Come Back To Me

A/N: I want to sincerly apologize for any grammatical errors, as that happens to be my greatest flaw in all of this. No matter how many classes I take or books I read, I can never seem to wrap my mind around comma placement, verb tenses, or anything else of the like. So bare with me and any help is appreciated! Thank you and enjoy....(Hopefully)


Patrick closed his eyes as he turned the key in the lock. This was his DREAM, the one in all capital letters, that makes you heart race, and you can breathe because it’s the one thing that you’ve strived for your whole life. When he opened that door and crossed over that threshold he’d have his everything. He was scared, invigorated, happy, nervous, queasy, and excited all at the same time. Well mostly he was scared, but happy had to be in there somewhere.

He took the key out of the lock and wrapped his hand around the doorknob. Leaning forward he pressed his forehead against the cool glass and took a deep breath before turning the knob and stepping inside. Finally opening his eyes and looking around, it all rushed over him. In front of him stood the solid oak desk where the cash register would sit, and to both sides were shelves after shelves after shelves just begging to be filled with books. This was his shop that he’d worked so hard to get; that nobody had ever believed would happen. Shutting the door behind him he walked up and down the aisles, his smile growing as he ran his hands over the shelves, the dust flying everywhere.

After years and years of waiting and saving and working, this store was his. He owned every single thing in this room, including the dust that was now caking his hands, and while he was ecstatic to own every piece of it, it was something he could do without. The huge smile never leaving his face, he went out to get his cleaning supplies. His collection would make his mother weak in the knees and his best friend sick to his stomach.

Looking around the room as menacingly as he could he pulled out a can of pledge in each hand fingers poised on the trigger and said, “So tell me dust… do you feel lucky?” He held the glare as long as he could before he burst out laughing and shaking his head at how much of a geek he really was.

After spending hours scrubbing the shelves, the walls, the floor, and because of a habit he’d picked up from his clean freak mother every fan blade (top and bottom) in the room, and the place was sparkling. He felt accomplished, and considering the state of his apartment, surprised that he’d actually done the cleaning himself. This was different though, because this was something he’d waited for, for years and it had to be perfect. With a satisfied smile and dirt smudged cheeks he locked up the building once again. He had to hurry home if he was going to make it to the poker game on time. He was running late but nothing could have stopped him from looking back to smile at the sign that read ‘A Second Chance’ in big bright sweeping letters. The name fit because this was his second chance to start living his life the way he’d always wanted to.

//

Not even bothering to knock he pushed his way into Chuck’s apartment battling the filth that covered the floor. Has was definitely late judging by the amount of beer cans, bags of chips and other such articles that tried to stop his entrance.

“You’re late!” Chuck called from the table that was the source of his troublesome journey from door to table.

“I brought beer.” Patrick said and raised the two cases he carried as a peace offering.

“Have I told you lately that I love you?” Chuck said kicking the remaining chair out for him.

“You told me that last week when I brought you more guacamole because it was a life or death emergency.” Patrick laughed setting the cases into Chuck’s waiting arms and sitting down.

“Hey that was an emergency you know how Steven gets without his guacamole.”

“Speaking of how Steven gets, Patrick what on earth could be more important than poker night? What could ever make you late?!” Steven asked so emphatically that Patrick had to laugh at the guy’s utter devotion to their weekly game.

“I was cleaning my shop.”

“What have I told you about using the C word in my house Patrick?” Chuck asked shivering in fear.

“Your shop?” Jonathan asked curiously.

“My bookstore? The thing that I’ve worked for forever to get? Ringing any bells here boys?”

“Oh that. So I guess you finally took my advice and just slapped an open sign on your apartment door.” Andy said laughing almost condescendingly.

“Nope I actually bought a place.” Patrick said trying to ignore the fact that none of his friends had offered any kind of congratulations, but maybe that had been expecting too much of him. As long as he could remember next to no one had really understood why he’d always wanted to own a bookstore instead of wanting to be a lawyer or a doctor or hell even a rock star. Even his parents had never understood, and when he had called home that very morning, overcome with excitement that his dream was finally happening; his father had told him to call when he got into serious debt that they’d be willing to help him get out of it. Patrick, a man who had cried maybe twice in his adult life had looked at the phone in disbelief, blinking back tears. Honestly, it had been stupid of him to expect much more from his parents and his friends, he knew they didn’t understand and because of that the idea of him doing something so foreign to them made them fear it, as something that could never really make him happy, that he could never succeed at. He just gotten too wrapped up in his own excitement and had expected more out of them then they knew how to give.

“Enough chit chat boys, I’d like to make some money.” Patrick said pushing his feelings aside as he’d done so many times in his life.

//

Three hours later and forty dollars richer Patrick struggles with his keys and the box of cleaning supplies that swayed uneasily in his arms forcing him to follow the tilt of the box to avoid dropping it, all the while trying to turn the key in the lock. Finally he heard the lock click and he blindly turned the knob and kicked the door open. He set the box down on the table near the door and stripped exhaustedly on his way to bed. Tiredly he crawled into bed and curled up into the waiting arms of his smiling girlfriend.

“Hey baby, how was your game?” Marissa asked smiling as he buried his face in her neck.

“I kicked their asses Rissa.” He said and kissed her neck before rolling off her, instead wrapping himself around her back.

“And the shop was it as perfect as you thought?” She asked genuinely interested and it made his heart skip a beat because that was all he wanted from all the people he cared about, a little interest in his dreams, but she was one of the only ones that got that about him.

“Perfect, even the dirt was beautiful. I almost took pity on the dust bunnies.” He joked and she smiled.

“Oh like you do on the ones here?”

“Hey, now those are different because those are my buddies. If I got rid of them who would I talk to when there’s nothing else to do?”

“The fact that you talk to them is reason enough to get rid of them loser.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t listen to her boys!”

“You are the biggest geek I know.”

“But you love me.”

“But I love you.”

“Good, sleep now, tired.” Patrick said sleepily.

“Night baby.”

“Night. Night boys!” He called and Marissa just giggled snuggling closer to him.

//

The next morning Patrick woke up and reached for Marissa but came up with nothing but a handful of cold sheets. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes he smiled as he walked into the kitchen and saw a hot cup of coffee waiting for him on the counter with a note tucked under it.

‘Sorry baby had an early meeting with the big guys. Tim
called and your books are in. Call Him! Good luck with
everything.
Love you.
Rissa’

Smiling he set down the note and reached instead for the coffee that had cooled down to the perfect temperature, where it was still hot but cool enough to not burn on the way down. Feeling the need for an extra sugar kick he went to the drawer where he hid his candy stash and pulled out a cherry Laffy Taffy and ripped it open sticking half of it in the coffee before pulling it out sucking off the coffee and savoring the taste before dropping it completely into the cup. He let it sit for awhile as he hopped up on the counter and grabbed the phone dialing the number he’d had committed to memory since the day the place had opened..

“Master Timothy I hear you got what I need.” He said as soon as the other man picked up.

“Yep last of it came in yesterday, I’ve got an extra shipment of used books, some pretty cool stuff in there, you want it?”

“How much?”

“Please kid how long have you been talking about this shop, you whole life? The used ones are on me.”

“You don’t have to do that Tim.”

“Sure I do, I was a crazy kid with a dream once too. Think of it as a gift from one crazy guy to another, after all we’ve got to look out for each other.”

“Yeah well thanks man. I’ll be over in like an hour to pick up the books.”

“It’s really happening huh?”
“Yeah if only the rest of the world was that excited it’d be a whole lot easier.”

“What’s life without struggle? Boring. See you when you get here kid.” Tim said and Patrick smiled as he hung up the phone. Tim owned the shop that he had frequented his whole life spending entire weekends in the shop just reading everything Tim threw his way. Tim understood Patrick perfectly because he’d been in the same position as him, they were a kindred spirit sharing the same love, and Patrick loved him like brother. So when Patrick had come to Tim practically bouncing off the walls from excitement that he was finally getting his shop Time had clapped him on the shoulder and offered to help him get stocked for the first time. Now he had the shop, he had the books, and the next step was opening the doors. That was probably the scariest step of all because everyone told him he was just setting himself up to fall, but if following this through meant falling then he’d fall with force. Finishing his coffee and taking the remains of the Laffy Taffy and popping it into his mouth he hopped of the counter.

“Failure you’ve met your match.” He mumbled and set the cup in the sink before going to get ready.

//

The bell over the door rang as he pushed it open holding the Starbucks cups in each hand. He smiled at Tim who was ringing up a customer. Tim waved him over as he finished.

“Starbucks huh?” Tim asked his eyes dancing with mirth.

“I’ve given up on my attempts to cut back and have resigned myself to the fact that I have a problem. I’m on my fourth cup of coffee and second of Starbucks coffee because I figured if I’m going to be such a coffee whore I might as well do it with Starbucks.”

“You kid are beyond help.” Tim said heading towards the back, “Flip the sign will you? I want to check out the used ones with you. Oh and that other coffee better be for me.”

Patrick smiled and flipped the sign before following him into the back, “Why would I bring you anything?”

“You value your life?” Tim said seriously and Patrick laughed handing him the cup.

“Show me what you found.” Patrick said knowing that Tim had found something he thought he’d really like it the used books.

“You’ve been coming here too long, I can’t even surprise you anymore.”

“Tim, I know what kind of coffee you drink we passed coming here too much a long time ago. I practically live here, now just show me.” Patrick laughed.

“Damn kid, I shouldn’t even show you this.” Tim grumbled, but smiled as he pulled out a tattered leather bound book, and handed it to him. On the front cover it read ‘Philip Anthony Michael Van Buren’ and immediately he knew it was a journal.

“You spoil me.” Patrick said happily. He loved journals, he loved getting into other people’s heads, and it made him feel like he could live another life when he got tired of his.

“I thought you’d like that one.” Tim said knowingly, “Plus that one’s a really juicy apparently.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well I was talking to the guy who sold it to me and apparently the kid who was writing it killed himself right after the last date in the journal, and this kid was well off, not a care in the world and then bam he jumps off the roof of his grandmother’s house.”

“Whoa there has got to be some pretty crazy stuff in here eh?” Patrick said almost greedily.

“I knew you’d love it. I figured it’d be the perfect ‘got your sorry as your store so you can stop smelling up mine already’ gift.”

“It’s even better than the ‘I can’t believe I see your ugly face here enough that I know your birthday’ gift.”

“That was a good one too! You’re right I do spoil you. Now let’s drink this coffee and get these boxes over to your place so they stop taking up my precious space.” Tim grumbled with the hugest grin.

“Does that translate to, ‘I’m going to miss seeing your ugly ass around here all the time Patrick.’ It sure sounds like it does.”

“Shut up youngin’ and make yourself useful.” Tim said shoving a pile of boxes into his arms.

“Love you too Tim!” Patrick cried happily as Tim just growled in return.

//

They piled the boxes into his car and then the piece of trash that Tim called his baby. After both cars were bursting and the last box was crammed half way in the glove box they took off towards his store. When they pulled up in front Patrick heard Tim give a low whistle of appreciation.

"Nice place kid, digging the seats." Tim called as he opened the trunk of his car. Patrick glanced at the huge window seats and smiled. They were half the reason he'd bought the place, they just begged to have people sit on them and read for hours.

"I know I bet you're so jealous you can't see straight."

"But of course." Tim said dryly pulling three or four boxes out of his trunk with a grace that only came from years of practice.

Patrick went and unlocked the door propping it open with one of the boxes before grabbing a stack himself.

"Whoa that smell is strong. What did you do flood the place with Pine Sol?" Tim asked after dropping the first set of boxes off by the desk.

"I wouldn't quite call it a flood, torrential downpour is closer."

"Well considering the fact that the place practically sparkles I'd say that downpour better be heading to my place soon or you might just knock me out of business."

"Shut up Tim I'll never put you out of business. Well if I do I'll at least give you a job."

"Brat! You are just asking for it. If you were planning on asking me for my expert opinion on organizing the books on the shelves then you had better be nicer to me."

"Expert opinion my ass. You put the Bible in the Home Improvement section, Tom Clancy books under Religion, and any other fiction not by Clancy under a sign that says Useless Crap, Sift through it yourself."

"So I have a sense of humor! People love my shop it has charisma. You spend hours there!"

"Because it takes hours to find the books I want. I mean Tim I once found a book called 'The Dumbass' Guide to All Things Sparkly' in the Fitness section."

"I love that book! Did you read the chapter about glitter?"

"What was it doing under fitness?"

"Because I always wondered why athletes don't bedazzle their team outfit thingies."

"I think I'll stock my own shelves you closet rhinestone lover."

"Is that bookstore owner lingo I detect, because that is so cute, 'Stock my shelves'! Awww!"

"I hate you." Patrick yelled going back to his car for the last of the books.

"Lies! Without me you would have never read 'All Things Sparkly', and your world would be a much darker place." Tim said from where he sat on the top of the front counter. Patrick just laughed and shut the door behind him.

"If it's all the same I'll stick to normal people's categorization of books."

"Loser! I'll still help. I don't particularly feel like working at my store today. So I'll work here and you can pay me in Starbucks and Pixie Stix."

"Deal." Patrick said and they started opening the boxes and placing them on the shelves alphabetically by author under normal categories as Patrick kept repeating. That is until Tim came across a copy of 'All Things Sparkly' and begged and pleaded with Patrick until he finally let him put it under fitness because, "Sparkly things make working out seem fun instead of the torture device it really is."After all it was too hard to argue with that logic. When they had finished the store looked like any good bookstore should right down to the comfy chairs and lame but still cute animal bookmarks with the wobbly eyes.

"Snazzy. It looks all welcoming and shit." Tim said flopping down onto the couch Patrick had 'borrowed' from the back of his store.

"Yep, Friday I open up shop."

"No Friday you take Marissa to dinner because it's your anniversary."

"No way, that's Friday?"

"Funny how I remember that and you don't. Let me guess no restaurant, no gift, no nothing."

"Right." Patrick said dejectedly.

"I've got you covered. One of the store regulars owns that real fancy place Renari I think. I'll call and get you in. As for a gift get her that necklace that goes with those new earrings that she saved for like six months to get and order like two dozen roses and all will be right with the worked."

"How do you A. know my life so well, B. get me out of trouble so easily, and C. prove both A and B on a regular basis.

"I'm actually your guardian angel and I follow you everywhere." Time deadpanned both smiling widely, "You've come into my shop for the past 15 years I know you better than I know my own brother."

"You've saved my life Tim!" Patrick said dramatically.

"Yeah, yeah give me your first born son and we'll be square."

"Don't I owe you like all the kids I'll ever have already?"

"You're right. Give me your kidney then." Patrick just shook his head and flopped down next to him on the couch.