when missing his mother and father.

No, this unknown, recurring feeling was one that gave rise to a blend of other emotions that frustratingly…he just couldn't put his finger on.

And more often than not, this sea of same emotions seemed to resurface at random.

While strolling through the complex underground mall, he'd feel it building and spreading till next thing he knew, he was faced with a genuine sense of…emptiness. But it went past simply feeling some hollow void within him that he was unable to find an explanation for.

So many other emotions would grab hold of him, leaving him frozen and locked in a state of utter confusion.

Loneliness.

Curiosity.

Desire.

When he spent time trying to sort all these emotions out in his own crowded mind, there was something else he felt more frequently.

Longing.

There was no use in attempting to clear his head of these lingering emotions, but he wished some light could be shed on what all of this meant. Why was it that when he was walking towards Chelsea High that he felt that swelling sentiment of lonesomeness? Or why was it when he was passing through Grand Blossom Park that a weight of curiosity fell on his shoulders? Yet still, what caused him to feel an increasing sense of desire when he was sitting at home in his underground apartment?

Above all, what was this longing he had so abruptly become introduced to?

Unfortunately, Patrick had not even a single answer to even one of these questions.

In spite of the frustrating confusion of it all, he told himself there was no use dwelling too heavily on it. All he could do was try to make sense of it all the best he could and hope it would all become clear soon enough.

In the next ten minutes, he was showered, dressed and ready to go.

"Well," he said finally, giving Earnest a quick rub under the chin. "I'm off to work, miss. We'll play with that new toy when I get back, alright?" She nuzzled her head into his outstretched palm and with her tiny tongue, gave it a ticklish lick.

He picked up his brown, leather satchel, stepped through the door…and was on his way to another day at Chelsea High.

When he closed the door and started walking down the hallway, he heard the sounds of voices. He realized instantly that the voices were coming from behind him and as he was turning around to see who it was, a small figure rushed past him, catching him by surprise.

"Oh, sorry!" It was a little girl who looked no older than six. Her hair was long, blond and tied back in a braided ponytail, and she wore a pretty flowered dress with a matching headband. On her back was a red-and-pink striped book bag and in her hands she carried a lunch box that displayed a smiling ladybug.

"That's okay," Patrick smiled. If he were to guess, he'd say this little girl were getting ready for her first day of school, what with how excited and in a hurry she was.

"Sweetie, wait up!" a man's laughing voice called.

Running to catch up with the young child was a man who could have been in his forties, with short black hair and blue eyes.

When the girl saw him gaining speed, she took off running again and called back to him, "Run faster, Daddy! Faster!"

"I can't!" Patrick heard the man call back to her, still laughing. "Daddy's not as fast as his little girl."

"The school bus will be here soon!" she exclaimed excitedly. "I don't wanna be late for my first day of school!"

"Don't worry, don't worry," her father assured her. "You won't be late. We've still got lots of time before the bus gets here."

"I'm all ready for school, Daddy!" she told him proudly. "I have crayons and erasers and books and I have an apple for my teacher!"

"Sounds to me like you're ready," he told her, zippering the rest of her book bag up. He then picked up his daughter and lifted her up and over his head and like a bird, soon she was flying.

The little girl then caught sight of a woman striding toward them.

"Mommy, look! I'm flying! See, Mommy?"

"Yes, I can see" she answered, smiling broadly. When the girl's father lowered his daughter back to the ground, the woman walked up to him, wrapped her arms around him and the two embraced with a kiss.

"Big day, today," she proclaimed, holding her husband close.

"Sure is," he replied, holding her close. "She's all ready for school."

"Question is…am I?" she asked him. She stared down at her daughter for a moment, and explained, "She's getting to be so big. Already she's starting preschool today."

"It'll be fine," said her husband encouragingly. "She's growing up, but we'll be there with her."

"Every step of the way," he heard his wife say.

"Can we go outside and wait for the bus?" the girl asked, tugging on her mother's hand. "Please, pleeeeease?"

Her parents exchanged looks and chuckled.

"Sure we can," said her father.

As the three stepped into the elevator and began their rise to the aboveground world, Patrick felt that feeling bubbling inside him again. Ever since he'd left his apartment and heard that voice – a voice bursting with joy, excitement, fun and curiosity – he'd felt it returning. In a way, that sense of loneliness that had just recently taken hold of him seemed more prevalent than it had been previously.

But like every other time, he couldn't quite put his finger on why he was experiencing this at all. What reason was there to feel lonely? He was a teacher and the librarian at a wonderful school, he taught a great class, his students were good kids, he got along with the other staff members…so why was there still a hint of loneliness lurking inside him?

Why?

He just didn't know.

Rather than stand there and ponder about it, he cleared his mind of it and sauntered down the now quiet hallway towards the elevator.

In about ten minutes, Patrick had arrived at the school with still five minutes to spare. He glimpsed over at the large, white building that was Chelsea High and couldn't help wondering again why he'd begun feeling so strangely? He hadn't recalled his life's agenda consisting of feeling odd and unexplainable emotions.

Like before, all he could do was shake it off and focus on the present.

And right then, he had a class to teach.

So he strolled up to the school, his mind now focused on ensuring that he made the best out of that day. For him, each day served as a new opportunity to learn, grow and improve on the previous day, and to strive to be the best possible educator he could.

He was almost at the entrance doors when he heard the distinctive sound of approaching footsteps. Turning, he saw a young woman who looked about eighteen also heading towards the school. At least, Patrick thought she looked about eighteen – she certainly looked like any of the other twelfth graders at the school. She could have been older, but could easily blend in with the rest of the older students of Chelsea High. Her eyes were dropped and from what he could tell, she wore an expression on her face that was a blend of both worry and intense concentration. She had shoulder-length brown hair that was tied back in a practical ponytail, and her eyes were a chestnut brown. She wore a short-sleeved black-and-white plaid shirt, jeans, black flats, and carried a grey-and-black striped shoulder bag. Draped around her neck was a white, cotton scarf.

Patrick noticed the woman shifting her gaze fleetingly in his direction. Her eyes remained on him only momentarily though, and she then continued on towards the front doors, moving in long, purposeful strides. He hadn't the slightest clue as to who she was but it seemed to him that she was a woman on a mission.

When he got inside, Patrick quickly dug into his pocket and pulled out his comm. Scrolling through his list of reminders, he saw that he had an appointment with Dr. Shaw the following evening for his yearly physical. He took that time to open a new page, and add a 7:00pm check-up for Earnest that Friday night with Dr. Shellen.

That was when he heard voices coming from the office of Director Ms. Simmons.

"A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Norm," he heard her saying. "Glad you could make it today. I finished reading through your resume, and while we do have five other applicants trying for this position, I believe in giving all who're interested an equal chance. So it says here that you're twenty-four, possess a Bachelor of Education of Computer Technology and are hoping to join our staff of teachers?"

"Yes, ma'am," Ms. Norm answered, her voice quiet and suggesting a hint of nervousness. "I…I've wanted a job in teaching as long as I can remember. I was one of those kids growing up who really liked school and I spent so much time on computers. There was just something about computers and learning and teaching that made me feel…like I was capable of achieving anything. Growing up, I couldn't see myself as being anything other than a teacher. I love helping and learning and…and really challenging myself."

Patrick hadn't expected that. Here, he'd thought she looked no older then the twelfth graders there at the school but really…she could soon possibly be landing a job as a teacher. How wrong he'd been!

Seeing the woman sitting there in the office, it brought him back to the time when he'd been sitting in the very same seat across from Ms. Simmons. How could he forget how nervous, yet hopeful he'd felt while being in that immaculate room that belonged to the one woman who would decide if he was to become a teacher there?

He wondered if this latest applicant – Ms. Norm – would have luck on her side and be given the job as the newest Education of Computer Technology teacher. But Ms. Simmons had mentioned five others who were also interested in obtaining this teaching position.

It was clear there was some competition.

As to who would become Chelsea High's newest teacher, that decision would lie in the hands of Ms. Simmons alone.

Patrick tucked his comm back in his pocket and started walking towards the stairs that would bring him up to the third floor and to his classroom. When he was just a few steps away from entering the classroom that had become his own, he flashed back to the image of Ms. Simmons and Ms. Norm. Anyone could have plainly heard from her voice how badly she wanted this job. He didn't know anything about who the other applicants were and what their stories held, but he found himself wanting it to work out for the young woman.

After all, he too knew what it was like to sit in the office of the person who was either going to offer you the job…or send you on your way.

Good luck, thought Patrick, and stepped into his classroom.