Live A Little
“And then I was all like - ‘Geezus Karen if you wanted me to study why not say so? I'm not dumb,’ And she said - ‘Cole I don't appreciate your tone’ all snotty like, and then I was gonna punch her right in her big fat face. I mean, she looks like a-”
“Muk!” Patrick interjected, springing off the couch and giddily swiping up on his phone. He was of course referring to the goopy purple Pokémon on his phone, not poor Karen. He spun twice and hopped around excitedly, waiting for the capture to take.
“C’mon man! Don't stop my rant now!” Cole said, pouting. He crossed his arms with a frown before sitting down on the couch. Patrick simply smiled and sat down next to him.
“Karen’s just worried about her Physics grade, it's got nothing to do with you Cole. I’m sure she knows that you’ve done Quadratic Formulas before, and she’s probably just intimidated by your jockish stature. Let’s face it, you look like an athlete, not a mathlete,” Patrick smiled in reassurance before nick naming his newly acquired pokéfriend. Appropriately enough, he named the muk “Not Karen” to commemorate the night.
Cole scoffed before sprawling out across the couch, crossing his arms and preparing for the long night ahead. “You’re lucky I find you amusing Patrick, otherwise I’d punch you, too.”
Patrick laughed as he got up, his footsteps echoing through the mostly empty apartment. Ads of the upcoming election flitted back and forth on the TV, blaring loudly on subjects Patrick didn't really care about. To Patrick, children could argue more politely, and that said a lot about what was happening nowadays. They weren’t talking about his part of town anyway. He lived in a highrise apartment in a seedy part of Chicago, not Flordia. He didn’t care though, because he was much more focused on his Twitter feed. There were rumors of a Charizard lurking among his empty streets, and Patrick was determined to catch one. It was his calling, his destiny, it was his one goal in life. For now at least. And even though Cole knew nothing of Pokémon Go, he was still kind enough to accompany Patrick on his righteous quest, and was ready to spend the night lazing around on Patrick’s couch until they heard of one in the immediate area.
Patrick sat down on the counter, a grimace breaking the easy smile that permeated his face. He had caught sight of that thing that hangs around.
Patrick has taken to calling it “Depression”, though the creature was nothing of the sort.
I love you, you hate me, I will kill your hopes and dreams
It was singing the Barney theme? God, it was so creepy!
Patrick shifted so he was facing the living room and not Depression. If he ignored it, it may go away.
Oh you wound me Patty! I’m wounded really I am.
Patrick stared down at his shoes.
You can’t ignore me forever.
He started to play with his shoelaces.
Oh, so I’m gonna have to play dirty, mh?
Patrick stared ahead blankly.
So I shouldn’t mention how you’re playing with your little boyfriend again? You know your classmates will think you’re gay if you keep this up.
“So what?” Patrick muttered. “Cole and I are best friends, and that’s all that matters.”
Do you really think Cole believes that? Ha, oh Patrick you gullible worm. Cole doesn’t care about you. He doesn’t need you in his life. He’s smarter than you. He’s more fit than you. He’s hotter, kinder, more well-liked. In fact, he probably is waiting for the day you die so he’s finally free to make better friends.
All thoughts of Pokemon were cast aside, and Patrick started to hyperventilate. He could usually take anything Depression said in stride. But for some reason, Patrick was too tired to keep a straight face. Maybe Depression had a point. Did Cole really want to be his friend? Logically yes, but Patrick wasn’t the funnest person to be with. Let’s face it, Patrick was a huge nerd. And nerds aren’t cool.
Maybe Cole really would be better off without Patrick in his life. The thought made him shudder, but Patrick couldn’t let it go.
While he was musing on his dark thoughts, Depression picked up his mom’s St. Louis shot glass and tossed it around.
Got any whisky? It hummed.
“I don’t drink.” Patrick murmured.
Depression threw his hands up in surrender.
Jeezus H-Christ Patty you're a junior! Live a little! By now Depression was already rummaging around in the fridge, empty shot glass in hand.
“I do not drink, Depression.” Patrick enforced, crossing his arms.
The creature slammed the fridge shut, triumphantly holding a bottle of apple juice. He swung around on the balls of his feet and poured his claimed apple juice into the shot glass.
Now then Patrick, let's talk about you kicking your own bucket. Depression grinned devilishly as he swirled the apple juice in the glass like fine whiskey.
“Yes, because when I contemplate suicide, I completely intend to take the thing with apple juice seriously.” Patrick rolled his eyes and sprawled out across the island counter. He tends to do that often, now that he has time to reminisce.
“Hey Pat. Did you say something?” Cole called from the living room. His eyes were trained on the tv, now playing Jeopardy. Despite his seemingly cool act, he was mouthing along to the answers and beating his fist in the air what he was right.
Look at him. A well respected athlete and incredibly smart? He’s the very definition of cool. And what are you Patty-boy? A selfish, dirty little fleck on his memory. You're a liar and a coward Patrick.
A liar and a coward, eh?
No one needs you.
He is pretty useless.
You live on the top floor of a 10 story apartment building. Jump Patty. It’s gonna be okay.
Patrick was about to get up, but laid back down. He remembered why he and Cole were staking out. He was determined to catch that Pokémon. It's not right to call it quits before at least waiting a couple more hours, maybe seeing if he could hear rumors of-
Oh please? You're seriously telling me the only thing keeping you from jumping is a bunch of worthless pixels in a dying trend that won't be relevant by 2017.
It was pretty pathetic, wasn't it?
Trust me Patty, it's gonna all be fine once you jump.
Logically it was a stupid idea. It was just his Depression talking. But his feet were already climbing the stairs before he could give it a second thought. As he climbed, he thought about everything he had accomplished in life. Before he had even reached the door, his list was up.
“Wow, I’m a loser,” He muttered.
The stars were out as he looked over the roof. Though he couldn’t see the city behind billowing clouds of smog, Patrick could hear the city. And the stars were out, which was oddly fitting. It seemed to be poetic justice that the stars would be the only ones to witness his death.
The stars and his Depression.
Said Depression was whispering lies as it watched him stride purposefully towards the edge. As Patrick had stepped onto the edge. As he had sucked in his last breath, and lifted a foot off of the ledge and let it dangle. As he had just let go, just jump and forget it all.
He was falling. He was flying. And it jarred to a stop. Why had it stopped?
Patrick looked back.
Cole had grabbed his jacket. Wordlessly, Cole tugged Patrick closer to him, causing Patrick to put his foot back down on the ledge and stagger slightly backwards.
There was a beat of silence. The boys just stood there and looked at each other, both pale and still. Neither of them knew who started crying first, but soon they were both sobbing messily. It wasn’t pretty. Cole was an ugly crier and Patrick was just ugly.
After a solid hour of emotional baggage dumping, their crying had calmed down, and they were both looking back at the stars. An uncomfortable silence sat bloated between the two teens, broken only by the chime of Patrick’s phone. While said Patrick was trying to compose the words he'd say to his friend, to explain why jumping off the ledge seems like such a good choice, Cole was scrolling through Patrick’s phone.
“Patrick.”
“I’m so sorry Cole.”
“Patrick.”
“Cole it won’t leave me alone. It won’t go away! I’m so sick of it Cole!”
“Patrick, you are my friend. I don't understand why you want to jump, and I'm not gonna ask. But I'm not letting you die before I have the chance to say this - You are my closest, most treasured and valuable friend. It tortures me to know you are hurting so bad, and I will do everything in my physical and mental power to convince you that this side of the ledge is better than that one. That being here with me is better than being alone on the concrete. And well this is all touching, and I'm shedding tears bro I really am, I believe this deserves your attention more.”
And before Patrick could get a single apology out, Cole slapped his hand over Patrick’s mouth. He was holding up Patrick’s phone with disturbing enthusiasm. With a flick of the wrist, Cole swiped opened the lock screen, and fired up Pokemon Go.
In a mad stroke of fate, on the ledge they had previously been standing on, now sat a Charizard.
Without thinking, the two boys shot up and began to madly tap and swipe, trying every trick in the book to catch that Pokémon! And soon they were laughing. They had done it - A (quite frankly beautiful) Charizard was residing in Patrick’s team.
It was crazy. It was pointless and futile. It was practically impossible, and yet.
And yet it made Patrick unbelievably happy.
So, you did what you set out to do in life, eh? That's all well and good, but there’s a ledge oh so temptingly over-
Depression couldn’t finish, because Patrick punched the air where Depression once stood.
