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unfolded73 · 5 years ago

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How Do We Get Back (9/16) - schitt’s creek ff

Summary: In a literal alternate universe where the Roses escaped financial ruin, David and Patrick struggle with loneliness and a sense that something isn’t right. A chance meeting in New York and a terrible tragedy drive them to question whether the timeline they are on is the right one.

Rated explicit. This chapter 4k words. (ao3)

This chapter is a sad one, but hang in there... (putting everything below the cut due to spoilers in the first few lines)

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Chapter 9

The sun was shining the first morning David woke up into a world without his sister in it.

He might’ve expected it to hit him afresh as he surfaced from fitful sleep, the fact that his sister was dead. But it had suffused his sleep, invaded his dreams — there was no escaping the knowledge even in his subconscious. As he awoke, he mostly just felt numb and hungover from crying.

David had rehearsed this kind of thing in his head a hundred times. All the times that Alexis had come back from a long trip abroad with a story about fleeing the Yakuza or being held captive by a sultan, David had played out in his mind a vivid scenario in which Alexis didn’t escape and one of them got a middle-of-the-night phone call with terrible news. He told himself that these morbid fantasies were his way of preparing for the worst. That allowing himself to imagine all of it — how he would behave, what his parents would do, what kind of details would need to be arranged — was a mental insurance policy against the thing actually happening.

None of that was true. It hadn’t prepared him in the slightest.

David emerged from his bedroom and wandered downstairs, keeping his eyes averted from the family portrait in the great hall. He found his father in the kitchen, staring out the window as his assistant, Mallory, sat implacably at the kitchen island and ticked items off of a checklist. He marveled that his father’s ever-capable assistant had come prepared with a checklist of funeral preparations.

“Do you want to go with me to select the casket?” Mallory asked gently.

Johnny stirred himself, looking over at her as if he was trying to parse her question. David suspected he hadn’t slept at all. “You can pick it. It doesn’t really matter what her casket looks like.”

“Mom might care what it looks like,” David said, his voice raspy.

“Your mother isn’t in any state to go casket shopping,” Johnny said.

David threw his hands up. “What, are you just letting her overdose on sleeping pills? Are we going to have two funerals this week?”

“No, I’m not letting her…” Johnny shouted, but quickly ran out of steam. “I don’t think she’ll be ready to leave the house today, that’s all.”

“I’ll go with you to pick out the casket,” David said to Mallory before he went back upstairs to check on his mother.

He expected to find her in bed but Moira was up, sitting at her dressing table and staring at herself in the mirror. David lurked in the doorway for a moment, unsure if he should go in. She had on no makeup, and she didn’t like people to see her with no makeup, even her son. His mother looked old, David thought for the first time in his life.

“Hi, Mom.”

Moira didn’t turn. “Oh, David. John said you were here.” Her voice was low and quiet, lacking its usual expressiveness.

David walked into the room and sat down on the chest at the foot of his parents’ bed. He’d sat here so many times as a child, watching his mother modeling a new piece of couture or trying out a new wig. In a relatively lonely childhood, those were among his fondest memories.

“We’ll need to pick something to dress her in,” Moira said. “I was thinking about that Stella McCartney gown that she wore last Christmas.”

David imagined Alexis’ dead body being bent and stretched like an oversized Barbie to get it into that dress, and suddenly he tasted bile in the back of his throat.

“Sure,” he said.

“I mean, is that what Alexis would have wanted, do you think?”

“Pretty sure what Alexis would have wanted is to not be dead,” David shot back, almost with the hope that it would get a negative reaction from his mother. Tears. Screaming. Something.

Moira didn’t even blink.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that. Alexis loved that dress; it’s a good choice.”

“I can’t remember the last time I told her I loved her. My own daughter,” Moira said, her voice finally breaking on the last word.

“I’m sure she knew,” he said, although he was sure of nothing of the sort. “We aren’t really a family who says that to each other.”

“And we should have taken better care of her. Not let her jet off to anywhere and everywhere like we did.”

“She was a grown woman; I’m not sure what you could have done to stop her.” For that matter, before she was a grown woman, when she was twelve and ended up in Hong Kong, for example, he wasn’t sure anyone could have ever stopped Alexis from going where she wanted to go when she wanted to go there.

Maybe if she’d been raised in a warm and loving home, and not in a place where the nursery was in a separate wing of the house, maybe then she’d have stayed home more. Maybe then she’d still be alive. Then he closed the door on those thoughts. There would be time later to blame his parents for this. Right now, he needed to be supportive.

“Mallory wants someone to go with her to pick the casket. Are you all right with me doing it?” he asked his mother.

Moira nodded. “I’m sure you’ll pick something tasteful.” She picked up a bottle of foundation and shook it, then set it back down, staring into space.

“I’ll check in on you when I get back, okay?” David said. Moira didn’t respond.

David wasn’t prepared for how heavy the grief would be, how it would weigh him down like a yoke on his shoulders, how stupid and yet somehow crucial all the things about planning the funeral would feel. How he would cry so hard sometimes that he made himself throw up, and other times he’d be so numb that he wasn’t sure he’d ever feel true feelings again. His parents were like strangers to him, like shells of their former selves ghosting around the house, and it made him want to smash things and scream and make them acknowledge that all of this was real. Make them take care of him, instead of the other way around.

The night before the funeral, David went to bed early, a part of him hoping he could just sleep through all of it. Sleep until the grief was a little bit lighter and easier to carry around. When his phone started to ring, it took all of his energy to pick it up and see who was calling.

Patrick.

“Hello?��

“David, it’s Patrick.” After a brief pause, he continued, “From—”

“I haven’t forgotten you,” David blurted out.

“Listen, I saw the news online. I’m so sorry about Alexis.”

Fresh tears filled David’s eyes, and he closed them. “Thanks.”

“I know I don’t have any right to… call you or whatever, but I wanted you to know that if there’s anything at all I can do…”

David wiped at one cheek. “I appreciate that. There’s nothing.”

“Is there a service? If you’d be willing, I’d like to come to the service. But only if—”

“You don’t have to do that.” Patrick was just a hookup, David told himself, there was no reason for him to offer to do something like come to his sister’s funeral.

“I know I don’t have to, but…” He sighed. “Listen, if me being there would only burden you, then I’ll stay away. But if you think it would help even the tiniest bit, then I’ll be on the next plane.”

David allowed himself to imagine it. Patrick; solid Patrick who could be relied on to make tea in a time of crisis, being here. Standing with him at the service. Holding his hand, maybe. Suddenly David wanted that fiercely.

“It would help,” he managed to choke out.

“Then I’m going to book a flight.”

“No, you must have work or something—”

“Let me worry about that. When and where is the service?” Patrick asked.

David gave him the information, and at the end of the recitation couldn’t help asking, “Are you sure?”

“I’m buying the plane ticket as we speak,” Patrick said. “I’ll basically need to leave for the airport in…” he paused, “three hours and drive through the night so that I can get the 6:30 a.m. flight out of Toronto, but I can do that.”

“Patrick… thank you.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, David.”

~*~

The church was surrounded by paparazzi, and Patrick was late, and there was a security guard manning the door. But when Patrick gave his name to the guard, he was allowed in and told to take a seat in the back. He shook his head, thinking there was something appropriate about the fact that Alexis Rose’s funeral had an exclusive guest list. Craning his neck, he could just make out David’s black hair at the front of the church.

A priest who even Patrick could tell had never met Alexis was speaking, expressing vague platitudes that probably came out of the manual on funerals for people who die tragically before their time. After that, some women stood up and sang a song that seemed inappropriate as a memorial to a dead person. An aunt got up and told a sepia-toned story about Alexis as a little girl. Then David stood up and approached the lectern. Patrick drank in the sight of him, looking pale and exhausted, clutching a journal against his chest. He hadn’t expected David to be delivering a eulogy. Perhaps his parents didn’t have the strength to do it, and it had fallen to David as the only other close family member.

David cleared his throat and opened his journal and began to speak. “When I first started planning what I was going to say today, I thought about how I would describe Alexis. That she always knew exactly who she was. That she was fearless. That she was unfailingly optimistic about everything. That she had an unquenchable lust for life. But I don’t know if any of that is true.

“The truth is that Alexis could be shallow and self-involved. She forgot to pay attention to the feelings of the people around her. She made bad decisions. She also could be child-like, and enthusiastic, and she knew how to cut right through my bullshit. She was a complicated person who I didn’t always like very much, but who I did… who I did love.

“The truth is also that Alexis was lonely. The truth is she had to grow up way too fast. The truth is that Alexis was always jetting all over the world because she was chasing something that I don’t think she ever found in life: actual joy.

“I had a dream last night that Alexis and I were sharing a tiny little bedroom. Which is pretty funny, because Alexis and I never shared a room in our lives. We would have despised sharing a room, because she was such a slob…” He seemed to choke up at this, and paused for a few seconds to collect himself before continuing. “But the thing is, in this dream she was happy in a way I never really saw her in life. She was content. I hope that wherever my sister is, she’s found that contentment.”

David walked away from the podium and retook his seat, and Patrick could feel the stunned hush of a crowd who hadn’t expected anyone to say anything like that. Nothing that raw and honest. The priest also seemed surprised as he stood up and welcomed the next speaker, one of Alexis’ friends who seemed more interested in visibly crying in front of a crowd than in saying anything meaningful about Alexis. Patrick understood why David had said his sister was lonely if this was what her friends were like.

When the service was over, Patrick went outside to sit on a bench and wait. He wasn’t sure what to do now — he wanted to go to David and be near him to provide any support he could, but he also recognized that as a selfish impulse. David had his parents to worry about, he didn’t need the guy he’d gone to bed with two months ago hanging around. Suddenly, the fact that Patrick had shelled out hundreds of dollars for a last-minute plane ticket and a rental car struck him as insanity.

“You came.”

Patrick looked up from the paving stones he’d been staring at to see David, sunlight haloing his hair. Standing up, Patrick tried to offer a supportive smile. “I said I would.”

David shrugged. “People don’t necessarily do what they say they’ll do.”

“I do.” Patrick couldn’t take his eyes off of David. After two months, seeing him felt like seeing a mirage.

“So, I have to go to the gravesite now for the burial, which is just family,” David said, indicating a waiting limousine.

“Oh. Right, of course.”

“But people will be coming to the house afterwards. Can you come there? I think I sent you the address before.”

Patrick nodded, relieved. “I’ll be there. David, I’m so, so sorry.”

The corner of David’s mouth turned down, and he shrugged one shoulder. “I’ll see you later.”

Uncertain what to do, Patrick got in his rental car and drove to a nearby McDonald’s. The past twelve hours of travel had screwed up the rhythms of mealtimes, and other than a bagel at the airport and a meager bag of pretzels, he hadn’t eaten anything all day. Sitting down with his tray, he stared at his unappetizing burger and wondered why he’d ordered it. He ate a fry, eyes trained on the acrylic tabletop.

When he figured that enough time had gone by, Patrick got back in the car and drove to David’s parents’ house. The gate was imposing enough (where again he had to give his name to be admitted), but the mansion that was revealed as he drove up the long driveway was even more so. He turned his car key over to a valet, wondering what it had been like, growing up in a place like this. Another piece of the David Rose puzzle slotted into place.

The house was filled with mourners, drinks and small plates of food in hand, talking in hushed tones. Patrick stood in the middle of it and stared up at the family portrait that dominated the great hall, trying to see the man he cared about in the haughty version of David Rose in the painting.

After some wandering, Patrick finally found David in the kitchen, giving instructions to the caterers.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” David said, his eyes still flitting around the room, his focus on oversight of the food.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“No. I’m glad you’re here.”

An older woman came into the kitchen and picked up one of the trays of finger sandwiches to carry back out to the guests.

“Adelina, you don’t work here anymore; you don’t have to do that.”

“I have to do something,” she said. “And you don’t get to tell me what to do, mijo.”

David rolled his eyes. “Fine. Just don’t stay on your feet too long, please.”

Adelina muttered something in Spanish and left the room with her tray.

“She practically raised us,” David explained. “Can we go somewhere and talk?”

“Of course,” Patrick replied, following David through a back door of the kitchen up some utility stairs to the upper floor of the house. David led them into a tastefully-decorated bedroom that was about half the size of the house Patrick had grown up in.

“Is this your childhood bedroom?” he asked.

“Yeah,” David said, sitting on the bed. “Listen, I’m sorry for the way I behaved when you left New York—”

“Please don’t worry about that now.” Patrick sat at David’s side. “I don’t want you to have to think about that now.”

“No, I was an asshole,” David said. “We hadn’t made any plans or promises, it’s not like you were—”

“Believe me, David, I wanted to stay.” Patrick laughed uncomfortably and looked down at his hands. “Two nights with you and I was…” He stopped, unable to admit the way he’d been feeling. The way he was still feeling. “I’ve thought about you a lot, the last two months.”

David cleared his throat. “I can’t help but notice you aren’t wearing your wedding ring.”

“I told Rachel everything the day I got back. We’re separated.”

“Oh. Well, that must be very hard.”

“It is, but it’s also…” Patrick clutched his hands together, worrying the webbing of skin between his thumb and forefinger. “I’ve also never felt more free. I came out to my parents and the world didn’t end. So even if I never saw you again, I would have been forever grateful to you for being the instrument of this change in my life. And then I saw what happened to Alexis, and I just… I had to call, even if you wanted nothing to do with me.”

David looked up at the ceiling like he was trying not to cry. “I’ve thought about you a lot these last two months, too,” he whispered, and then David was leaning in and his mouth was on Patrick’s, insistent and everything Patrick had been dreaming about.

Except David had just lost his sister, and as soon as Patrick gained some control of himself, he pulled away. “David, is now really the right—”

“I just need to… not think about being sad for a while, okay? Can I… can I just have a few minutes where I’m not thinking about what happened?”

Patrick put his hand on David’s cheek and nodded his head. “Of course. Of course you can have that.”

Their mouths met in a frantic press, teeth clacking together as they both tried to deepen the kiss. David’s hand was already unbuttoning the buttons of Patrick’s shirt, trembling, and Patrick did his best to shrug out of his suit jacket while their mouths were still fused together.

When he brought his hands up to resume caressing David’s face, Patrick’s fingers came away wet, and he broke the kiss again. “David—”

“It’s fine, I’m fine,” David said, but he clearly wasn’t. His hands were shaking and the tears were starting to flow more freely now, so Patrick pulled the other man into his arms. That made the dam break, and the sound of pure grief that tore from David’s throat in that moment shattered Patrick’s heart.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you. I’ve got you,” Patrick murmured, holding David as he sobbed into Patrick’s shoulder.

He wasn’t sure how long they stayed that way, David’s tears soaking into Patrick’s shirt as Patrick rocked him gently and murmured quiet words into David’s hair. He wasn’t even sure what he said. Patrick supposed this was why he had come, although he couldn’t have expected David would be willing to rely on him as a shoulder to cry on. And yet somehow Patrick felt like he had known he was needed here, even as all reason and logic had said that it was a mistake to come.

When David’s tears dried up, when he finally let go of his death grip around Patrick’s torso, Patrick reached out to run his thumbs under David’s eyes. “Do you need to go back to the people downstairs?”

David shook his head. “I’m not going back out there.”

“Do you want to try to get some sleep? Or do you want me to go get you some food?”

“Sleep,” David said. “If you’ll… stay?”

“Of course I will.”

~*~

Patrick woke up to the sound of water running in the bathroom, and then David emerged, walking over and getting back into bed.

“What time is it?” Patrick asked.

“1:15.”

Patrick rubbed his face, trying to orient himself in space and time. Between his complete lack of sleep the night before and falling asleep in the early evening with David, he felt hazy and disoriented. “Are you okay?” Patrick asked.

“Just a nightmare about Alexis. I’m getting used to them.”

Patrick reached out and touched David’s back, feeling the way sweat had soaked through his t-shirt. “It might feel better to change your shirt.”

He could just make out David nodding in the dim light before he got up and went over to a large armoire, pulling off his shirt. Patrick watched as David took everything off and put on a fresh shirt and underwear before coming back to bed.

“I keep seeing her drowning in my dreams,” David sighed, getting back under the covers. Patrick put an arm around him and David put his head down on Patrick’s chest, his arm draped across Patrick’s midsection and their legs tangling together. It was nice. It was scary, how nice it was. How well they seemed to fit together, like they’d been sharing a bed for ages.

“And I don’t know what to do now that the funeral is over,” David continued. “It was easier when I had a list of things to take care of. Now it just seems like an endless amount of time stretching out in front of me with nothing in it but grief.”

“Maybe focusing on your gallery will help?”

David shook his head, his hair brushing against Patrick’s nose. “I’m going to close the gallery.”

“Why?”

“Because according to my father’s business manager it’s hemorrhaging money, and the family can’t really afford to keep it open any more.”

“David, I’m sorry.” He tightened his grip on David’s shoulder. “Maybe I can help? I can look at the books?”

“That’s a very kind offer, but even I can understand that if I don’t sell any art, it doesn’t make financial sense to keep the gallery.”

“You don’t sell any art?”

“Not lately. And to be honest, since Alexis died I don’t know if I even care anymore. For that matter, I don’t care if I even stay in New York. Maybe I’ll sell the apartment too and make a fresh start somewhere else.”

Patrick pressed a kiss against the top of David’s head. “Okay, David, I don’t want to second guess you here, but I don’t know if it’s a good idea to make these kinds of huge decisions when you’re grieving the loss of someone close to you.”

David’s breath hitched, and Patrick feared he might have triggered another crying jag, but when David spoke, his voice was even. “Okay, maybe I’ll hold off on selling the apartment. But… I need a change of scenery. I need to get away from everything that brings back memories of my sister, at least for a little while.”

“Come home with me,” Patrick said, and then his mouth dropped open with shock that those words had come out of his mouth.

David raised his head from Patrick’s shoulder and looked at him. “Come home with you?”

“No, I mean… if you’re looking for a change of scenery you could… I just got a new apartment and you’re welcome to stay with me for a few days if you need to.” He chuckled nervously, wishing David’s leg wasn’t pinning him down because he felt a sudden need to put some space between them. “There’s nowhere less like New York than my hometown.”

David moved his head around for a second before saying, “Okay.”

“You actually want to come stay at my place? Because I should probably warn you, the restaurants where I live leave a lot to be desired.”

Meeting his eyes, David said, “I wouldn’t be going with you for the night life.”

Patrick kissed him then, just a gentle peck on the lips, but it felt significant. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Chapter 10

#schitt's creek #schitt's creek ff #david x patrick #david x patrick ff #david x patrick fic #hdwgb fic #my fic

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