I. Am. Not. Your. Boyfriend.

                                    

                                          


"What did you do?"
                          
"Nothing that concerns you."
                          
"It kind of does."
                          
"I'm a hunter, Pete. What do you think I've done?"
                          
"....Many things..."
                          
"Exactly."
                          
Patrick pulled into a shady car park on the edge of a small, dingy, Jersey town. It looked ghosted. Like it had been abandoned by a very small number of people. He looked over to his companion.
                          
"Now Pete, I need you to do something for me and I need you to do it well."
                          
Pete perked up quickly like a dog who'd just been summoned for walkies.
                          
"Okay! Shouldn't we get a room first though?"
                          
Patrick whacked him in the back of the head with as much force as he could muster, which was actually quite a lot. 
                          
"You horny cunt. No. I need you to be quiet so I can do my work."
                          
Pete sank back into the seat and huffed. He crossed his arms. 
                          
"You're a mood killer," he mumbled. 
                          
"And you're just a killer." Patrick countered and got out of the car. Pete sulkily followed him into what seemed to be more of a three star B&B. It didn't seem like it really cared about the town's dwindling economy. Mainly just about squeezing every last drop of hospitality from the hospitality industry and throwing it all down the drain. 
                          
The walls were a lethargic shade of purple, with sepia siding. The window frames were white, and broken Venetian blinds hung over each one like a pile of timber. They sky outside was a deep navy blue, stars that weren't any colour but bright crisscrossing the fabric of it like sprinkles on a birthday cake. There were no lights outside but for one rapidly flickering streetlight. It illuminated a pair of old trainers dangling from it and drenched them in darkness again, scattering as much light as the waning bulb could muster over the parking lot. 
                          
Patrick talked to the woman behind the small counter while Pete dawdled around like the curious child he was at heart. He eventually got bored of cracked picture frames on the peeling lavender paint and skipped back over to Patrick, poking him repeatedly. 
                          
Patrick growled. 
                          
"What now, Pete?"
                          
A sly grin crawled onto Pete's face. He snatched the room key before Patrick could notice it was being handed to him, and like a minnow darting into the deep, he disappeared into the mustiness of the corridor, leaving a trail of his forgotten belongings behind him. Patrick followed him, giving the bored redhead at the desk an apologetic look. She glanced at him as he walked off, stretching her thin, cracked lips into a rare smile. Perhaps she knew what was up. Then again, maybe she didn't.
                          
Patrick reached the room just in time to see Pete hop onto the bed with a huge smile spreading across his cheeks.
                          
"Mine!"
                          
"You sneaky whore!"
                          
Pete just stuck out his tongue and curled up in the sheets. 
                          
"You know the rules. I get the bed."
                          
"Like I said before pattycakes, I can share." He sang, giggling happily.
                          
"You're gonna have to go pick up all your stuff anyway." 
                          
Pete shook his head.
                          
 "You can get them for me, like the amazing boyfriend you are."
                          
Patrick stormed over and grabbed Pete roughly by the neck.