Patrick lay looking up at the ceiling of his room at the Modesto Clarion, listening to Dom snoring gently beside him. It was quite a soothing sound, but not soothing enough to have lulled him to sleep.

He wished he could go to sleep himself, rather than lying here, reflecting on the mess that awaited him back in San Francisco. People sometimes said making lists of all the things that pre-occupied you and prevented you from sleeping helped calm your mind and the process itself allowed sleep to come. He wasn't getting up to make list though. He knew his fucking list off-by-heart. It was just a set of names. All the people that he had dragged into his epically humiliating meltdown. The people he should apologize to.

And an addendum to Kevin's name would also be the remorse Patrick felt for having spoken to him on the stoop, at the end. Though he couldn't fully regret that. It was better to have been honest, to have put himself out there, otherwise he would forever wonder if things might have been different. No one could say he hadn't tried. If he was lucky Kevin might pretend to have misunderstood, to save them both embarrassment, and pass it off as the sentimental drunken ramblings of one friend to another. Kevin probably wanted to avoid the issue altogether, and Patrick would be more than happy never to bring it up again.

He probably needed to apologize to Richie though, and Brady. That would be fun. Had he really called Brady a 'ginger' in public? And mocked the fact that Richie had found his soulmate? Christ.

Fortunately Agustin and Dom were...just amazing. They had shown the true colors of their friendship. Mocking him gently, affectionately, the next day, bringing him back into the fold as if he'd never aired their dirty laundry in public. And most wonderful of all, never mentioning Kevin once.

Even Doris had come through, letting him tag along on this so very personal journey for her. She was gracious about it, making him feel welcome, as if it were normal to attend your friend's friend's father's funeral. She was a sweetheart. A ball-buster, but a sweetheart.

He had such good people in his life, so he knew he was going to be okay. It would take a bit of time, but he would get through this.

Distance from San Francisco for a few days was priceless. To be able to take some time away from his life and let the awfulness of the past few weeks sink in without having to face Kevin was the best thing for him.

He needed some time to wallow. To let himself be miserable and sad, to accept that life felt pretty crappy, and a funeral 'getaway' was ideal. No need to pretend to be a fun gay out here in Modesto. Not that he hadn't actually had fun. Strangely enough, this afternoon in the pool with Dom and Doris, while being a little melancholy as they reflected on failed teenage sexual experiences, had also been pretty uplifting. He hadn't had a genuine laugh like that in a while. The whole mood of the day had been one of reflection, as they shared recollections of lonelier times in the past and confessed their dark family secrets and failures, yet... rather than depressing him further, somehow Patrick just felt closer to them as the day progressed, more connected to both of them, and in the telling of their stories they'd all been able to find small nuggets of humor. So Patrick could honestly say that this was one of the most satisfying days he'd had in a long time. Poor Doris probably wouldn't agree, as she had had the trauma of facing her father's body in the church, laid out in his coffin for a final viewing before the funeral tomorrow. But Dom told Patrick that she had handled it well. She was such a trooper. Her family was a mess and she dreaded having to face them at the funeral tomorrow, but instead of looking for a shoulder to cry on, she was dragging them on to a dance floor at the only gay bar in town, dancing her heart out to Walking On Sunshine.

Patrick hoped she was asleep now. They had all been tired after their emotionally exhausting day so with any luck she was passed out now much as Dom was, temporarily oblivious to the difficult day ahead.

Why hadn't she wanted Malik with her? She was so anxious and scared of getting too close. Why were they all so bad at intimacy? Didn't they all crave it? Yet somehow they had sabotaged it in each of their lives.

Though that wasn't fair to Dom.

He had flung himself into meaningless hook ups for years after being burnt by that meth-head douche-bag, and only recently dared to try a relationship again with Lin, and he'd wanted more than Lin was willing to give. He'd actually been pretty brave to walk away from that experience. Though again, Dom had had real issues with Lin offering him help. As if admitting he needed it was a sign of weakness.

And Agustin had fucked up with Frank. Royally. Frank had been so supportive and long-suffering of Agustin's artistic moods and Agustin had repaid him by betraying him and pushing him away every time Frank tried to reach out to him. Frank had just wanted Agustin, but Agustin didn't like to be wanted that way. Maybe that was why Eddie was so good for him now? Making Agustin do the work? Making Agustin put himself out there and forcing himself be vulnerable for a change.

But Malik was a really good guy. What threatened Doris so much about him? God, he would love to have a guy that was devoted to him, put up with him, wanted to be with him and chased him. Wasn't that the dream? Was she scared she wasn't going to be enough? Patrick could understand that. If someone did ever want him that badly, it would be a pretty tall order to live up to. Maybe that was it. She wasn't letting herself get too close so she wouldn't hurt when he decided she wasn't worth the effort. Or maybe she was just showing the worst of herself now so he could know the bad and the good, and if he stuck around then she knew it was the real thing.

God, the convoluted games people played with each other as they tried to live out their fantasies and work out their issues at the same time.

And his own intimacy issues? Richie had been an opportunity which he'd blown. Had he deliberately sabotaged it because it was proving more difficult to be accepting and free-spirited than he'd bargained for? Because it made him feel ashamed of his own stereotypical measures of success and worth?

That would minimize Kevin though, make him just a pawn, and the way he felt now it was pretty fucking obvious Kevin had been more than a means of escaping from Richie. Or if he had been, Patrick was now being suitably punished because the cure had been a hell of a lot more painful than the disease.

There were so many layers to his grief. He had to face up to his own behavior which had been shocking. Appalling. And he had to face the loss of Kevin, which was so painful he had to physically catch his breath when he thought about it. When he thought about Kevin moving to Seattle.

He could try to tell himself how much better off he was without Kevin in his life. Without the lies and the stress, but now, with all the pretenses gone, he was left with the truth that Kevin had been so much more than a man he just fucked who had a boyfriend. He was the man Patrick had been the most honest version of himself with. The man who understood him and liked him, geekiness and all. He'd never been appalled at Patrick's behavior, never judged him when he'd shown his bitchy gossipy side, his immature gawky side, his insecurities, his sexual hangups...Kevin had seemed to like and want every part of him.

And Patrick had felt the same way. He admired his confidence. He was blown away by his intelligence and abilities at designing and engineering video games. He was fascinated by the glimpses of sweetness and silliness that he let Patrick see. The awkward vulnerability that he had sometimes shown. And the sex...well. Kevin loved everything about sex, and had pulled Patrick willingly into a sensual world where he had discovered so much about himself. And he was gorgeous. Maybe that was shallow, but...he could have spent a whole lifetime worshiping that body.

So he had to accept the fact that he needed to grieve.

And not just about the loss of Kevin, but also the loss of Richie. He'd given up one for the other, and ended up with neither. Richie would have been the better bet, but...whether it was his gut, or his sex, or his heart...he had felt compelled to follow the path that led to Kevin.

So he was a little wiser. That counted for something right? It hadn't been a waste. And he'd done the right thing at the end. He'd taking a slightly convoluted route, but in the end, he'd done the right thing.

Tomorrow he would stand by Doris and support her at the funeral, as a good friend should, and then the next day he would go to work, face Kevin, apologize for his melt-down and show him they could be friends for as long as Kevin was in California. No more bitterness, no more anger or misplaced rage.

His loneliness and sadness were his own cross to bear. Not Kevin's. Not anyone else's. He had to stop leaning on other and start owning his own feelings.

So, he had to get some fucking sleep tonight, and tomorrow would be a new day.

Patrick stood with the other mourners at the cemetery, listening to Doris' Aunt Sarah painting a poignant, loving picture of a man who adored his daughter beyond all else. A man who supported her, was her biggest cheerleader, and despite his own loneliness and loss, gave her his blessing to follow her dreams to San Francisco.

Patrick had never felt lonelier in his life.

His resolutions to stand tall and strong, made the night before, seemed so naive as he thought about what loss really felt like. To know that something was really over, truly gone. With no hope. There was no peace in that. Not yet anyway. Maybe with time, but now, there was only raw grief. Memories were a pale substitute for the real thing. For having the person you wanted to be with actually be by your side.

The poem Aunt Sarah had chosen was by Walt Whitman. Of course. The only poet Patrick actually knew anything about. A lonely man, melancholy, philosophical...obsessed with how time was so fleeting and yet also endless and limitless.

Fuck. Contemplating an endless future without Kevin was fucking unbearable. Shit...now was not the time to lose it. He tried to hold the tears back. But the harder he tried, the more he was feeling overwhelmed.

'This is thy hour O Soul, thy free flight into the wordless' She started reading.

Loneliness. Everything was about being alone. He didn't want to fly freely into the wordless. Fly alone. Patrick sobbed. He fucking sobbed out loud. Where was this coming from?

'Away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson done,'

He couldn't bear the day to be erased. He couldn't bear to believe that the lesson was done and he would have no more of the joy, of the ecstasy, of the simple yet so fucking complicated pleasure of being with someone that you couldn't get enough of. His heart was literally breaking, when he thought it couldn't have broken anymore. Oh god, why now? In front of everyone. Where he had nowhere to hide. Where the agony and the grief and all the fucking misery was just overflowing and he couldn't hold it back. It was just coming out in these huge ugly sobs.

'Thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing, pondering the themes thou loves best...'

Christ, she had to fucking stop. She was literally killing him. He didn't want to enter this night. He wasn't ready for the day to be over, to have to emerge through the darkness, because it was going to be such hell to go through it. Patrick hugged himself tight as he stood away from the crowd, and let the feelings wash through him. What good was resisting? He was a fucking wreck, and she had exposed him with her soft words of finality and acceptance.

He had wanted to stop leaning on others, and now there were no others to lean on. Dom was there for Doris, as he should be, and he was literally completely alone. And it was terrifying.

After what seemed like en eternity, the eulogy finally ended, and as the casket was being lowered into the ground, Patrick began to feel the first stirrings of calm that came after the storm. Why did it have to be like that? Why was the price of peace so fucking high? But he had paid it, and as the mourners gathered around Doris to wish her their condolences, Patrick was slowly piecing himself together again. Dom walked up to him and wordlessly pulled Patrick into his arms. As Patrick gratefully accepted the comfort and clung onto Dom, he knew that he had made it through and that he had experienced the worst of it. Not that the next few weeks would be easy, but he had said his goodbye, accepted that a piece of his life was over, and he was going to be able to face what was to come with a little more strength.

Dom let Patrick pull back, but his concerned gaze never left Patrick's face.

'Are you okay buddy?' Dom asked simply. Patrick gave him a grateful, watery smile.

'Yeah. You know me.' Patrick laughed weakly. 'Had to make it 'The Patrick Show'.' he grimaced.

'It's okay to be sad, Paddy.' Dom said quietly.

'Yes. It is.' Patrick agreed, nodding slowly. Dom smiled at him, and then, putting an arm around his shoulders, led Patrick back to the line of cars, where they waited silently, standing close next to each other, for Doris.

So Patrick ended up being 'the weird guy' at the funeral. A little strange, but okay. Doris told him to 'embrace it' so he did. No apologies, no explanations. And at last, he was able to think about something other than his own sad self and the crappy state of his relationships for the first time in weeks. He had let Doris down at the funeral, but he was going to be there for her now. She wanted to get away from the crowd and have a quiet drink, and Patrick was her chosen companion. He was flattered that she found him worthy today. They sat at a bar and Patrick concentrated on her words, as she told him trivial stories about her father. This was her own private eulogy to the man. Sitting, having his favorite drink, in his favorite bar at his favorite golf club.

Patrick's ultimate test had been when his phone vibrated. It had done so a few times already, but he had no messages. He was a fool. He should have removed Kevin's picture from his contact. That was a silly oversight. Simple things like that could be hard to manage over the next few weeks. He'd take care of it later. He didn't want to distract Doris. This was her time. If there was an issue at work, someone else could handle it. If Kevin wanted to rant at him about Saturday and how close he had come to revealing their affair to Jon, well, that could wait too. And if he was just reaching out like a concerned friend...Patrick couldn't handle that right now. That was something he would face tomorrow.

The three friends finally found themselves at another cemetery, unsuccessfully looking for a grave long neglected and overgrown. Dom's father's grave. Patrick and Doris had each let something go today, but Dom felt robbed of his chance to and it was eating him up. He wanted to go back in time and tell his beloved father that he was gay, and maybe that he was happy, and maybe that he understood that it wasn't always easy to be successful at the thing you wanted to be, but that didn't make you a failure. And Patrick wanted to give Dom a gift he couldn't give himself. Closure. The ability to just shout out loud the words you wanted someone to hear one final time, whether they were words of love, or words of forgiveness, of redemption...

So that's how Patrick found himself behind the wheel of Dom's cherished Volvo, driving the three of them out of the cemetery, Dom hanging out of the passenger window shouting out to every grave they passed in the hopes one of them would be his father's that he was gay! And it was spectacular, and freeing and glorious...until they were rammed by the truck that could have so easily killed them, but somehow...didn't.

What a fitting end to the day. Obsessing about the finality of death and the end of passages in your life, only to be find yourself sitting in a sterile bleak hospital corridor, seeing very very clearly that you were actually fucking lucky to be alive.

Shit his arm hurt. And this sling was going to be a fucking pain to get used to. He didn't care about the bruising to his face, though the doctor had warned him that would start throbbing soon and he should be prepared for headaches. He'd been given powerful pills, but had to wait to take them when he got home, because there was a good chance he'd be out like a light and they'd never be able to carry him into the apartment. He had some Advil for now. Funny. that's what Kevin had taken for his headaches. He hoped Kevin didn't get anymore headaches.

And it looked like facing death all day had helped Doris make a decision of her own, because she had called Malik to come and drive them back to the city. And as soon as he'd arrived, she'd reached out to him for comfort, and he'd been perfect. Doris could be vulnerable and he would look after her. It was beautiful. And sad. Dom sat next to Patrick in silence as they let Doris take what she needed from Malik.

The drive back to San Fransisco started silently for them all, but eventually, Doris and Malik began speaking quietly to each other, with Malik asking her questions gently and Doris responding with relief and gratitude for his obvious concern. All her hard edges were temporarily worn away as Malik's big safe car carried them back to the city. And as they neared home, they all seemed to stir a little, as if every mile away from Modesto was helping them leave some of the tragedy and sadness behind. Doris started to laugh a little more, Malik teased her a little, Dom even told some of the funny stories of their trip. Patrick still mostly just looked out of the window, letting himself feel whatever he was feeling, without analyzing it anymore. He was too worn down to think about anything at this point.

He was glad to be home. He wanted to get into his apartment and surround himself with his familiar beloved things, and cocoon himself in bed. He would take the pills so the throbbing in his face and arm would subside, and then he hoped he would sleep and sleep and sleep, and emerge with some new reserves to face the coming days.

They let him off a few feet away from his front door, and he leaned in to kiss Doris goodbye. He'd become so close to her these past couple of days, and for that he was grateful.

Malik's car pulled away and Patrick raised his good arm to salute them goodbye. Well, that had been an interesting couple of...

Patrick faltered as he looked up to see Kevin standing at the bottom of his stoop. Whaaaat? His heart started racing. What had happened? He hadn't answered any of Kevin's calls but he'd intended to communicate with him tomorrow, tell him he couldn't come into work because of the accident...Was he angry about work? About the party? Shit...he looked pretty rough. Had Patrick got him into trouble with Jon? Fuuuuckkk...

'What the fuck's happened?' Kevin asked, before Patrick had a chance to say anything.

'What are you doing here?' Patrick asked, ignoring his question, so bewildered as he got closer.

'Are you alright?' Kevin insisted, looking worried, concerned. Ah fuck.

'Yeah. Yeah. I just..I got into a car accident.' Patrick reassured him. It was almost embarrassing to talk about.

'I called you Patrick. You never picked up' Kevin breathed heavily.

God. Patrick felt a twinge of guilt. Maybe Kevin WAS just worried about him after the melt down on Saturday and was calling out of concern. That's what someone who cared about him would do. Maybe he shouldn't have ignored his calls. But it had felt like the right thing to do. He had to make Kevin understand that he just needed a little time before everything would be okay.

'I know..I'm sorry...' Patrick had started to answer, genuinely ready to be open and honest.

'I've left Jon' Kevin blurted out.

He stared at Patrick. Patrick stared back. He...couldn't...have heard right. He needed to hear that again.

'What?' he said, barely able to get the words out past his dry throat.

Kevin nodded his head. And he had tears in his eyes. Oh. God. Kevin had left Jon. And had come to Patrick's apartment. He had left Jon. He had chosen...Patrick?

Oh sweet jesus christ. Patrick was barely breathing. He was waiting. There needed to be something more...some piece was missing.

'I'm completely fucking in love with you' Kevin said quietly. So earnestly. So. Fucking. Sweetly. And just like that Patrick's heart soared again and the relief, the joy...he couldn't even begin...

'And I want to know...' Kevin continued speaking. And Patrick was hanging on every sentence, watching Kevin's lips form every word, his life feeling like it was in the balance. 'Do you want to give this a shot, just the two of us...together' Kevin asked, and there was such anxiety in his voice, such self-doubt. Didn't he know? Couldn't he tell how he had owned Patrick's heart for so long?

'Yes' Patrick had stated. Firmly. He completely and utterly wanted to give this a shot. The two of them. Together. He didn't ever want to wait again. Time was precious and it was fleeting and he'd never waste any again in hesitating.

'Yeah?' Kevin pushed...didn't Kevin believe him?

Patrick stepped forward, nodding and kissed him. Put his lips on that mouth that he'd felt devastated to imagine he'd never touch again, and breathed in Kevin's air, as if it was all he needed to survive. Kevin reached out to pull him closer...

'Ow...my arm...my arm...' Patrick had laughed, in pain. Oh god. That fucking hurt so much. What fucking shitty timing. He wanted Kevin to grab him, he wanted to pull Kevin to him, he wanted to hold every inch of him against his own body and his stupid fucking arm was stopping him!

'Shit, Sorry...sorry, sorry...sorry' Kevin was saying, looking at him like he was made of spun glass, searching for a way to hold Patrick without hurting him. Patrick just looked into his eyes. His beautiful eyes that he loved so much and that saw right into this soul. And then Kevin leaned forward and kissed him gently. And it was the most beautiful, the sweetest, most necessary kiss he'd ever been given. He could feel the yearning, and he could feel the words that Kevin had spoken to him. Kevin was completely in love with him. And to be loved by Kevin felt like he'd been handed the most glorious, precious, amazing gift. Kevin pulled back for a second, and they'd looked at each other. Yes. It was so simple when it was right. Kevin cradled his head, and kissed him again, and this time with the love, there was the longing. The passion, the desire, the absolute need and Patrick was...happy.

He had come home. He was loved. He was not alone.

He had emerged through the night, fully formed, and had found love waiting for him on the other side. And it was...glorious.