All Hail the Heartbreaker
Title: All Hail The Heartbreaker
Author: blurred_affairs
Prompt: [Glitter Trash] Cigarettes, Street Lights, Lipstick
Rating: PG-13 [for swearing]
Summary: Patrick comes to a sad realization.
Author's Note: Title and the parts of Patrick’s speech in italics at the end is from The Spill Canvas
You were stunned. You didn’t expect to come home from a night out and find the person, who had pledged to spend the rest of his life with you, faithfully at that, with someone else in your bed, lipstick smeared across his face.
He started to apologize as you walked out, but really, you didn’t want to hear it. Anyone can say they’re sorry after the fact and expect to be forgiven. The real challenge is having the temptation, the opportunity, and turning it down.
“Hey.” Pete said, tucking his hands in his jeans.
You just glanced at him, giving a small nod of recognition.
“Is that a cigarette?”
You chuckled quietly to yourself, blowing the smoke out your nose. “Looks like it.”
“But you don’t smoke.”
“People do crazy things when there’s a bloody gaping hole in their chest where a heart used to reside.” You stubbed the end out under the toe of your shoe.
“Patrick…I’m so sorry.”
“I don’t want to fucking hear it, Pete. You’ve always been making promises you can’t keep. I’m tired of being your toy. I’m tired of being second best. You’ve broken me so many times, there’s not much left for you here.”
Pete sat next to you, the streetlight casting a sheen on his dark hair, making it almost look like a halo. You choked back a laugh/sob at the irony. He played with his hands, picking at the calluses years of playing had left on his fingertips. He began to open his mouth again, but you held up a hand and he stopped.
“Pete. I’ve never, ever felt this way about anyone before.” You reached out a hand and touched his face. “Your lips, your eyelashes, your skin,” you smiled sadly at him. “Those are the parts of your body that cause my comatose to begin.”
Pete placed his hand on top of yours and you sighed. “I can’t sleep, because my dreams are infected with words you used to say.”
Tears began to slide down Pete’s face, and you tried as hard as you could, but there was nothing left for him in you.
“I’ve been the giver, and you’ve been the taker, because, really, there’s nothing else I do well.” You were on your knees in front of him, and he looked up through those beautiful lashes, glistening with his tears.
“But I’m down on my knees, and I proclaim, all hail the heartbreaker.”
Pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, you left him there, the halo on his dark hair and the tears in his sad eyes burning into you.
Author: blurred_affairs
Prompt: [Glitter Trash] Cigarettes, Street Lights, Lipstick
Rating: PG-13 [for swearing]
Summary: Patrick comes to a sad realization.
Author's Note: Title and the parts of Patrick’s speech in italics at the end is from The Spill Canvas
You were stunned. You didn’t expect to come home from a night out and find the person, who had pledged to spend the rest of his life with you, faithfully at that, with someone else in your bed, lipstick smeared across his face.
He started to apologize as you walked out, but really, you didn’t want to hear it. Anyone can say they’re sorry after the fact and expect to be forgiven. The real challenge is having the temptation, the opportunity, and turning it down.
“Hey.” Pete said, tucking his hands in his jeans.
You just glanced at him, giving a small nod of recognition.
“Is that a cigarette?”
You chuckled quietly to yourself, blowing the smoke out your nose. “Looks like it.”
“But you don’t smoke.”
“People do crazy things when there’s a bloody gaping hole in their chest where a heart used to reside.” You stubbed the end out under the toe of your shoe.
“Patrick…I’m so sorry.”
“I don’t want to fucking hear it, Pete. You’ve always been making promises you can’t keep. I’m tired of being your toy. I’m tired of being second best. You’ve broken me so many times, there’s not much left for you here.”
Pete sat next to you, the streetlight casting a sheen on his dark hair, making it almost look like a halo. You choked back a laugh/sob at the irony. He played with his hands, picking at the calluses years of playing had left on his fingertips. He began to open his mouth again, but you held up a hand and he stopped.
“Pete. I’ve never, ever felt this way about anyone before.” You reached out a hand and touched his face. “Your lips, your eyelashes, your skin,” you smiled sadly at him. “Those are the parts of your body that cause my comatose to begin.”
Pete placed his hand on top of yours and you sighed. “I can’t sleep, because my dreams are infected with words you used to say.”
Tears began to slide down Pete’s face, and you tried as hard as you could, but there was nothing left for him in you.
“I’ve been the giver, and you’ve been the taker, because, really, there’s nothing else I do well.” You were on your knees in front of him, and he looked up through those beautiful lashes, glistening with his tears.
“But I’m down on my knees, and I proclaim, all hail the heartbreaker.”
Pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, you left him there, the halo on his dark hair and the tears in his sad eyes burning into you.