Moving on is something I can do (Patrick, Alisdair)
Alisdair was looking at him and Patrick suddenly found it hard to think. His throat felt like it was closing up and his stomach clenched almost painfully.
The topic of previous relationships had only just come up, but while Alisdair had been talking about his past boyfriends, Patrick hadn't even thought that soon the focus would be on him. And now he was expected to explain about his dead wife and the air left the room and he couldn't breathe.
"Patrick?" Alisdair asked, looking terribly concerned. He was sitting across from Patrick, a glass vase with one rose and two glasses of soda between them since Patrick didn't drink any more. "Is something wrong?"
They had only been on two dates that could be considered even close to romantic. Previously they had spent time together but never alone. It had always been with the other musicians working on Johann Leidermann's album or Alisdair's friends. They were alone now because Patrick had finally decided he could try this dating thing. He didn't know it consisted of talking about the past.
"No," he said, pulling on his collar to see if that would help him get some air. "No, I-" Patrick shook his head, his eyes pleading.
"Pat, you don't have to tell me," Alisdair said then, reaching for Patrick's hand, which he offered easily. "I'm sorry I asked."
"It's not you," Patrick was quick to reassure him. "It's- Okay." Patrick nodded and then he tried to take a deep breath, only part way succeeding."
"I don't think it is, Patrick. You've turned maroon."
Patrick looked up and he bit his lip. "It's...my wife."
"Your-" Alisdair's eyes widened. "Uhm...oh?"
Patrick closed his eyes. "I'm not married," he added, since Alisdair now looked like he suddenly realised he was party to an affair here. "My wife, Julia, she died. My wife and my...daughters."
There was silence between them and for a while, all they could hear was the din of other diners around them, and the clink of silverware against china. When Patrick finally dared to open his eyes, he found Alisdair looking at him with such sympathy, he almost started crying just because of the look in Alisdair's eyes.
"I'm so sorry," Alisdair finally said. "I had no idea."
"It was a year and a half ago. And then for a long time I did nothing but drink. I lost my job and my house. Everything." Alisdair didn't look disgusted as Patrick had assumed he would, so he continued. "She was my childhood sweetheart. I knew her...we had known each other since we were about twelve. We started dating at sixteen, married at twenty. We had our girls at twenty-three and twenty-five. I know this sounds ridiculous and unbelievable but we never fought. We argued, sure, but...we just never got to the fighting point. She was my partner in every way. They were on their way to see me perform when they were hit by a lorry."
"Patrick-"
Patrick was sure that Alisdair was now assuming this was the reason he was so very awkward and that was okay with him. It was better than explaining about The Templar. And it certainly didn't help anyway. Dating someone who wasn't his wife seemed so very strange, but he knew he had to get used to it. She was gone. "It's okay," Patrick interrupted Alisdair. "I...I miss them, but I'm okay."
Alisdair smiled at him and he gave Patrick's hand a squeeze. "If you ever want to talk about them.."
"I'll let you know," Patrick said with a nod, and then he reached for his wallet. "Here," he said, handing it over to the other man, who gently let go of Patrick's hand to take it. "That's Julia," he said, pointing at the picture of the blond woman grinning back at him. He flicked the photo over and on the other side was a photo of a red-headed girl and another blonde, laughing in the sun. "The redhead is Alex and the blonde is Daisy. Well, Virginia but she hated that name. She chose Daisy for herself because she said flowers are always happy, even in the winter while they're sleeping." Patrick sniffed, but he managed not to break down as Alisdair looked at the pictures of his past.
"They're beautiful, Patrick."
When Alisdair handed back his wallet, Patrick smiled gently. "Thank you. I'm glad I'm here with you, Alisdair." He didn't want Alisdair thinking suddenly that Patrick didn't want him or that he couldn't measure up to Julia. "You're the best thing about coming to London. I've been getting my life in order and it isn't easy, but...you're wonderful you know?"
"I'm glad, Patrick," Alisdair said, looking relieved. "And I'm not going anywhere."
Patrick blushed and he ducked his head. He had let himself be vulnerable and Alisdair hadn't turned him away or been horrible to him. Patrick's lips spread into a smile and he felt safe for the first time in a long time.
The topic of previous relationships had only just come up, but while Alisdair had been talking about his past boyfriends, Patrick hadn't even thought that soon the focus would be on him. And now he was expected to explain about his dead wife and the air left the room and he couldn't breathe.
"Patrick?" Alisdair asked, looking terribly concerned. He was sitting across from Patrick, a glass vase with one rose and two glasses of soda between them since Patrick didn't drink any more. "Is something wrong?"
They had only been on two dates that could be considered even close to romantic. Previously they had spent time together but never alone. It had always been with the other musicians working on Johann Leidermann's album or Alisdair's friends. They were alone now because Patrick had finally decided he could try this dating thing. He didn't know it consisted of talking about the past.
"No," he said, pulling on his collar to see if that would help him get some air. "No, I-" Patrick shook his head, his eyes pleading.
"Pat, you don't have to tell me," Alisdair said then, reaching for Patrick's hand, which he offered easily. "I'm sorry I asked."
"It's not you," Patrick was quick to reassure him. "It's- Okay." Patrick nodded and then he tried to take a deep breath, only part way succeeding."
"I don't think it is, Patrick. You've turned maroon."
Patrick looked up and he bit his lip. "It's...my wife."
"Your-" Alisdair's eyes widened. "Uhm...oh?"
Patrick closed his eyes. "I'm not married," he added, since Alisdair now looked like he suddenly realised he was party to an affair here. "My wife, Julia, she died. My wife and my...daughters."
There was silence between them and for a while, all they could hear was the din of other diners around them, and the clink of silverware against china. When Patrick finally dared to open his eyes, he found Alisdair looking at him with such sympathy, he almost started crying just because of the look in Alisdair's eyes.
"I'm so sorry," Alisdair finally said. "I had no idea."
"It was a year and a half ago. And then for a long time I did nothing but drink. I lost my job and my house. Everything." Alisdair didn't look disgusted as Patrick had assumed he would, so he continued. "She was my childhood sweetheart. I knew her...we had known each other since we were about twelve. We started dating at sixteen, married at twenty. We had our girls at twenty-three and twenty-five. I know this sounds ridiculous and unbelievable but we never fought. We argued, sure, but...we just never got to the fighting point. She was my partner in every way. They were on their way to see me perform when they were hit by a lorry."
"Patrick-"
Patrick was sure that Alisdair was now assuming this was the reason he was so very awkward and that was okay with him. It was better than explaining about The Templar. And it certainly didn't help anyway. Dating someone who wasn't his wife seemed so very strange, but he knew he had to get used to it. She was gone. "It's okay," Patrick interrupted Alisdair. "I...I miss them, but I'm okay."
Alisdair smiled at him and he gave Patrick's hand a squeeze. "If you ever want to talk about them.."
"I'll let you know," Patrick said with a nod, and then he reached for his wallet. "Here," he said, handing it over to the other man, who gently let go of Patrick's hand to take it. "That's Julia," he said, pointing at the picture of the blond woman grinning back at him. He flicked the photo over and on the other side was a photo of a red-headed girl and another blonde, laughing in the sun. "The redhead is Alex and the blonde is Daisy. Well, Virginia but she hated that name. She chose Daisy for herself because she said flowers are always happy, even in the winter while they're sleeping." Patrick sniffed, but he managed not to break down as Alisdair looked at the pictures of his past.
"They're beautiful, Patrick."
When Alisdair handed back his wallet, Patrick smiled gently. "Thank you. I'm glad I'm here with you, Alisdair." He didn't want Alisdair thinking suddenly that Patrick didn't want him or that he couldn't measure up to Julia. "You're the best thing about coming to London. I've been getting my life in order and it isn't easy, but...you're wonderful you know?"
"I'm glad, Patrick," Alisdair said, looking relieved. "And I'm not going anywhere."
Patrick blushed and he ducked his head. He had let himself be vulnerable and Alisdair hadn't turned him away or been horrible to him. Patrick's lips spread into a smile and he felt safe for the first time in a long time.