DISCLAIMER: I don't own House of Anubis or Sick Puppies.
What's wrong?
The two words that she had scribbled on the notepad after extreme contemplation now waited for an answer. Through the window, Patricia could easily tell Eddie was confused. Was he surprised that she had known something was wrong? He wasn't that good at covering up his feelings.
Nothing.
His reply was quick and short and tight, and she was almost glad they didn't have to get into that conversation about his problems, which she figured were stupid things like the fact his favorite shirt was wrinkled. Patricia rolled her eyes, wondering what to say next. Maybe she should just close the curtains and be done with it?
But suddenly he was writing something down on his whiteboard, so she waited patiently. Patricia brushed some hair out of her face, studying the way he hunched over and the way his tongue poked out and eyebrows furrowed.
We never finished our 'question game.'
Oh. Patricia had thought the contrary- that her sudden outburst the other day had been the end of that game.
Eddie bit his lip as he lifted the whiteboard in front of his face so she could see.
He didn't want to play the game again. Of course not- he wasn't in the mood for drama right now, and Patricia had a flair for it.
But this time, he had a reason.
He was going to ask her out.
He wanted this over, he wanted to be done with this for once and for all. Eddie couldn't handle it- he wasn't a bad guy, he never was. The sooner it was over with, the sooner this weight could be lifted off his shoulders. Fabian's words, which had become his conscience, were echoing in his head, drowning him in his guilt.
Because yes, Patricia Williamson was a lot of things.
But she had never done anything to him.
She had gone out of her way to avoid him.
Eddie looked up to see Patricia holding up her notepad and looking out from behind it to gauge his reaction. He gave her a slight smile, as if that could make up for everything he was about to do.
You want to keep playing?
Her face voiced the question written on her paper, and he nodded, scribbling down an easy question on his whiteboard. If he asked her to go out with him now, she'd know something was up. Because Patricia was ever doubtful, ever hesitant.
Why do you like Sick Puppies? I like them too.
Eddie grinned as he saw one of her eyes widened, the other shielded by her hair.
They speak to me. They talk about real things.
The answer came after a while, but Eddie waited patiently. Patricia was probably trying to figure out his ulterior motive; it was what she had been doing ever since she met him.
What surprised him the most was how much her answer fit him as well. Eddie listened to Sick Puppies more for the instrumental sound, but on the rare occasion that he did pay attention to the lyrics…Patricia was right. Their music was more than auto tuned whining about high school- it was the truth. And it only fit that Patricia listened to them as well, considering she was constantly seeking the truth.
Same. Your turn.
Eddie offered up, and she quickly bent over to write something on her notepad, the auburn hair falling over her face. Eddie briefly wondered what she would look like with her hair pinned back- would she look vulnerable without something to hide behind? More defiant?
Less like the freak everyone had come to know?
Why do you like Sick Puppies?
Eddie's answer came instantaneously- just like Patricia, he too knew exactly why he liked the band.
The music. It just fits my mood. When I'm mad, they'll be mad. When I'm sad, they'll be sad.
And she put her notepad down for a minute, her eyes meeting his. What was it in the greenish-grayish orbs? Respect? Admiration?
Acceptance.
His stomach clenched as he recognized the look. Eddie really didn't want to do this now, but his hands were already drifting to the whiteboard, his fingers prying open a dry erase marker.
Will you go out with me?
He didn't peek out from behind his whiteboard to check her reaction- he couldn't, he was already feeling sick to his stomach. They had just started getting along, maybe he had even somehow altered her opinion on him.
And now this.
He finally looked up to glance at her notepad, which now shielded her face too.
Is this some kind of joke?
Yes, Eddie closed his eyes tightly. That was all it was, a search for popularity.
Maybe he knew what Patricia had thought about him since day one, because right now, he was feeling the same. Suddenly, Eddie wasn't 'cool' or the 'bad boy' anymore. He was the guy that was asking out a girl on a bet. He was the guy messing with a girl's feelings, asking her out only to ditch her in the end.
He was becoming his father, Eric Sweet. His father, who had left them.
But his marker had a mind of their own.
No. I'm seriously asking you out on a date.
What had Fabian said that day? Ah yes- '"I get that you have your new friends and you want to fit in, Eddie. But this is not the way to do it. She has feelings too."'
Patricia's response was up in the air and Eddie was honestly stunned she hadn't closed her curtains yet, surprised she was still doing this at all.
You have a girlfriend.
And the words were flowing on the white surface faster than he could register.
We broke up. Because I like you.
And maybe she didn't have anything to say to that. Because her notepad was strewn on the floor and the pen she had been using dropped. All that was left was her face. Her face, wrought in a look of disbelief and disgust and hurt and loss and pain and anger.
And then the curtains closed, and Eddie's whiteboard drooped in failure.
Because Patricia Williamson sought for truth.
And they both knew that whatever Eddie had just written was far from it.
She was used once again.
She didn't feel sad because Eddie was obviously lying- Patricia didn't think of him like…that anyways at all.
She wasn't angry because no one seemed to want to just talk to her, no reasons, no excuses- she was used to deprivation in social activity and it was surprising she had come this far in her new school.
She was just empty because everyone always pretended. They made it seem like they cared and then they pulled this.
"Hey," Piper's voice floated into the room, and Patricia opened her eyes to see her twin looking around concernedly. "Why's it so dark? Open the curtain or something." Piper reached to pull the shades open, the thin pieces of fabric being the only thing blocking Patricia from him.
"No," Patricia protested loudly before letting her voice get softer. "I-I have a headache." She lay back down, pressing the back of her palm to her forehead. Thank her lucky stars that Piper was gullible. Many people said twins were supposed to be able to sense when the other is feeling down, but that was false in their case. Piper and Patricia had grown apart right after elementary school and the supposed twin telepathy vanished as well, so Piper was fairly naive when it came to how Patricia was feeling. Patricia could usually tell what Piper's mood was- she just didn't want to get roped in a conversation about her twin's problems. (Which always seemed horrifically minuscule in comparison to Patricia's.)
"Oh," Piper frowned. "Do you want a painkiller or something? I could go get one or-"
"No, I'm good," Patricia muttered. Piper nodded before leaving, offering her sister a hesitant half smile, probably terrified that she would lash out in a horribly cranky mood. When she was gone, Patricia turned to her side and spoke quietly.
"It's not like you can fix my stupid life with a painkiller."