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Patrick had never much cared for the thing that called itself Habit. He was messy, obnoxious, arrogant, and loved to fuck over anyone he could just for the fun of it. And patrick certainly wasn’t an exception to that. It didn’t seem to have any values besides entertaining itself, unlike Patrick who actually had goals in mind.
However, he didn’t hate Habit. He could be reasonable, and the two had quite a lot in common due to the nature of what they were. But even outside of being murderers trapped in bodies they had to share, they had other things in common too. Patrick could never forget when he learned habit like to bake, it rationalized it by explaining how “shit gets boring with so much free time” and “who doesn’t like good food?” This always made him snicker, as somewhere during his long existence he had picked it up as well. It was odd to him to think such cruel creatures had such innocent hobbies.
Patrick also found it endearing the way Habit doodled on everything, that and the fact he left notes at all. Whenever Habit left he usually didn’t say goodbye face to face, but he would leave little notes around explaining when or if he’d be back. Patrick always made sure to disappear without a trace, he didn’t want to be found, which never stopped Habit from finding him anyways. He found it almost sweet that it had the consideration to let people know it would be back. But the more he thought on it the more he realized it probably wasn’t sweet at all, since Habit’s return was not something most looked forward to.
Patrick knew Habit was nothing but bad news, and he knew he couldn’t allow himself to enjoy him, no matter how easy he made it to. If Habit let him in, it would only ever be to get something out of him, it was best to stay away. Well, it would have been if Habit had let things stay the way they were supposed to be.
Unfortunately Habit had stuck its nose where it didn’t belong, which certainly wasn’t out of character for it to do. Patrick had a solid plan in place, use Michael and Shaun to track down the clock hands and get that tall faceless asshole off his back. But of course, things could never go the way he wanted them to, and this time the blame was all on Habit.
Not only had Habit mutilated Stormy’s body, leaving it in the trunk of Michael’s car to send Shaun spiraling, but he also just up and killed Shaun! Because why not! And of course, he didn’t stop there. He had Kidnapped Patrick, water-boarding him to try get answers out of him. Once it realized patrick still had no clue as to what he was doing, he just waited to he passed out and dumped him somewhere.
Patrick had spent the past week or so trying to get his shit together, he had to make his way back “home” and figure out what he was going to do to find the hands. He was lost, completely and utterly. He had no more defenses, no one to use, no one who would help him. He was starting to give up. Maybe it was time to throw in the towel and start all over again, but he couldn’t bear that thought.
He had taken his life plenty times before, so had Michael, and just as many times they were killed in other ways. Death meant nothing to Patrick anymore, but this time around was the closest he had ever gotten to succeeding. He put so much work in and he didn’t want to just throw it away. He has unbelievably pissed at Habit for ruining this for him. It didn’t even have a reason to, but a thing like it doesn’t need reason.
Patrick was spending another night lying in bed, staring at his ceiling, sleepless. So many thoughts swarming his mind, yet nothing of any importance or use. Patrick was so frustrated and exhausted, with each passing day he was leaning closer to kicking the bucket, he couldn’t see himself having any other option.
He just needed something, anything to keep him going. But he felt so helpless that he wasn’t willing to go looking for it, so he just waited for it to come to him. But it wouldn’t. At least, he thought it wouldn’t. But suddenly there was a knock on the front door.
Patrick’s eyes quickly glided to his bedroom doorway before he sat up. He looked over to his night stand, the clock read “1:26 am” and he began to question who would be at his door this late. He sat in contemplation for a while before the loud knocking came again. He huffed and finally got himself out of bed.
He didn’t feel like putting on his full ensemble of an outfit, but he was in only his underwear and that certainly wouldn’t do. He slid into his black slacks, and after began to start buttoning up his white blouse. About half way through the knocking start up again, even more aggressive this time. He sighed with irritation and ended up leaving a few extra buttons undone before rushing to the door.
He mumbled curses to himself about how ridiculous it was for someone to be bothering him this late as he approached the front door to the house. Once he stood facing it he sighed and closed his eyes tight, he did not have the energy for this right now. But he pushed his exhaustion aside and swung the door open.
In front of him stood absolutely nothing. This took patrick a moment to process but once he did he was even more pissed off. He stormed outside to look around and probably kill whoever was ding-dong-ditching him this late at night, but as his feet hit the ground suddenly they landed somewhere else entirely. He was standing on the stoop of a house, but not his house. He frantically spun around, trying to figure out where he was. It took him only a moment before he realized who the culprit behind his teleportation was.
He groaned angrily, to the point it almost sounded like a growl. He step up close to the front door before yelling. “I’M NOT COMING IN, SO YOU CAN JUST GO FUCK YOURSELF.” Before turning around and stomping off. Before he even had a chance to figure out how to get home, he found himself walking face first into a wall that wasn’t there before. He recoiled with a small ‘ow’ before looking around once again.
Patrick turned to see a grinning figure. It wore a black tank top with some minor tearing at the bottom, a pair of stained and worn baggy jeans, and that ridiculous ‘death proof’ hat he seemed to just adore. His head was pointed down and the brim of the hat covered his eyes, making only its twisted smirk visible. Blood was splattered across his body and he brandished a hunting knife in one hand. He sat in a wooden chair at a small wooden table, this was the dining room of the house he had claimed as his own. Patrick had been here before. The last time Habit “had a word with him” it was in the bathroom that was right behind where the creature was currently sitting.
Patrick was more than pissed, but he knew how Habit worked. He wanted a reaction, that and an excuse to do the awful thing he was definitely planning to do to him. Patrick wouldn’t let him have that, he was determined to win in this mental game and he would keep fighting until he lost. After a quick examination of the room he landed his gaze onto the thing that had brought him here. He noticed the blood he was drenched in, he assumed this wasn’t an uncommon look for him, but it was one he had never seen him in. Thoughts of attraction began to pop up, but Patrick was quick to shove them down. No. I can't think like that. Not for this thing. “So,” Patrick finally managed to spit something out. “What is it you’re covered in this time?”
Habit chuckled and finally began to lift his head. “Oh y’know,” He began while lifting up his knife, watching as he shifted it back and forth making the blade shine. “Just some annoying bitch who was getting in my way.” He finally shifted his gaze to Patrick, eyeing him up and down.
Patrick let out a quiet scoff and crossed his arms. “Am I going to be the next ‘annoying bitch’ you kill?” He questioned with a sarcastic tone. This only made Habit giggle to itself more. Patrick was struggling more and more to not lash out. He gritted his teeth and continued to stare down Habit, waiting for a response.
“Now why would I do that?” Habit answered with mocking dismay. “Do you really think that of me?” He began to fake pout, putting a hand up to his chest and frowning. Patrick refused to respond, only scowling at him. Habit sighed dramatically “Aw c’mon, what’s the matter?” Patrick’s expression didn’t budge. “Damn, someone’s got their panties in a twist.” He finally gave a response via rolling his eyes.
“Can you just-“ Patrick cut himself off, knowing his tone was too aggravated. He took a deep breath while rethinking what he would say. “Why am I here? It’s been only a week since the last time you saw me. I don’t understand why I’m back.”
“Hmmm, why are you here?” Habit brought the point of his knife to his lips and tapped it against them in thought. Suddenly it stopped and looked Patrick in the eyes. “I don’t know. Why do you think you’re here?” He was clearly holding back a laugh.
“Why? I- ugh, how am I supposed to know?” He hissed out through gritted teeth, and of course Habit began giggling again. Shit. I’m getting too mad. Calm down. He took another deep breath in an attempt to compose himself. “I don’t know. Can you please just tell me so we can get this over with.”
Habit fake-pouted once again “Do you not like spending time with me?”
“Why would I?” Patrick was finally snapping under all the snarky comments.
“Yeesh, that’s no way to talk to your friend.” Habit looked away and began to fidget with his knife again.
“Friend? Yeah, because friends ruin your entire livelihood just to entertain themselves.” Patrick was cracking, he was too fed up to keep himself from playing into Habit’s hands.
“Oh please!” Habit laughed as he spoke. “If anything I helped you!”
“Help? You HELPED me?” Patrick took a step towards Habit. He couldn’t help it anymore, he was so done with all of this. “How exactly is what you’ve done for me help?”
Habit’s grin dropped as he went dead pan, staring daggers into the tall figure looming over him. shit. Patrick’s rage faltered as fear crept in, but it shifted right back. There was no point in backing down now, he might as well be honest.
Habit continued to stare blankly before he opened his mouth again. “Y’know, I don’t appreciate your attitude.” His voice was monotone and serious.
“Oh yeah?” Patrick took another step closer. “Well I don’t appreciate you FUCKING UP everything that I had planned and RUINING MY LIF-“ Patrick was cut off before he could finish his rant. Habit threw himself out of his chair, lunging at Patrick. Patrick was far taller, but his body was thin and frail. Habit not only had a vessel with actual muscle, but heightened strength as a perk of his possession and his connection to his host, Evan. It wasn’t at all difficult for Habit to overpower him, pinning him to the wall with his hand grasped firmly around his throat.
Due to Evan’s short stature, Habit had to reach up to get a hold on Patrick’s neck. However the shock and strain caused Patrick’s knees to buckle in slightly, somewhat shortening the gap in height. Patrick’s eyes were shut tight initially, but as he pressed into the wall he opened them again. He looked down, eyes shifting rapidly. He was gasping helplessly for air and Habit was only tightening his grip. The pain of his throat being forcibly closed, the breathlessness, the way Habit stared deep into his eyes with a smile spreading across his face, the look and feel and smell of the wet blood that covered Habit’s form, it was all too much. Patrick tried and failed to suppress his desires that bleed into his thoughts. Fuck, this is hot.
He absolutely despised himself for this, but he could stop himself from enjoying it. The fact he enjoyed any of this in the first place was enough to create shame, but the fact it was Habit only made it worse. He wanted nothing more than to hate this thing that brought him nothing but inconveniences, but he just couldn’t. Habit smiled harder and continued to strengthen the hold he had on Patrick’s throat. It was so jarring that Patrick couldn’t fight off the smirk that found its way to his own face.
Habit noticed and his face immediately fell flat again. He finally loosened his grip, allowing Patrick to breathe but not removing his hand from his neck. Patrick gasped desperately for air, doing all he could to push down his desires. He finally regained his breath and his panting became more subdued. Habit waited until Patrick looked him in the eyes again. Once he did he cocked his head to the side before questioning, “What’s got you smiling?”
Its eyes were cold and nearly looked dead, Patrick knew that Habit was picturing all the different things he could do to him. Patrick however tried not to imagine those things himself, he needed to stop being so excited, it was embarrassing. He held his face as straight as he could as he stuttered out “I-, I’m not. Not smiling.”
Habit tightened his grasp once again “Don’t lie to me.” He growled. Patrick began to sink farther as he slid down the wall, bringing Habit’s face closer to his. Patrick tried to spit something out but the chokehold was too strong. “What are you smiling about, Patrick?”
The tears in his eyes were falling down his cheeks now. God DAMNIT. WHY AM I LIKE THIS? Patrick was reeling through his mind trying to find any possible excuse he could that wasn’t true, yet would still satisfy Habit. The creature eased once again, allowing Patrick to breathe. He knew he had to answer with something, but he was only drawing blanks. He stood in silence as he shook.
This silence piqued Habit’s curiosity. He knew Patrick was the argumentative type, it was odd how he was refusing to speak. “I mean, it’s not like you’re enjoying this.” Habit spoke sarcastically in an attempt to give Patrick some more fuel to fight back. Instead of spiteful insults, Patrick instead mumbled an ‘uh’ as his eyes grew wide. He very quickly glanced away, refusing to look at Habit. But it didn’t matter, his silence and the flush spreading across his face told Habit everything he needed to know.
“Wow, really?” Habit asked with actual sincerity. “I never took you for the type.” He snickered to himself again as he began tracing Patrick’s body with his eyes.
Patrick grimaced with embarrassment and shame. “I don’t-, I’m not-“ Patrick was desperate to deny these claims, but he was stopped.
“I just told you not to lie to me.” That cold, dead look was back. Patrick could feel the heat spreading throughout his body. He decided to just shut up, if anything this would stop Habit. He’d definitely mock him for this, but he wouldn’t continue after learning about this, right?
Habit had his left hand against his throat, as he still held the knife in his right. He slowly shifted his hand upwards, no longer gripping Patrick’s neck but instead cupping his face. Patrick finally met his eyes again with clear confusion. “What are you doing?” Patrick could only bring himself to speak in a whisper.
Habit didn’t answer, instead he brought his knife up to the messily unbuttoned collar of Patrick’s shirt. He gently slipped it under the fabric and used it to pull the shirt away, exposing Patrick’s lower neck and collar bones. He returned eye contact with Patrick as he slowly inched nearer to Patrick bare skin. As his lips almost settled on Patrick’s skin his deep purple eyelids shut. He waited for a moment, feeling as Patrick trembled with yearning and confusion. He grinned before sticking his tongue out and pressing it against Patrick’s left collar bone.
Patrick let out a sharp gasp. Habit liked that. He wanted to watch him squirm and beg. He slowly dragged his tongue farther up the other’s neck, breathing heavy and slow to make sure Patrick felt each and every breath against his skin. As it made its way farther up, Patrick began to shift his head back. Habit noticed and stopped moving before retrieving his tongue into his mouth. It lifted its head next to Patrick’s ear, the brim of its hat grazing his skin. He whispered in a low and breathy voice “Do you like that?”
Patrick was in shock, he couldn’t process any of this. Even if he wanted to respond his words would fail, but he didn’t want to respond. He didn’t want to admit how badly he craved for the touch of Habit. However, silence was not what Habit wanted. He dug his fingers into the sharp features of Patrick’s thin face, pushing his head back farther. “I asked you a question.” Patrick attempted to stammer something out, but it was useless. Habit strained his hand more and his nails started poking into Patrick’s skin. “Paaatriickk.” Habit called out in a singsong tone.
“Yes? Yes. I-,” he couldn’t bring himself to speak those words, but that wouldn’t do, not for Habit.
“Say it.” This was a demand. Patrick weighed between which outcome he would like more, if he obeyed or refused. Refusing seemed too risky and unpredictable, so he caved to the request.
“I like it.”
Habit giggled to himself, and for the first time it didn’t infuriate Patrick. Habit softened its hold on Patrick’s face as it repositioned its face back to his lower neck. He opened his mouth again but paused a long while without placing his tongue back. Patrick opened his mouth to question this, but suddenly Habit bit down on his neck, hard. Patrick yelped as incisors and canines dug sharply into his flesh. Patrick had subconsciously lifted his arm, gripping onto the back of Habit’s top. It was a good few seconds before Habit finally let up. When he did he dropped his head to Patrick’s shoulder, shifting his left hand to the opposite shoulder and his right to his side. He looked at Patrick's pained face with a wide grin.
Patrick wished he hated Habit for the stunt he just pulled, but it only made him want him more. It was vile. Why would he ever want someone, no, something like Habit? He tried helplessly to rationalize things in his mind but he couldn’t, desire was the only leading force to Patrick’s thoughts and actions anymore.
Habit pushed himself off the panting figure he was using for support and took his own stance. Patrick finally let go of Habit’s shirt and instead placed his hand on the wall behind him, trying to get himself back up right. Habit once again assessed the weak and shaking figure in front of him, trying to decide on what he wanted to do next. He watched, fidgeting for a while and removing his hat. He was deep in thought when a smirk creeped back into his face.
Habit used his blade to motion towards Patrick’s torso. “Take your shirt off.”
Confusion returned to Patrick’s face. “What?”
“Take it off unless you want me to rip and cut it off.”
Patrick was pretty particular with his clothing and would prefer his shirt to stay in tact, so he obliged. He began to undo the buttons of his blouse, then slipping out of each sleeve and dropping the shirt to the floor beside him. His body was thin and boney, he had many scars scattered across his pale skin of varying causes. He shifted sheepishly, clearly shy about showing himself off like this.
Habit approached him, getting inches away from his face. It could feel the heat radiating off Patrick, and Patrick knew it could because he could feel the heat pulsing through his body. Patrick's gaze shifted between Habit’s eyes and his lip, but Habit’s gaze was planted firmly on Patrick’s eyes. Habit knew exactly what Patrick wanted, but he wasn’t going to give it to him.
Instead Habit began to lift his right hand, placing the cold tip of his hunting knife on Patrick’s lower stomach. Patrick finally snapped out of his trance of longing and looked down to figure out what had landed on his skin. He looked back up to Habit, a hint of fear in his eyes. It laughed at that fear as it pushed the blade in ever so slightly deeper, slowly dragging the blade downwards.
Patrick bit down on his lip and scrunched his eyes closed. He was trying to fight off anymore crying or pleading, this whole thing was already humiliating enough. Habit leaned into him more, their mouths barely holding any distance anymore. “Patrick,” it whispered the name onto the other’s lips. “Tell me you like this. My blade tearing into your flesh.”
Patrick continued to bite down, refusing to answer as the knife traced farther down. “Patrick.” Habit stuck the knife in deeper, still only making a flesh wound, but a painful one. Patrick’s mouth finally shot open as a whimper slid it’s way out of his lips. “Say it.” The knife only gilded lower, making its way to his upper groin.
Patrick stuttered as another tear ran down his cheek. He didn’t want to admit it, he couldn’t. How could anyone like this? They couldn’t, it was completely unnatural for him to crave this so badly. “Patrick. Don’t make me gut you. It would be an awful waste, don’t you think?” Patrick opened his eyes once again, all he could see was Habit’s empty yet violent gaze. He knew he wasn’t going to win, he knew he had to give in.
“I like it,” he hesitated. “Habit. I like your blade tearing into my flesh.”
Habit finally pulled the blade out and Patrick winced as he felt the blood began to drip down him. “See? Was it really that hard?” Habit smiled and looked to Patrick’s lips, but only to tease him as he immediately pulled away. Patrick fell back onto the wall once again. He looked down, eyeing the blood. Habit’s gaze fell to cut as well. “Hmm, I can clean that up for you.” Patrick looked up to him, curious what his idea was wound care was.
Habit threw his knife to the side and it clattered loudly on the ground. Small traces of blood splattered across the wooden boards. He kneeled down, placing both of his knees inline with Patrick's feet. Then he placed both of his hands on the space where the hips fade into the waist. “What are you-“ Patrick attempted to inquire but was cut off once again.
“I told you, I’m gonna clean it up.” Habit looked up to the anxious and awkward face of Patrick. It was funny to him, how he was the one on his knees and yet he still had all the control. He traced the slowly dripping blood with his eyes as he moved into Patrick’s abdomen. His face was almost against the other before he stuck his tongue out once again.
Habit slowly traced his tongue up the dribble of blood and it wasn’t long before he reached the actual incision. Patrick flinched, only influencing Habit to push harder with his tongue. It pointed its tongue sharply as it dragged it up the cut, feeling the skin pull apart as his tongue entered the wound. Patrick was shaking again, Habit liked that. He made his way up further and further until the wound stopped and he flicked his tongue back into his mouth.
Patrick was huffing his breaths as he regained eye contact with Habit. Habit just glanced at him, smiling. “I don’t,” Patrick was searching for words, any words. “I don’t get why you’re doing this.”
“What do you mean?” Habit cocked his head in curiosity.
“I mean,” The words were still struggling to come to him. “Why would you do this? When, when you know I” Once again, he didn’t want to admit it, but it was far too late not to. “Enjoy it?”
Habit cracked up again, as he so often does. “Oh Patrick, you think I’m doing this for your enjoyment?” It teased “I’m doing this for my enjoyment. You’re just lucky that you like it too.”
“Would you do this if I didn’t like it?”
“Hmm, good question.” Habit’s hands fell slightly further down on Patrick’s hips as he eased, searching for an answer. “Probably not. It’s more fun when you do.” He grinned at Patrick, almost kindly, but Patrick knew better than to believe it really was.
“You know I hate you. Even if you… pleased me. I don’t want anything to do with you.” Patrick’s logic was finally reforming and taking back hold of his words.
“Rude.” Habit replied standoffishly. “I know you think I completely ruined everything for you, but I really didn’t.”
Patrick scoffed “I’m not stupid enough to start blindly believing you just because of this.”
Habit moved his hands down lower and gripped the top of Patrick pants, looking up at him with what seemed to be an attempt at puppy dog eyes. “Reallyyy?” He asked with what was clearly fake sorrow.
Patrick paused. “Yes. Really.”
“Aw man.” Habit rolled his eyes. “Well, I guess that’s the smart thing to do.”
“Are you going to get off of me or…”
Habit finally let go and stood himself back up. He put his hands on his own hips and watched as Patrick picked his shirt back up. “Guess we got a bit derailed there, huh?” He snickered to himself before quietly repeating “Railed.”
Patrick sneered “We didn’t-“
“Yeah but I bet you wish we did.” Habit interrupted with a toothy smirk. Patrick shot him another death glare. “Anyways, I should get on to what I actually brought you here for.”
Habit went on a tangent about how at this point they both want the same thing, which is to be rid of ‘stick-in-the-mud’. There’s no point in trying to oppose each other when their goal is the same. Patrick deflected with rebuttals of how ‘If you really thought that then why would you fuck up what I had going?’ To which Habit explained how it was a shitty plan in the first place and the two of them could easily come up with something better.
The two bickered back and forth for a bit but finally Patrick agreed to Habit’s offer of working together. “Great! I knew you would agree. Y’know even without the whole, uh..” He eyed Patrick up and down. “Without all of that.” Patrick rolled his eyes. “But hey, if we’re working together there can be plenty more where that came from.” Habit winked at Patrick, making him chuckle.
“Don’t push your luck. I can always change my mind.”
“Yeahh but, you won’t.” Patrick wouldn’t say it, but he was right. He wouldn’t.
Patrick glanced around before his eyes fell to the front door. “It’s late. If that was all you wanted to discuss then I should head home.” He glanced back to Habit.
“Awww, you don’t wanna stay the night?” Habit clasped his hand together and shook his head sadly in a cartoonishly dramatic way.
“I think I’ve had plenty of you for tonight.” Patrick called over his shoulder as he made his way to the door.
“Alright, alright. But this was fun. Let’s do it again sometime, k?” Habit requested as he followed Patrick to the door.
“You’re clingy, you know that?”
Habit gasped loudly “What? No I am not.” He crossed his arms and looked away angrily, he seemed to still be purposefully dramatic and joking but patrick could sense a bit of truth slipping in.
“Sure you aren’t.” Patrick turned around, twisting the door handle and pushing the door open. He began to step out but suddenly Habit called out.
“Oh! Wait! One last thing.” Habit rushed over and gave Patrick a quick peck on the lips. “Since I know you wanted it so bad and you cooperated so well.” Patrick blushed, shocked Habit would actually be considerate enough to do something like that, but before Patrick could start to question if Habit was actually capable of being kind he yelled out “BYYEEE” and shoved Patrick out the door and onto his back.
Patrick groaned and rubbed his temples. He was certainly going to be sore in a few different places tomorrow. He slowly sat up and glanced around realizing he was back outside of his own house. It was still night, probably not the same night it had been when he first opened the door, but it was still night. Patrick stood up and dusted himself off, realizing he should probably bandage up that cut. He sighed as he gripped the door handle, but something in him couldn’t help but smile.