Chapter Text
2006
Patrick
The weight of day melted off Patrick’s body as a mixture of ice-cold barley and hops slid down his throat in a matter of what seemed like seconds. Each time the server brought him a fresh bottle, they escaped with an empty. It was unclear how much he had consumed this evening. He held up his bottle after meeting the server’s glance, hoping for another serving of this smooth overpriced local brew. She nodded in agreement. Patrick looked around at his tablemates all engrossed in some kind of conversation that he wasn’t paying attention to. He listened for his cue to enter into any of the surrounding conversations, but none of them interested him. Patrick didn’t want to explain Rose Video’s inventory system or the company’s culture. Not that he wasn’t interested. Quite the opposite. He just already knew all he needed to know about running a successful Rose Video Branch. Store #785 was practically Patrick’s and one of the most profitable locations in the company. This mandatory business trip for manager trainees to New York was just a formality to make everything official, but Patrick didn’t mind. It was a break from life. A break he didn’t know he needed till he escaped.
As he nibbled on some complementary popcorn spread out in multiple bowls throughout the table, his eyes wandered around the bar, noticing the same wooden stools and tables as the fanciest locations in Toronto. The difference was no one knew him here, not even the people he arrived with. There was something freeing about spending time with strangers. He could decide to include or exclude any personal details he wished, and no one would know any better.
Patrick continued to watch people move about the bar. Groups of men and women made their way in and out of the restrooms. Couples on the dance floor, their bodies pressed together like they’re covered in glue. Everywhere Patrick looked, smiles filled his vision until his focus shifted toward the bar to discover a neatly styled head of black hair accompanied by possibly a black sweater and pair of jeans. The poorly lit bar didn’t allow Patrick to see much of this man hunched over the bar top. A tingle shot down his spine, tearing his gaze away to find another beer in front of him. When did that get here? Patrick quickly guzzled the beverage, looking for an excuse to visit the bar, hoping to find out why he couldn’t stop watching this lonely man.
Patrick excused himself from his group because Marcy Brewer raised a very polite boy, even if he was abandoning his team to go see someone else. As Patrick slowly approached, the man’s profile came into view. A hint of stubble covered his very sharp jawline. The same jawline Patrick noticed earlier today.
Patrick approached the bar counter, pretending to order another beer. The bartender busied herself with pouring drinks. Patrick tried to remain focused, contemplating how to start a conversation. He was a sociable person. This shouldn’t have been so hard, but when one of the hottest guys you’ve ever laid eyes on is sitting next to you, the words just don’t fall out of your mouth. Or at least they didn’t for Patrick at that moment.
He felt more than saw the man’s gaze on him, as he turned to smile. “Hi, are you in the Rose Video Training?”
“Yes, unfortunately.” The man deadpanned.
“The rest of the team is sitting at those tables back there.” Patrick gestured toward a sea of smiling faces in the back corner. “We’d love it if you joined us.”
The man furrowed his brow. “I’m trying really hard not to connect with people right now.”
“It’s no fun to drink alone.”
“Here’s an empty seat.” The man gestured toward the unoccupied neighboring stool.
“Is that an invitation?”
“You were so concerned that I didn’t have a drinking companion. I was just trying to ease your conscience.”
“I couldn’t let a fellow trainee drink alone. It wouldn’t be the Rose Video way.” The man rolled his eyes, a hint of a smirk gathered on the corner of his mouth. “I’m Patrick.” He said, extending his arm toward the man after he sat down.
“David. I’m David.” He nodded, accepting Patrick’s hand in his for maybe a beat longer than a handshake needed to be because their hands stopped moving. Their eyes focused on each other.
A series of goosebumps ran up Patrick’s arms, forcing him, not intentionally, to pull his hand away from David’s. Just a couple of forms away from being declared the manager of Rose Video #785 involved many business meetings and many handshakes. Patrick’s father taught him the properties of a proper handshake, but that… that was not a handshake. He couldn’t define it, but he was certain he wasn’t leaving this bar stool as long as David was sitting next to him.
“Are you Johnny Rose’s son?” Patrick asked shyly.
“Did the eyebrows give it away?”
Patrick paused for a moment, contemplating his response. Maybe it was the way he commanded attention upon entering a room. All eyes focused on David each time he walked into a gathering space today. Every time Johnny Rose visited #785 people would stop and stare. The Rose family knew how to draw a crowd. It was that simple. That still didn’t help Patrick answer the question. Who pays attention to eyebrows?
“You both wear nice clothes.” Patrick gestured down David’s torso, trying not to focus on how soft David’s sweater appeared. Patrick didn’t own a sweater, but his girlfriend’s wardrobe contained multiple colors and styles. He never thought guys wore sweaters. His friends didn’t, but maybe the right sweater would make all the difference in his wardrobe.
David bit back a laugh. “I think our style exceeds that of the Gap or Old Navy.”
“Noted. I take a minimalist approach to fashion if you will.”
“Oh, you must own several pairs of the same jeans and the same shirt in multiple colors.”
“Close… multiple shades of blue.”
Considering the volume of the background music and hundreds of conversations surrounding them, Patrick caught just a hint of a laugh that fell from David’s mouth. He wanted to hear it again.
“So… I’m sort of piecing together that you really don’t want to be here?” Patrick asked, thinking back to maybe a handful of times David said a word to anyone today. He was the man of mystery sitting in the meeting room's corner.
David nodded. “You would be correct.”
“I’m sensing there is a story?” Patrick asked, not expecting an honest answer or even one at all.
“I want to open an art gallery, but I need start-up money.” David blurted the least likely explanation Patrick imagined. “My father won’t help me unless I ‘try out’ the family business. This very fun training is part of that.” David’s hands flailed as he spoke. Patrick fought to bite back a smile, fearing David would think Patrick was laughing at him, but he certainly wasn’t.
“Are you an artist?” Patrick asked. He didn’t have a creative bone in his body. He enjoyed looking at reports and analyzing data.
“I draw from time to time.”
“Could I see some of your work?”
“Oh God, I haven’t drawn anything good in years.” David looked down at his empty glass.
Patrick must have hit a sore spot. It sucked to feel like you weren’t worthy or any good. The feeling was familiar after a few blown championships. He slightly grabbed David’s shoulder and mumbled, “I bet you’re harder on yourself than you should be.”
“My glass is empty. What are you drinking?” David asked, likely avoiding the subject, but at least he wasn’t pushing Patrick away.
Patrick nodded. “How about a beer?”
Silence stretched between them for a few moments while they waited for their drinks. Patrick tried not to notice, and he assumed David didn’t want to get caught as Patrick felt David’s eyes studying his body. Patrick didn’t think he minded being examined by David. Not one bit.
“Mr. Rose…. here’s your beer and cosmopolitan.” The bartender placed their order in front of David.
“Thanks, Jackie.”
David slid the beer down the bar toward Patrick. He raised the glass to David, who followed suit. “To new friends.”
David clinked his glass with Patrick’s.
The conversation flowed freely. Talking to David was almost too easy, especially considering they were complete opposites. They laughed. Patrick hadn’t laughed this hard in so long.
After a bit of time, David started moving in his seat and got up. “Patrick, come dance with me. I love this song!”
Patrick never danced. He was as stiff as a board and just didn’t have a feel for musical tempo or beat. Rachel, his girlfriend back home, begged him to join her on the dance floor at every high school dance and prom. He fulfilled her requests for the slow songs because he enjoyed swaying in her arms, but otherwise sat back with the guys while the ladies busted a move. Maybe it was the beer, maybe it was New York City, but when David grabbed his hand, Patrick followed, considering he might have followed David anywhere.
“Can’t Get You Out of My Head” filled the speakers as they faced each other. Patrick just let his body move while he focused on David. He watched David’s curves slowly move in a circular motion. His stomach and pelvic region would gently roll. Patrick fought to keep his focus on David’s face, but every hip roll and shimmy made his mission impossible. Rachel didn’t move like this, and Patrick was certain he didn’t want her to. It had to be the beer.
🍺🍸
David
Everything about this whole evening should’ve set off so many red flags, but David couldn’t stand to care. Even if Patrick was as straight as an arrow, he was cute and nice. David wouldn’t even object to an experimental fuck by this guy, although when his pillow turned cold in the morning, it was going to hurt. That was a problem for future David. Present David planned to savor the pain from the wide smile he was likely displaying. Watching Patrick struggle to find a rhythm with his moves was so damn endearing. “I take it you don’t dance much?”
Patrick chuckled. “Is it that obvious?”
“Your legs move like tree trunks. I wouldn’t suggest taking ballet lessons.”
“Noted.” Patrick nodded with this upside-down frown resembling a smile. If his eyes weren’t lit up like a fourth of July fireworks display, David would’ve considered that he offended Patrick.
When the pair made their way back to the bar, a pair of drinks was waiting for them. David liked Jackie, the bartender, and planned to tip her well.
“Why do you need your dad’s money to open the gallery if you have your own trust fund?” Patrick asked, taking a quick swig from his beer.
David paused for a moment, forgetting when he mentioned his trust fund, but if this guy was after David for his money, he mine as well know the truth about David’s accessibility to that account. He wouldn’t be the first person to desert David after learning about his financial restrictions.
“I don’t have access to my trust fund until I turn thirty. Clearly, my parents don’t feel that a twenty-something can handle their own money.” David owned a credit card to spend as he needed, but that never included the expense of opening a gallery in New York City. His parents never capped his daily, weekly, or even monthly spending habits, but clarified that he was not to open a gallery without their permission or risk being cut off financially. David loved his money, and what it allowed him to do so, he suffered silently.
“I don’t understand why your dad is forcing you to work for Rose Video.”
Patrick reached for some peanuts in the bowl between them. As he reached inside, Patrick connected with David’s hand and squeezed it as a now-familiar wave of electricity bolted through him. David recognized that same jolt earlier when Patrick held out his hand and David took it.
“My Dad wants to expand the family business. It’s his dream, not mine. I really don’t think he has confidence in me.” David took a sip of his drink, pretending to ignore that he was opening up to a virtual stranger who felt like anything but. “I’m not that close to my parents. We don’t sit down and have Sunday dinners or anything. I’m more like their possession and not really their child.”
“David, that sounds awful,” Patrick muttered, his large, bright eyes drawing David in more and more with each passing moment, like a warm bath with a rising temperature.
They talked about David’s childhood and how Patrick grew up with friends and a large family. It all sounded so… nice.
“David, could you show me anything you’ve created?” Patrick asked. “I’d really like to see it. I bet it’s beautiful.” The warm, rich honey color of his eyes was slightly muted as he asked. David wanted to say no, but he couldn’t when those eyes focused right in his direction.
Those eyes made him feel safe.
David slid his phone from his pocket and brought up a few images, explaining each piece, relishing that someone was showing interest in him as a person and not what he could do for them. David had become accustomed to people snuggling up to him for money or some other favor because of his family’s connections. Patrick didn’t appear to be like any of those people.
Patrick didn’t speak while David took him through a journey of some of his favorite pieces, but hopefully, his wide eyes and jaw drop were positive responses.
“David, these are amazing,” Patrick exclaimed as he re-scrolled through each of the photos. “I would hang these in my apartment.”
David’s lips parted to one side in a small formation of a smile. “You would?”
“There’s something so sad, but yet hopeful in each of these. I think it’s the use of less color. The random drops of color make the whole thing pop. I know nothing about art, so I’m probably not making sense.”
“I think you’re the first person who's been able to see that,” David replied, feeling very seen. Thinking about the dark, yet promising days after high school awaiting college.
Patrick squeezed David’s hand again. “If you want to open a gallery, I think you should. Don’t give up.” Patrick paused for a moment. “Maybe you can work part-time for Rose Video to raise money to help fund the gallery opening. It could be a compromise.”
David was terrible at compromise. He never had to learn the skill when his parents handed him everything he wanted until now.
“Promise me you’ll invite me to the gallery opening. I can’t wait to see it.” Patrick said, his lips curving into this adorable upside-down smile. No one had smiled at him like that before, not with such ease or confidence.
David couldn’t help but return a smile. “Okay.” Patrick was like the cheerleader he didn’t know he needed but wanted.
🍺🍸
Patrick
Maybe it was the incredible amount of beer he had consumed this evening, or maybe he wanted to be supportive, but Patrick wrapped his arms around David’s shoulders, pulling him in for a hug.
David wrapped his arms around Patrick’s waist, latching onto him tightly. He didn’t let go right away as David rested his head on Patrick’s shoulder for several breaths. When David finally pulled away, he gazed into Patrick’s eyes, and, for a split second, Patrick was pretty sure David let his stare drift down to his lips.
David slowly moved closer to him. Patrick knew what was coming, and as much as he wanted to know the feeling of David’s lips on his, he turned his head to the side at the last possible moment. “I’m sorry, David. I have a girlfriend. Her name is Rachel.”
He couldn’t do that to Rachel. He wasn’t that kind of guy.
🍺🍸
David
Fuck! I knew it! David hung his head. “I’m so sorry. Clearly, too many cosmos clouded my judgment.” He knew Patrick was straight, yet he went for it, anyway. What did he really expect to happen? That Patrick would suddenly realize he liked men after a few drinks with David? He could only hope. Patrick was so different from anyone else David had ever met.
David looked back up at Patrick, not really sure what to say. It should’ve been an awkward silence, but it wasn’t. They held each other’s gaze for a few moments until Patrick finally spoke.
“Please don’t apologize. I owe you an apology. I shouldn’t have let things go too far. I was just having such a great time and didn’t realize —”
David cut him off. “Patrick, it wasn’t you. We’re drunk, and I got carried away.” David said, realizing he had to put some space between them because David knew Patrick was genuinely sorry, but he didn’t know how to process that. He wasn’t used to people being so nice to him. “Maybe we should get some rest and catch up tomorrow?”
“I’d like that, David,” Patrick said with a half-smile.
David slid off the barstool, taking a final lingering look at Patrick. He memorized his soft, light brown curly hair, his kind eyes, compact, but well-muscled body, and everything in between. David knew he’d fall asleep thinking about Patrick’s hands on him or how Patrick’s legs would wrap around him. He flashed Patrick a partial smile, dropped some cash on the bar, waved, and quickly exited the bar. Resting his head against the building outside, he closed his eyes for a moment as David sensed the ache in his chest. One only soothed by the perfect boy inside. He was everything David ever wanted, but could never have. Not as long as he knew Patrick was with someone.
🍺🍸
Patrick
The moment his foot stepped into the training meeting space the next morning, he couldn’t help but examine who filled each seat. As he studied the familiar faces, he greeted everyone. He wasn’t there.
Moments later, the training facilitator sat down, announcing David left the program.
Patrick’s stomach sank. He meant what he said last night. If David invited him to a gallery opening, Patrick would’ve jumped on the next flight to New York with Rachel.
They didn’t exchange numbers. Patrick wasn’t about to stalk him on social media. David didn’t want to see him again, and Patrick had to respect his wishes.