#patrick zweig fluff

[bruisedboys]

patrick zweig x fem!reader, 1.5k words (18+) ⭑ in which — patrick gets a surprise when he comes home from training to find you’ve missed him. a lot.

a/n: not proper smut but nsfw warning anyway, mdni !! guys…im feeling hashtag freaky about him

In your defense, it’s not your fault. 

It’s not your fault that you miss Patrick so much. It’s not your fault that he’s been gone all day and you’ve been stuck at home with nothing to do but miss him. It’s not your fault that he’s got a big match coming up that he’s been training for over the past two weeks, gone every day from early morning til late at night. And it’s certainly not your fault that you haven’t had sex with him in a whole week and a half because he’s been too exhausted every night to do anything but collapse into bed, dead to the world. 

It’s also not your fault that Patrick’s pillow smells so strongly of him. 

You’re lying on his side of the bed, totally morose, feeling pathetic and needy. You started on your side of the bed but slowly inched over until you were on his, your face smushed into his pillow. You’re wearing one of Patrick’s big soft tshirts; his cologne lingers on the collar and makes you feel so much worse.

He texted you an hour ago. 

I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’ll be home late again tonight. 

You’d gotten mad and thrown your phone across the room. It’s still in the corner on the floor. You haven’t bothered to pick it up. 

You’re not mad at him, exactly. And you know it’s selfish to be this greedy about him. You knew exactly what you were getting into when you first started dating; he’s totally dedicated to tennis and that’s perfectly okay. And any time he’s not playing tennis, he’s with you, so it’s not like he’s abandoned you. And it’s not like he’s purposefully not prioritising you. He’s just busy, but once this match is over he’ll be a free man again. So really, you should be satisfied. 

You’re decidedly not satisfied.

You bury your face in Patrick’s pillow and breathe in his scent. His strong, heady cologne, his coconut shampoo. It’s intoxicating. Almost as if he’s right here with you, as if he could wrap his arms around you and kiss you hard and make you feel good, give you the one thing you’re craving.

A dull ache has built between your legs at the thought alone.

Then you remember; he’s not here at all. You lift your head from his pillow, dejected. Your body thrums with want. You think about Patrick and imagine what he’s doing right now — he’s definitely wearing those tiny shorts he always wears for training, the ones that ride up his muscular thighs in a way that makes you clench your own thighs together every time. He’s probably sweating, inky curls sticking to his forehead, and breathing hard, his chest heaving with every panting breath he takes.

He might even be shirtless in the locker room, slick sweat dripping down his abdomen, down down down and disappearing into the waistband of those cruel shorts. 

It’s the thought of the shorts that sets you off. Suddenly desperate, you roll onto your stomach, grabbing Patrick’s pillow and shoving it between your legs. Thankfully, he sleeps with two pillows, and the one underneath smells just as strongly of him as the one now pushed between your legs. 

The lump of the pillow in between your legs is enough to make your core throb. Paired with Patrick’s second pillow, which you’ve buried your nose in to breathe in his scent, and his shirt clothing your otherwise bare chest, you’re suddenly awash with a tidal wave of almost carnal desire.

You roll your hips into the pillow once, slowly, sucking in a long breath through your nose, Patrick’s scent filling your lungs like a drug. And it’s not him, it’s nowhere near what he could give you, but it still feels so good. 

So your roll your hips again. And again, and again, until you’re hot all over, and the room feels much too hot, too, so you sit up and tug your pyjama shorts off, kicking them off the end of the bed and not caring where they land. 

Stripped down to your underwear and Patrick’s shirt, you move back on top of his pillow, your thighs squeezing it as if it could make you feel as good as Patrick does. Your lack of shorts means less fabric between you and the pillow, and your hips become more desperate in their movements, rolling into the lump of Patrick’s pillow in slow, circular motions that feel just right on your aching heat. 

If you squeeze your eyes shut and breathe in the scent of him, you can picture Patrick underneath you. His muscled thigh in between your legs, or maybe his toned stomach. You on top of him, and him looking up at you like you’re made of starlight. Sweat sticking his hair to his forehead, bare chest rising and falling, and his big strong hands on your hips, guiding them for you. 

Before you know it, you’re moaning Patrick’s name into his pillow. Your hips work frantically to chase the friction you so desperately crave, rutting eagerly into the soft pillow over and over. It’s not enough, but it’s close, and you’re so pathetically needy that you’ll take anything right now. 

You’re so caught up in chasing your high that you don’t hear Patrick come in. 

He’s expecting you to be asleep when he gets home. It’s late, and he doesn’t want you to wait up for him. In fact, he’d asked you not to wait up for him. So when he drops his keys in the bowl by the front door and moves quietly to the bedroom, he’s shocked at the state he finds you in. 

You’re desperately grinding his pillow, stripped down to your panties, your face buried in his second pillow. You’re sighing and gasping in a way that suggests you’ve been at this a while, murmuring his name while your hips roll into his pillow again and again. 

Patrick stands in the doorway, leans against the frame, and fucking smirks. 

He watches you for longer than is probably fair. His shorts get tighter the longer he watches. Suddenly, he’s not as exhausted from a full day of training as he should be. The sight of you, so needy for him that you resorted to using his pillow in place of him, makes him feel wide awake and electric. 

After a few minutes he takes pity on you. 

He clears his throat. “S’that feel good, sweetheart?”

You squeak in surprise and roll over onto your back. Your chest heaves, hard nipples poking through your — his — shirt. Your plush thighs fall apart and Patrick sees that your panties are soaked through already. 

“Patrick,” you say, breathless.

Your cheeks are flushed. Patrick thinks it’s fucking adorable. 

“Hi,” he muses, grinning something awful. He drops his bag on the floor, then pushes off the door frame and walks to the end of the bed. “Missed me, huh?” 

You go red in the face. “Patrick,” you whine. You throw an arm across your face and hide behind it. 

Patrick’s grin grows. He loves it when you whine his name like that.

“What? It’s okay, don’t be embarrassed. I missed you too.” 

He takes your ankle in his hand, pushing his palm up up up your shin while bending over the edge of bed, leaning over until he’s lying with his chest in between your legs and his hand on your thigh. He props himself up on one elbow. His thumb digs into the warm, soft skin behind your knee. 

You give up hiding from him and sit up onto your elbows. You’re flustered, but your eyes are hooded as you look at him. You’re practically buzzing with desire. Your body is hot with it.

“You did?” You ask, bashful. 

“‘Course I did, honey.” 

He hooks his hand under your thigh and lifts your leg so it's bent up on the mattress. You’re putty in his hands, letting him move you as he pleases. He grabs the pillow you’d been using in place of him, and drags it across to you. 

“Lift your hips?” He asks. 

You do as he says, and Patrick pushes the pillow under you so your hips are raised off the bed a bit. Then he crawls over you until he’s hovering above you, one hand on your hip and the other holding himself up. The bed dips with his added weight.

He slots a knee between your legs. You’re holding your breath.

“So needy,” he teases softly, fingers moving inwards to toy with the waistband of your underwear. He pushes his thumb over the wet patch in the fabric. You shudder underneath him, eyelashes fluttering. 

“Patrick,” you whisper, your voice all soft and breathy with want. You wrap your hand around his forearm, warm fingers pressing into his skin. “Please.” 

Patrick grins. You’re so pretty when you get like this. All breathless and wanting. He’s going to give you exactly what you want. 

“Mhm. You just lie there and look pretty for me, okay angel?” He says, coy fingers tugging at your panties. “M’gonna take good care of you.” 

-

thank you for reading! please consider reblogging if you enjoyed xo

[goatedgeek]

PUSHING IT DOWN AND PRAYING

SUMMARY: mainly patrick x f!reader / stanford!art x f!reader - after a very complicated senior year spent secretly seeing patrick, you hoped to move on and leave it in the past. you move to college and start pursuing his best friend art and with patrick coming to visit his new girlfriend tashi, ignoring your past with him becomes difficult.

WARNINGS: 18+ ! infidelity, drunk consensual sex, fingering, internalized guilt, emotionally neglectful parents - there is not much smut in this it’s more so angst with some fluff ! reader and patrick lowkey being evil

WC: 20.4k

A/N: started this in august and almost left this in the drafts but i just reread/edited it again and felt like posting it. there is def some grammatical errors, this shit is long af so pleasee ignore that lol. hope y’all like :p

part 2 - here

masterlist

you and patrick had been hooking up the entirety of your senior year in highschool. the guy you had always pegged to be a egotistical jerk, was an entirely different person in private. you'd rarely speak to eachother in the halls, he'd practically ignore your presence in public and you had to find that out the hard way. he wouldn't so much as look in your direction at school.

but when it was just the two of you, his eyes were glued to yours. like he was studying every feature to compensate for the ignored glances in school. he'd hold you close, kissing your forehead, caressing your skin. just to end the night with "see you around".

it was like you were just a distraction for him to indulge in when he was bored and then ignore until he felt like hooking up again. it was degrading. but something about patrick kept you coming back, and you hated yourself for it.

the intimate nights spent together, you were practically a couple in private. your feelings about the relationship were complicated. part of you enjoyed that what you had was shared just between you two, but on the other hand, patrick refusing to put a label on it and how insistent he was on keeping it a secret was crushing. his actions contradicting his words, leaving you to believe he was ashamed of you.

constantly criticizing yourself for letting patrick treat you like an option, but you couldn't help but hold onto that sweet side he'd only let out when alone with you. in a way it made you feel special. sure he'd ignore you in public, but only you knew how affectionate he really was. how sweet he could be, how that smug cocky persona was just a front he'd keep up for others, only to unravel it all for you.

after each night together, you'd feel empty. realizing that time spent wasn't as worth it as you thought it would be. that tomorrow he'd walk past you without batting an eye, acting like he'd never met you despite being the only person who knew you truly to your core.

your senior year was spent reliving the same lesson without learning. watching your phone light up with a text from patrick, pacing your room deciding whether you should ignore it or answer, but you'd always end up caving. biking to his house late in the afternoon, doing that stupid knock you two came up with some random night—knocking twice, and then twice again—spending the evening together, being treated like a girlfriend only to be reminded before leaving "still don't tell anybody about this".

you had a hard time wrapping your head around why he was so adamant about keeping it behind closed doors. some nights when with him, you'd ask him, his reasoning always vague confusing you more.

"i like that it's just us knowing and honestly im not a pda guy" he'd respond.

he had mentioned previous relationships, you've always known of him and had seen him be public with girls in the past. why were you the exception? it made you insecure to dwell on it, wondering if his past relationships were better than what you two had, more worthy?

nearing the end of your senior year, you were sick of the uncertainty, tired of being kept in the dark. you ignored his messages and swore you'd never be someone's secret again. hoping and praying that patrick was just a shitty guy you could leave in the rearview. leave in your highschool memories.

it was then that he had begun to subtly acknowledge your existence in school. glancing at you as you stood by your locker, eyes locked on yours as he passed by you in the halls. it was unsettling, and it had almost caused you to fall back into the cycle of seeing patrick but you pushed through it.

now was graduation. 2 months of ignoring patrick's messages, noticing his stares shoot your direction in the halls, and seeing him flirt with girls at school. patrick must've been fed up with your sudden lack of interest because he pulled you aside after the ceremony, still making sure nobody was around to see the two of you talking.

"why have you been ignoring me?" he asked with wide eyes.

"just don't feel like being your secret anymore...it just feels shitty" you reply

"jesus christ" he mutters. "so what, you're not gonna miss me this summer?" he smugly replies.

your gaze falters, inhaling deeply. before you could even think about a response patrick's hand moves to cup your face.

"cause' you know i'll miss you next year, aren't you going to some fancy college to play tennis" he adds, moving your face to force your eyes to meet his. of course he couldn't even remember the college you were going to.

"yeah.. well you'll see me at the junior us open. i've gotta go my parents are waiting for me" you quickly reply, desperate to escape the conversation. knowing if you stayed longer, you'd fall back into your old patterns and get hurt again.

patrick watched as you walked away, smiling to himself. feeling so sure that his spot was still secured in your mind, enough to let him back in again.

-

the junior us open.

you hadn't seen him all summer, and for the most part had been able to move on from your feelings for him. he had texted you multiple times, attempting to rekindle your 'relationship', but you silenced his notifications.

you were an incredible player, but flunked out early on in the competition. too much pressure and consuming thoughts distracted you. you knew you'd run into patrick sooner or later, the anxiety ruined your focus. you completely tanked on your second game, so frustrated with the repeated faults and missed hits, as the victory was called to your opponent you threw your racket walking off the court in defeat.

settled on a bench away from the courts, dreadful as you waited for your overbearing parents to pick you up, you heard someone calling your name. art donaldson, patrick's doubles partner or 'sidekick' as some would say. you two had interacted once or twice before in highschool, he was always kind.

you quickly turned to see the tall blonde walking towards you. "oh hey" you replied.

"heard your match didn't go so well, sorry about that"

"yeah, it's fine" you sighed.

"well you'll have more opportunities at stanford" he assured smiling.

"yeah, heard you're going too right?"

"yup, guess i'll see you then" he replies.

you nod, a sudden awkward silence breezing between you two. you always wondered if patrick told him about you two, well part of you hoped he did, wanting to feel a little better about yourself by thinking he cared enough about you to at least tell his best friend.

art cleared his throat, "so are you going to the adidas thing tonight?"

"oh uhh i'm not sure" you reply.

"ah, well you should, maybe we can talk more about stanford? compare schedules?" he asked nervously.

"maybe, i'll think about it" you replied, shooting a weak smile.

"art let's go" you heard a voice call from the distance, turning your head to the direction of it and seeing patrick standing from afar. had he been watching you two talk the entire time?

"alright i gotta go, hope to see you tonight" he said before turning to walk towards patrick. you watched as he walked away. patrick's stare burning into you from the distance.

the car ride back to the hotel was spent listening to your parents berate you. as if you weren't already upset with yourself for choking during your match, letting your emotions distract and rob you of your potential today. you hated that patrick still had that much of an effect on you.

despite your disappointment in how little you advanced in the competition, part of you felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. if you had gotten further, the pressure would've just continued to build.

you checked your messages, seeing patrick had texted you multiple times today.

- patrick: (silenced) hope to see you today, miss you ;) 7:20 AM i saw your match. are you ok? 12:15 PM what did you say to art? 1:00 PM are you coming to that party tn? haven't seen you in so long. 1:02 PM -

you rolled your eyes before shutting off your phone.

you wanted to go, but you knew seeing patrick would just set you back. it felt better to just keep moving forward. your parents wouldn't have allowed it regardless, they'd be 'too embarrassed' of you after you had tanked out so early on.

-

the remainder of the summer had flown by, all moved into dorms at stanford adjusting to the new environment, feeling at ease to have a fresh start, away from the pressure, away from patrick.

you missed the bond you and patrick had, but reminiscing about it always led to the same conclusion—that you were just another girl he manipulated and played. his hot and cold behaviour was deceiving, constantly questioning whether anything he said was actually sincere, was it as real and special as you had thought it was?

the first month you became really close with art, maybe a little too close, eventually realizing that he was into you. at first it felt confusing, but soon you began to entertain the idea. art was respectful, attractive and being around him made you happy. patrick seemed to give up on texting you about a week after the junior us open which felt like a huge weight off your shoulders, making moving on seem a lot easier-ish.

one night you and art were out late, he was walking you back to your dorm after helping you study for an upcoming test.

"oh god, you'll do fine!" he teased smiling wide.

"i know, i know, I'm just so nervous"

"with the amount of studying we just did, i think you'll ace it" he assured, as the two of you reached your residence building.

you stop in front of the building, turning to face him. "thanks again for helping" you smile.

"of course" he replied, leaning forward to tangle you in a hug. it caught you off guard, but in a good way. you both had realized the interest was mutual and ever since there had been awkward tension. you were both waiting for the other to really make the first move aside from light flirting.

the hug felt like it went on longer than it should've. you broke it, a huge smile on your face, you both awkwardly laugh. arts hand reaching up to his hair, looking anywhere but your eyes.

the silence broken by nervous laughter, art finally spoke. "so, i-" he stutters, chuckling to himself "i like you, a lot" he admits, causing your smile to grow even more. you admired how nervous he was.

"i like you too" you reply. he moves closer, tucking your hair behind your ears before leaning in to kiss you.

it was sweet and perfect in all the best ways. as much as you enjoyed it and had been waiting for it to happen, something felt wrong. you felt wrong for kissing art. you knew you had feelings for art, there was no doubt in your mind about that, but kissing the lips of patrick's best friend felt strange.

you had come to the conclusion that art didn't know about your history with patrick, he probably wouldn't have initiated anything in the first place and he had never said anything that suggested he knew. you felt at ease about that, but you'd be lying if you said the thought of art telling patrick about you didn't make you spiral.

and you'd be lying if you said kissing art right now didn't make you feel a little guilty. art was completely unaware that you were fucking and borderline in love with his best friend for the better of a year. you'd fight to push all of this aside for his sake, and honestly yours. spending so much time with art has helped you fully move on more than you’re willing to admit.

art breaking the kiss, smiling against your lips as your nose brushed against his. his hands were settled around your waist, yours tangled in his hair, on your tiptoes to accommodate the height difference.

you both lean back with smiles across your burning red faces.

"you'll do great tomorrow, we can get lunch after if your up for it?" he said softly.

you nod a few times "yes, thanks, i'll text you" you reply flustered.

art moves his hand back to your face, resting it on your cheek and planting a small peck on the other side.

you both move back. "see you tomorrow" he said, watching you turn to walk into your dorm building. "bye!" you reply.

everything was falling into place. feeling so excited exploring your feelings with art, your tennis performance had been progressing perfectly, you felt confident and happy again.

-

the next few weeks you and art got more and more comfortable with each other, spending as much time as your busy schedules would allow. ditching your rally partners to practice with eachother, getting familiar with the campus layout together, spending late nights in the library. the hesitancy and nerves were long gone between you two, getting comfortable with your chemistry in other aspects.

you and art were so compatible, like an instant click, even stretching to the bedroom. when he finally put the moves on you, you were both hooked. you'd swear your neighbours probably hated seeing art walk in the building.

a friday morning, you woke up with arts arms wrapped around you clutching you close. you notice the time, nudging him awake. he groans, giving you a squeeze before stretching to fully wake up.

"your phones blowing up" you laugh, reaching to his bedside table to hand him his phone.

he sits up to read his messages.

"who is it" you say, smiling curiously.

"it's tashi..." he says as he continues to read the message "oh awesome, patrick's here this weekend" he finished, smiling at his phone.

your heart sinks upon hearing his name. sure you had gotten over patrick, atleast you thought. being so caught up in excitement with the development of your relationship with art, it had slipped your mind that they were best friends. art hadn't talked about patrick in so long.

"oh nice" you reply, trying to act non chalant.

"yeah tashi invited us to lunch, did you want to come?" he asks, kissing your shoulder.

"ah, i've got a paper due soon, maybe another day?" you reply

you knew you'd eventually have to face the music, but it wouldn't hurt to put it off as much as possible.

"aw darn, well i know you know patrick from highschool but id love to more formally introduce you two" he said smiling. "and i know you and tashi play tennis together but it'd be cool for you guys to hangout more, i really think you guys would get along well" he adds.

he wasn't wrong. you know you'd definitely be good friends with tashi outside of the courts. but finding out about what really happened the night of the adidas party, and patrick getting together with tashi, you'd feel even more weird being friends with her.

you had been trying to fully push away all the guilt you felt for getting with art, you'd just tell yourself you are moving on with your life. experiencing college. and you really liked art, he was a great friend and an even better boyfriend.

"i know, i've just been so busy and wellll i just like spending time with you" you say turning to him and leaning in to kiss his cheek. "i'm gonna head to my dorm and get ready, gonna get a head start on that paper before my afternoon class" you say, getting up to dress yourself and gather your belongings. art follows, wrapping his arms around you and walking you to the door.

he opens the door, playfully kissing your cheek still clutching you close as you giggled. "ok, ok, i've gotta go!" you say, breaking from his grip and turning to face him as he stood in the doorway.

"alright, alright," he says sarcastically, smiling big. "i'm assuming patrick's gonna be around tashi most of today so i'll come by your dorm later tonight?" he asks.

"sounds good, seeya!" you say, giving him one more goodbye kiss before hastily walking down the hallway.

everything would be fine you thought. patrick didn't give enough of a shit to even speak to you in public, why would he care about you and art? you're happy, that's all that matters, right?

you left the building, unable to wipe the fat smile that was painted on your face. what you didn't realize was that patrick was on the opposite side of the hall, watching you giggle and kiss art, watching you leave his dorm.

art: "going to lunch with them now, hope your class goes well later today ❤️" 12:00 PM

patrick: (silenced) "nice." 1:13 PM

you hadn't checked your messages for hours, leaving it in your dorm when you left for class in attempt to 'stay focused' during your lecture. when you finally got home around 5pm, you saw it.

the first message from patrick in months. so simple but you knew exactly what he was referring to, and you could just hear the tone through the screen. it irked you, you don't even know why you're surprised, you figured art would bring you up today. you let out a deep exhale, choosing to just ignore him and not deal with it.

you finished your paper, did some cleaning, trying to occupy your time and relax before seeing art.

he knocked on your door, you sprung up from your desk excitedly walking towards the door. when you opened it you were met with art, tashi and patrick. your smile fell, shocked with the ambush—though art and tashi did it unknowingly.

you mustered up a fake smile "oh, hey guys" you said nervously, trying to still act 'welcoming' to the... unexpected, guests.

"sorryy, maybe i should've texted to ask," art said hesitantly. "but i guess there's a party happening and i figured you'd wanna come" he continued, his hand moving to interlock with yours. he was giving you that slightly curled smile look, raised eyebrows, that look of hope.

you tilt your head slightly, leaning against the door and sighing dramatically "oookkkk" you reply sarcastically, shooting a playful smile to art.  your eyes moved to tashi and patrick who were awkwardly stood behind art. tashi was smiling at you, she knew the unannounced appearance at your dorm would be a lot and was trying to be least intrusive as possible. patrick stood beside her, still unable to look you in the eye, his hand firmly paired with tashi's.

"i'd just need a bit to get ready soo" you said awkwardly. unsure whether tashi and patrick were gonna meet you guys later or... if art wanted them to come inside. "that's fine, we can hangout here while you get ready?" art questioned, but with his tone it sounded like he was more so telling you. "yeah, ok" you reply hesitantly.

cleaning up your dorm definitely payed off then, you didn't expect to host guests tonight even if it was just 2 extra people.

you let them in your dorm, art eagerly introducing you to patrick. "you remember her from highschool right?" art continued, his hand around your waist. "yeah, vaguely" patrick replied, slightly chuckling. you nod, weakly waving and greeting tashi as they settled in your dorm.

vaguely was an insane understatement. you could confidently admit to yourself that patrick knew you better than most people. all that time spent together, you had told him everything, things you honestly wish you hadn't. you liked to think you knew patrick well, but it was hard to tell with how inconsistent his treatment towards you was.

you tried to get ready as quickly as you could, having patrick in your dorm was extremely off putting. you hadn't seen him since the junior us open let alone even spoke to him in person since graduation. and with that smug text from earlier, being face to face with him was weird.

it pissed you off a little. sure in some ways, dating his best friend could seem weird considering your history with him... but patrick was with tashi, it had been months, you were happy, his opinion shouldn't matter to you, right?

art had noticed your unusual behaviour, sneaking into the bathroom as you did your makeup to check in on you. he peeked his head in the door, opening it fully and closing it behind him. he stood behind you, leaning down to rest his head on your shoulder and pull you into his hold.

"you ok?" he asked.

"yes i'm good, was just a little caught off guard, wasn't really expecting to have other people in my dorm" you reply.

"i'm sorry, i should've checked with you first" he apologized, burying his head in your neck and slightly squeezing you into a hug.

"it's alright!" you reassure. "i'm almost ready, we can head out soon" you add.

"we don't have to stay at the party super long, just let me know" he said, then aggressively kissing you all over causing you to giggle.

"ok ok," you laugh "i'll be out soon, you can go hangout with them in the meantime" you add, turning and reaching up to kiss him. he just smiles as he opens the door to leave.

he left the door open as you continued to get ready, you could faintly hear tashi talking as art walked towards them. "you guys are so cute, aren't they?" she said. "adorable." patrick answered.

you could see patrick blankly staring at you through the reflection of the mirror, hearing his weak insincere response. you shut the door and continued to do your makeup.

you finished up getting ready and soon you were all on your way, patrick taking the role of sober drive for the night. even being in his car was unsettling. sitting in the back of the car where you and patrick had hooked up multiple times in the past. you spent the car ride watching art scroll mindlessly through his phone, laughing together at whatever stupid picture came up on his feed. you'd find yourself occasionally glance up in front of you, noticing patrick's eyes fixated on you in the rearview mirror, a feeling of unease washing over you each time you noticed.

reaching the party, chatting it up with the occasional acquaintance, drinking away your worries, staying close to art and trying to enjoy the evening knowing patrick was close by.

art got extra affectionate when he was drinking, it was a cute and amusing discovery. you had seen him briefly drunk at parties in highschool, but you guys weren't close then. watching him drunkenly admire and flirt with you like a puppy was cute.

patrick and tashi found their way back to you and art. tashi rambling about how you and art looked like a perfect couple and how happy she was for you two.

"yeah so when did this all start?" patrick asked. arts smiling gaze diverting from you to patrick "i told you earlier, it was last month when school started," he said, his voice loud trying to speak over the blaring music. "well, i've liked her since highschool but we only got close at the start of the semester" he continued, speech slightly slurring as he turned to meet your eyes again.

patrick was smugly smiling, arm around tashi. he kept nodding as art went on rambling about how you two got together, pretending to attentively listen but you could tell patrick wasn't being sincere. his sarcastic expression was loud, his eyes seemingly wandering to you, jokingly widening his eyes and dramatically saying "wow!" as art went on. he was clearly trying to get under your skin but you found yourself too focused on something else.

seeing patrick holding tashi close, filled you with slight jealousy. it stung to see patrick publicly flaunting his girlfriend with no hesitation, something you wished for so desperately when you were actively seeing him. tashi was a great girl and insanely talented tennis player, but what was it about her that made patrick confidently show their relationship off? why weren't you good enough for him to do that? it left you with a sour taste.

you noticed your spiraling thoughts, your spaced out expression, quickly coming back to reality and turning back to art who was still yapping about how much he liked you. you smiled big, giving him a quick kiss.

you leaned over to his ear "i'm gonna run to the washroom quick" you whispered. "oh! want me to come with?" he said while pulling you in to a tight hug. you laughed, admiring his clingy attitude that seemingly intensified with a few more shots "no that's ok, i'll find you after" you said, he jokingly pouts and pulls you in for another kiss before freeing you from his grip.

you migrated through the crowd as you walked up the stairs. aimlessly walking down the hall, trying to guess which door led to a bathroom. you opened a random door, revealing a bedroom that a random couple were hooking up in "fuck! shit sorry!" you said, quickly closing the door and hearing their muffled complaints. you sighed in relief as you hesitantly opened a second door seeing an empty bathroom. you walked in quickly and locked the door behind you.

you lean against the sink, trying to silence the circling thoughts about patrick. the alcohol had helped at first but clearly hadn't been enough to fully erase the stress that filled you from being around patrick. having to act like this was your first time speaking to him, engage in halfassed conversation with the guy who'd only ever acknowledge your existence in private, be in such close proximity with patrick and push away all the intimate memories you had with him.

it was frustrating, you had been doing so well being so far away from patrick, not hearing from him, starting anew and getting together with a great guy. you thought you left these feelings for patrick in the past, why were they resurfacing now? when you were happy. why was he acting so strange? why did he text you?

you turned to the mirror exhaling loud, continuing to try and stifle your consuming thoughts as you toyed with your hair. through the muffled music, conversations and your overwhelming thoughts, a knock on the door re-oriented you. but the pattern of it caused your stomach to turn

knock knock—knock knock

"someone's in here!" you said panicked as you immediately recognized the familiar pattern of the knock. maybe it wasn't patrick, how would he even know this was a bathroom or that you were in it? you heard a muffled laugh on the other side of the door.

you washed your hands, lazily drying them with a nearby towel, unlocking and opening the door. patrick stood in front of the door, a blank expression on his face. he let himself in, you tried to move out of the way but he pulled you back in and shut the door.

"wh- what are you doing?!" you said, heart pounding as you turned to face him. "why the fuck are you with art?" he shot back, moving closer.

"excuse me?" you question.

"you heard me. that's real nice, going for my best friend" he continues, a hint of annoyance in his voice. you had moved away, back pressed against the door. half processing his words, feeling claustrophobic and lightheaded being so close to patrick after all the time, overwhelmed with confusion, anxiety and frustration.

"are you fucking kidding me." you huffed. "why the fuck do you think you have any say in who i date?"

patrick's lifts his head, rolling his eyes as he sucks his teeth before returning his gaze to yours.

"no im serious. after last year- us.. like what, are you trying to get back at me or something??" he said.

your mouth fell, looking at patrick with pure anger. "get back at you?" you question "jesus, you are so full of yourself patrick" you say exaggeratively. you could feel yourself boiling over, your hands shaking and clenching into fists to try and control it.

"oh fuck off. i'm just trying to understand why you would do this after all that time we spent together" he quickly replies.

you scoff again, your eyes rapidly fluttering, a lump forming in your throat as you listened to his utter bullshit. "all that time together? you mean inviting me over for a fuck and then ignoring me at school, for the entire fucking year? i mean come on we were never that serious" you start, your voice slightly trembling as you pour all your pent up anger out. "telling me to not say anything about us, because god forbid someone finds out that you were into me, cause that was soo embarrassing right?" you continue, now pushing him away from you. "and god fucking forbid, i start dating a sweet guy who isn't ashamed to be with me and treats me the way i deserve and who just so happens to be your friend." you finish, eyes burning as tears start to form and you continue to push patrick's chest.

patrick just stands there and takes it. "fuck-" he mutters, "fuck ok fine yes i was shitty but.. how could you say that- that we weren't that serious?" he says hesitantly. you back away with your fists on your face to hide the emotions. "it was more than just fucking and you know that" he adds.

he moves closer to you again, lowly saying your name "you are all i've ever wanted" he says, reaching to move your hands away from your face. he holds your hand and moves his other to gently cup your face, wiping a stray tear as he continues to move closer. you quickly push his hands off of you. "no- h- how can you say that to me after treating me so horribly?" you snap.

"i'm not proud of it ok-" he stutters, rubbing his forehead avoiding your gaze. you slightly laugh hearing him speak. "i'm sorry. ive- i miss you" he admits.

you look at him and scoff, lips pursing out of anger. the nerve of patrick, texting you, smugly looking at you and art, getting mad at you for moving on. the frustration overwhelmed you, hearing him try to redeem his awful behaviour, saying he missed you, without thinking you moved closer and slapped him.

you kept hitting pushing and punching his chest muttering "fuck you" and "i hate you" repeatedly with a broken voice. you felt so weak, without realizing your head was buried in his chest as your emotions spilled from your eyes. he wrapped his arms around you as you cried, his hands slightly trembling. patrick just kept whispering "i know" each time you berated him.

you did hate him. but you also hated that after all this time you still felt something for him. you never understood why he acted the way he did, but like always, being alone with him you saw that vulnerability he'd hide from everyone else.

patrick moved his hand to your chin, lifting your face to look up at him. his face was flushed, eyes glossy, giving you a weak smile as he again wiped your tears away. he leaned down and kissed you, your arms move up to his neck, getting lost in him just like how you used to last year. your mind replaying your past with patrick as you soaked in the familiarity of his lips against yours, the comfort of being in his arms again.

that familiar taste, the comfort of his touch against your skin. like always, kissing and being in patrick's embrace, you could feel your worries vanish. it felt like home.

you felt your heart sink as the reality of what you were doing hit. you broke the kiss and pushed him off of you. he just stood and watched as you started to panic. "fuck" you whispered, looking to the mirror and quickly wiping your bleeding mascara that stained your cheeks. before leaving you turned to patrick who was staring worriedly at you "i- im with art now, you're with tashi, just- stay the fuck away from me ok" you said rushed, opening the door and shutting it behind you as you quickly walked away.

you hastily walked down the stairs, again moving through the groups of people looking for art. your heart felt like it was missing, a gut wrenching feeling, the room spinning as you continue to process what just happened. someone tapped your shoulder breaking you from your panicked trance, you whipped around quickly hoping it was art but you were met with tashi.

"there you are! have you seen patrick or art?" she asked.

"uhh- i- no im actually looking for art" you reply.

“oh ok, hey are you alright?” she asks, looking concerned.

“yeah i- well actually no, i’m just not feeling super great. shouldn’t have taken that last shot i guess” you reply, rubbing your head and stumbling over your words.

"oh noo," she says sympathetic "well when patrick comes back ill get him to drive us back, im honestly a little tired and over this party anyways" she replies. you smile and nod, eyes continuing to search for art in the chaos.

patrick soon saw you and tashi and walked over. "there you are! would you mind taking us back now? she's not feeling good" tashi asks, patrick looking over in your direction. you felt awful, she was so kind and you had just kissed patrick upstairs, betraying both tashi and art.

you and patrick lock eyes, looking at you with concern and hurt. seeing the way he looked at you whilst your mind replayed what just took place, it really did feel sickening. you clenched your jaw trying to keep pushing it all down.

"i'm gonna go look for art" you quickly say, turning to leave and find art as quick as possible, desperate to leave. desperate to forget about it all.

"alright!" she replies. patrick just watching you disappear into the crowd.

you found art in the garage playing cup pong with a bunch of frat guys. when he saw you his face lit up and he walked over to hug you. "hey you" he said muffled as his face was snug in your neck. "hi" you said weakly. "so is it alright if we head out, i feel a little sick" you ask to which art nods repeating "of course of course"

he followed you back into the house as you walked back over to tashi and patrick. art firmly gripping your hand as you led the way.

"you found him! alright let's go" tashi said then turning to patrick.

-

you all settled in the car, art by your side leaned on your shoulder with his hand resting on your thigh, tashi sat in the front, leaned against the window drifting in and out of consciousness. guess she really was tired.

art continuously yapping and complimenting you for majority of the drive back to campus— "you are so beautiful", "will you stay in my dorm tonight? i'll take care of you baby", "you’re outfit is so cute. so perfect" — kissing you all over pulling giggles and smiles from you. you were still feeling incredibly guilty about kissing patrick, but decided the best course of action was to forget and move on, leave it behind you.

"so am i taking her back to her dorm building or yours art?" patrick asked. looking in the mirror watching arts hands all over you, his grip on the steering wheel tightening at the sight.

art looked up at you "do you want to stay with me tonight cutie" he smiled, playfully kissing your shoulder repeatedly. "yes, yes, sure" you laughed. patrick cleared his throat, art leaned forward between tashi and patrick, "my dorm building" he smiled.

it made the most sense anyways, tashis dorm building was across from arts, yours was further down campus.

the remainder of the drive arts affection grew, getting more handsy, his playful kisses soon turning into passionate makeouts. art too drunk to care about patrick and tashi, acting as if you two were the only ones in the car.

you could feel patrick's eyes on you. you weren't the type of person to try and make others jealous but your frustration with patrick consumed you. you wanted him to see that you were happy, hoping it'd be enough to get him to leave you be, let you move on.

patrick parked in the nearby lot, tashi tiredly rubbing her eyes and stretching as you all got out of the car. you all parted ways, patrick and tashi going one way, you and art going the other. art scooped you up and carried you to prove that 'even when drunk he is still strong', the lot echoing with your laughter as you two get closer to his building. patrick looking over his shoulder at you and art as you become blobs in the distance.

you and art stumble into his dorm, wasting no time his tongue darts out to enter your mouth. the taste of vodka on each others lips, the two of you kiss against the door, wrapping your arms around his neck his hands reaching down to your legs and picking you up.

he turns around, your back now meeting with the door as he starts grinding into you. you moan into his mouth, feeling his hard erection press up against you. "fuck, art" you mutter, his lips trailing across your jaw and down to your neck, your hand moves to grip his blonde curls.

"you're so perfect" he says breathlessly against your neck, causing you to moan.

he carries you to the bed laying you down, both swiftly removing eachothers clothes. art climbs on top of you, slowly planting kisses on your body as he moved up.

one arm positioned beside your head, the other moving down to your pulsing heat. "fuck you looked so hot tonight, i want you so bad" he groans, his digits pushing into your warmth pulling a whine from you.

he continues pumping his fingers in and out, biting his lips as he feels your heat squeezing around it.

sex with art was always so passionate, you two flowed together so well. but tonight it felt different. you felt so shitty for betraying art. here you were about to have sex with him when just an hour ago you were kissing his best friend.

art removed his fingers, reaching to his nightstand and grabbing a condom. looking down to line himself up, and slowly pushing in. he looked back at you "this ok?" he asked to which you nodded, moaning as he continued thrusting into you.

he fastened his pace, leaning down to kiss you. messily kissing and moaning against eachothers lips as art fucked into you. art incoherently moaning your name, breathlessly praising you, cursing under his breath.

as much as you enjoyed sex with art, tonight all you could think about was patrick. hesitantly closing your eyes and imagining patrick on top of you. patrick fucking you, pushing you over the edge. as you and art reached your high, you almost moaned patrick's name. that would've been difficult to explain but then again art was equally as drunk and probably wouldn't have noticed.

art cleaned you up, handing you a t-shirt to sleep in as he dressed himself and crawled in bed next to you. he held you tight, kissing your shoulder.

art passed out shortly after but you had a much harder time falling asleep, the guilt still consuming you.

-

patrick: (silenced) i'm sorry. i meant everything i said, i really do miss you. 1:56AM seeing art kissing and touching you like that fucking kills me 1:57AM

-

you woke up earlier than intended, but that was a common theme whenever you drank. the hangover headache hit you like a truck, shuffling out of arts grip to locate some advil and take a much needed shower.

when you finished showering art was awake, clutching his head. you smiled big as you walked towards him, leaning over to kiss his head. "feeling the hangover?" you teased to which he groaned "yup".

"do you mind if i borrow some sweats? don't feel like wearing my clothes from last night" you ask, towel still wrapped tightly around you. "of course grab whatever you need" he replies. "when you're dressed wanna grab something to eat?" he adds.

"yes, i'm starving" you say dramatically, shuffling through arts dresser. "hey you have a pair of shorts around here somewhere, it's way too hot for sweatpants today" he chuckled as he watched you rummage through his clothes.

you spent some time searching his room and eventually found your athletic shorts peeking from under his bed. you threw one of his shirts on along with your shorts, and once art was ready you two headed to the dining hall.

you neared the building, walking in and taking in the cool breeze of the air conditioning after boiling in the california heat.

"find a seat i'll order us something" art said motioning to the empty tables. you stroll around, walking towards the tables near the big open window. you sit down, staring outside. your eyes wandered, eventually catching the two familiar figures outside. patrick and tashi, they were stood outside kissing. patrick had his tennis bag slung around his back, his hands squeezing her ass as they made out. seeing it made you feel nauseous but then again, that could've been the hangover.

this confirmed it for you, patrick was just messing with you. you’re sure he was annoyed you were dating art, but he didn't miss you. he probably just wanted screw things up for you and art out of pettiness. you stopped watching, deciding to look busy on your phone, distract yourself. that's when you saw the messages patrick had left you the night before. jesus christ. sure you were shitty for kissing him last night but patrick was a whole other level of shitty. texting you all that while dating tashi.

you ignored the messages, shutting off your phone as art walked over to your table. "they didn't have much lunch options, hope this is ok" he said as he sat beside you. he handed you a container of assorted fruits and a yogurt. "this is perfect thanks" you replied, giving him a peck on the cheek as you started eating.

you and art talked and ate, you seemingly spaced out, trying to wrap your head around what patrick's motive was.

"everything ok?" art asked, noticing your sudden shift. you snapped out of it, turning to art confused. "huh" you say "oh yeah i'm just a little tired, still have a bit of a headache" you weakly smile. "aw sorry" he comforts.

patrick and tashi walk up to your table. "hey! feeling any better today?" tashi asks you smiling as she joins the table, patrick with a neutral expression sitting down beside her.

"meh, better than last night atleast" you joke, continuing to eat.

"hmm well you sure seemed to feel better last night" art teased, squeezing your hand and winking. your eyes widened looking to him, "art" you whispered with slight annoyance in your voice. he brushed it off with a laugh, tashi giving a short awkward laugh in response. patrick's eyes fixated on the table, a silent chuckle with a smug smile displayed on his face. "do tell art" patrick said sarcastically, fixing his posture.

you slightly rolled your eyes but when art started to actually talk about it you quickly turned to him with an unimpressed look, squeezing his hand. patrick silently laughing again as he watched.

art just snaked his hand around your waist leaning in to whisper "sorry" before kissing your shoulder.

art swiftly changed the subject, "so patrick you've got that tournament today right?" he asks. "yup later this afternoon, probably gonna head out in an hour or so" he replies, subtly watching you closely.

you were checked out of the conversation, growing increasingly agitated. still hungover, annoyed with patrick, upset that art almost spilled your sex life confidently—especially around people he was under the impression you didn't know well.

you stuck around for a little while longer, getting up once you finished your food. "i'm gonna head to my dorm i'm tired" you said, art looking up at you from his seat concerned. you began walking away, hearing their conversation faintly

"is she ok?" tashi asks.

"think she's upset with me, one minute" he replies, getting up to catch up to you.

you threw your garbage away, art running up to you and turning you to face him.

"what's wrong" he asks, holding both of your hands in his.

"well I'm not gonna lie i didn't appreciate how comfortable you were with sharing our sex life with others," you admit. "like have you done it before?" you ask. his eyes trail off humming low. you got your answer. "really art?" you say disappointed.

"yeah..." he admits hesitantly, "I'm sorry i didn't realize this was important to you" he apologizes.

you sigh deep "it is important to me, i don't want other people hearing about our sex life, we're not just hooking up art we're dating." you say with an upset tone.

"i know that, im really sorry it won't happen again" he reassures, pulling you into a hug you weakly reciprocated. your eyes wandering to patrick who's of course attentively watching you and art.

"please don't be upset with me" art says, still holding you close. you break from the hug looking to art. "i'll get over it i just need a bit ok?" you reply, art nods in reply giving you a quick kiss.

you turn to leave and head to your dorm. maybe it wasn't fair for you to be upset about this when you had gone behind his back doing worse, when you had withheld your history with patrick. maybe being upset with art over this was your way of trying to feel better about your lies. regardless, avoiding them all felt like the best way to ground yourself. you hoped things would just go back to normal when patrick left.

-

you napped for an hour, looked over your syllabus a good 5 times getting organized, trying to find anything to do to occupy your time, distract yourself.

-

art: is there anything i can do to make you feel better? 12:08 PM

you: think i'm just gonna relax today, i'll text you later. thanks though ❤️ 12:30 PM

-

you sat around for a few more hours, scrolling through your phone, colour coded your closet, stared at patrick's texts for a bit, got a head start on next weeks assignments, napped again.

by now it was around 7pm, the overthinking was debilitating. you just layed around, turning on some music to absorb the silence. then there was that familiar knock again.

knock knock. knock knock.

you shot up, stomach turning again. you moved off the bed to the door, slowly opening it to see patrick. at first you wondered how he had found your dorm but remembered yesterday.

"what are yo-" you try to ask but he cuts you off

"can i come in?" he asks.

"what? no! patrick why are you here, i thought you had a tournament?" you quickly reply. he just ignores your protest, pushing the door open and letting himself in. "jesus" you mutter.

he scans your body, noticing arts tennis academy shirt that's seemingly way to big for you.

"why are you ignoring my texts?" he asks.

"seriously? patrick i don't want to deal with this shit right now." you complain, pinching your forehead in annoyance.

"please." he begs, inching closer to you.

"i'm ignoring your messages because i am in a relationship, you are aswell" you reply firmly. "last night shouldn't have happened" you add looking away.

"fuck that, you wouldn't have kissed me, why are you pretending you don't want this?" he retorts. "art doesn't know you like i do"

"patrick." you protest

"he doesn't. i can see it"

"jesus christ patrick why are you doing this?"

"because-" he starts, but you cut him off.

"no patrick, like i said last night, being with you or whatever the fuck we were, was draining. why now that i'm happy do you decide to do this?" you shout. "texting me saying it kills you to see art kissing me, how do you think i felt seeing you publicly be with tashi? finding out you and art made out with her hours after you texted me saying you missed me?" you kept going, he just stood in front of you in defeat. "despite how shitty you treated me, i was in love with you. just waiting for you to be as all in as i was. it killed me to constantly wonder why i wasn't good enough for you to make me your public girlfriend let alone even fucking speak to me in public" you finished.

patrick backed up, leaning against the edge of your bed as you spoke. "you loved me?" he asked quietly, he couldn't look at you, his stare stuck on the floor, biting the inside of his cheek.

"yes i did" you reply, softening your tone. it felt good to speak your mind, you had imagined blowing up on patrick like this before, getting it all out there, it was relieving.

he looked up at you, your face still tight in anger. "do- do you still?" he asked low. you stayed quiet, the better part of you wanted to say no, after all this time and everything you went through, the answer should be no, but you couldn't answer him. better yet, you didn't want to answer him, deep down you knew there'd always be a part of you that loved patrick, even if you shouldn't.

"hm" he said, watching as the once angry expression on your face returned to blank.

"i know the way i treated you was horrible, i hate that i made you think you weren't special because god, you mean so much to me" he started, "i'm glad that you are happy now, i just wish it was me  in arts position" he admits

"patrick... i- i dont understand why you are saying all of this now." you interject, moving closer to him. you aren't being hostile anymore, as much as this all pisses you off, you are sick of being angry. you want closure.

"i know. i wish i would've said something sooner, done it differently." he says "listen i know youre with art, but be honest with me..." he continues, he gets up to stand in front of you, his voice is shakey. "is it too late?"

your heart is pounding. "ye- i- fuck i don't know" you stutter. "like fuck, patrick, what about tashi?" and what about art, you thought. how could you hurt him when he's been nothing but good to you.

"i know."

"like, how would i be able to trust you after all this. i saw you and tashi this morning, you two look... happy together"

"sure.. but, she isn't you."  his hands move to your waist, looking down at you. hearing his words leave a bitter taste on your tongue, brows furrowing as his hand slips up to gently hold your face. "i meant it when i said you're all i want"

your lip starts to tremble, closing your eyes as you feel the tears start to swell.

"a few weeks ago marks a year since we first started hanging out, you remember?" patrick whispers his hands moving up to your head pulling you into an embrace. you just accept it, tears streaming down your face. "hm?" he hums, leaning down and kissing your head. your heart fluttering as you allow the brushed aside memories to flood back.

"of course i remember" you whisper back, sniffling. patrick just smiles, caressing your hair.

-

it was mid september, around 8:00pm

you had biked to the outdoor tennis court after an argument with your parents. tirelessly practicing your serve, taking out your anger with each hit aggressively grunting.

that outdoor court was an outlet for you, witnessing numerous breakdowns. it was usually busy during the day so you'd frequently choose to practice at night.

patrick must've had the same idea that night, heading over hoping to have free access to an empty court, but instead he saw you. he immediately noticed your visible agitation, watching curiously from a distance.

"fuck" you yell as you whacked the ball, feeling a sharp pain in your arm.

patrick walked up to the gate, "practicing while pissed is never a good idea" he shouts from across the court.

you look up squinting, trying to make out the figure approaching you as your chest heaves. you fixed your posture, wiping the beads of sweat from your forehead.

as he got closer you continued to scan his familiar features. a tall guy with dark curls, carrying a tennis bag, flashing you a smirk. patrick zweig.

"you hurt?" he asked, looking you up and down.

"i'm fine, probably just pulled a muscle or something"

"fuck i bet, with the way you were swinging that racket" he chuckled, earning a slight smile from you.

"patrick right?"

"yeah, how'd you know?" his smile grows.

"pretty sure you go to my school"

"ahh right, you are?" he asks, setting his tennis bag against the fence.

you tell him your name.

"oh no shit, thought you looked familiar" he replies

you breathlessly laugh, reaching for your water bottle and sitting on the bench.

"so why are you angrily practicing at-" he starts, moving his arm up to check his watch "8pm?" he finishes, sitting next to you.

"just needed to blow off some steam, and the courts are always empty at night." you reply "well, usually" you add.

"fair enough" he laughs. "so, what's got you riled up?" he asks.

"just some fun family drama" you joke, sighing loud as you lean back.

patrick chuckles, "i'm no stranger to that" he replies.

you both talk for awhile, patrick letting you rant about the reoccurring issues you'd encounter with your parents. the conversation was endless, patrick listening close as you gushed about your interests, cracking jokes.

"well should we get to it?" he said, motioning to the court that was now brightly lit by the surrounding street lights as the sun disappeared.

"i think i should take it easy, my arm still hurts" you reply.

"fair" he mutters. "so, does that mean you're heading out?" he asks, lazily looking over at you.

your head turns back to the empty court, sighing "i should, my parents are probably pissed" you reply. "not looking forward to dealing with that" you laugh.

"then don't" he quickly replied.

"what do you mean?" you look at him, smiling curiously.

"just hang here with me for awhile, they're already pissed might aswell make it worthwhile" he said smiling big. you both laugh.

and so you did. kicking off the weekend by staying out late with patrick zweig. a guy that came with warnings, arrogant, egotistical, player. at the time you figured that was bullshit, because being there with him talking and flirting for hours, you felt seen for the first time in awhile.

him walking you back to your house, holding your tennis bag for you as you walked your bike beside you. it was insanely late, you're sure your parents would scold you endlessly the next day but you didn't care. just a few hours with patrick and you already felt so comfortable with him.

when you two reached your house, he gently kissed you. he reached in his pocket grabbing his phone and passing it to you.

"put your number in" he said smiling. you typed it out, handing it back to him.

he stared at his phone smiling, pressing dial and putting it up to his ear. you watched confused soon feeling the vibrating in your pocket. you laughed, pulling it out and accepting the call.

"goodnight" he said, staring at you.

"goodnight" you laughed. both hanging up the call and parting ways as you walked up your driveway, unable to wipe the huge smile from your face.

-

your tears intensified as you replayed that night in your mind.

"i wanted to text you so bad the entire day... just to see if you were thinking about it too." he muttered. "you just hadn't texted me back in months and-" his voice slightly cracked "i don't know i've just felt so shitty about how i treated you- i don't blame you for wanting to forget" he finishes, his hold on you tightening.

you just silently sobbed, listening to him.

"being on tour i- you're all i think about." he adds. "and now seeing you with art i- fuck." he says, you squeeze your eyes tight.

"patrick.." you whisper

"i know, i know," he says. "this is my fault, i'm sorry" he backs away, moving his hand to tilt your head up, wiping away your tears as you sniffle.

he leaned down pressing his lips against yours. you know it's wrong, but still, you don't stop him. the kiss is slow and passionate, your hands sneak around to his back clutching his shirt, patrick still holding your face.

the pace of the kiss fastening as you take in patrick's touch, his taste, something you didn't realize you missed so much. patrick swiftly picks you up, backing up to sit on the bed. straddled in his lap, hands in his hair wincing as he sucked on your tongue.

you couldn't bring yourself to protest it any longer. no more pretending or denials, just accepting the unfortunate truth that you'd always come back to patrick zweig. patrick starts pulling your waist to grind against him. breaking the kiss as your mouth widens, breathing heavily into eachothers mouths, foreheads pressed together. you grind faster, pleasure filling your body as your arousal continues to rise.

patrick biting his lips, gripping hard on your waist as you continuously rock against his body. "missed you so much" he whispers, leaning down to sloppily kiss and suck your neck. the sensation of his grunts vibrating against your skin causes your eyes to roll back. "i want you" he groans against your neck. "fuck, patrick" you say breathlessly. his name rolling off your tongue with ease, like it had been itching to get out.

he snakes his hand under your shirt, slowly pulling it up, you lift your arms to allow him access. patrick pulls your shirt off throwing it across the room and kissing down your bare chest. licking, biting and sucking your skin, pulling pornographic moans from you. he removes his shirt, you both fall into the bed laying side by side.

he pushes his leg between yours, rapidly pulling your waist to grind against him. desperately clutching patrick's skin as you fuck up against his thigh. muttering his name as he watches you get off.

unable to wait, he moves his leg down, hand trailing to your shorts desperately pulling them off and quickly pushing your panties aside to slide his fingers through your slick. he takes his time worshipping the feel of your wet warmth and the loud moans he spent months thinking about.

he pushed his fingers in, watching as your face contorted, feeling your nails dig into his bicep as the pleasure travelled through you.

"so fucking beautiful" he whispers. you move your hand to grip his growing erection through his pants. you slide under his waistband, patrick moaning as your soft touch meets his throbbing length. he continues fucking you with his fingers, matching eachothers pace, your moans overlapping.

"shit- patrick!" you gasp. after all this time, patrick still had you memorized, touching and kissing all the right spots, knowing exactly where and what drove you to the edge.

his digits slide out from you, pulling off his shorts and boxers. panting into your mouth, breathlessly whispering "get on top"

you quickly reposition, hovering above him. his eyes wandering admiring the view, caressing and groping your exposed tits. you line his length up with your aching cunt, sinking onto him and moaning as he stretches you out.

patrick groans, feeling your tight heat grip onto him, lazily watching your tits bounce as you ride his cock. "fuck baby you feel so good" he says, words broken as he grunts.

your hands sprawled on his chest, soon moving to his neck and gripping tight. patrick looks up at you shooting a bitten lip smile. your walls flutter and tighten around him, like you were desperate to stay in this moment with him, savouring it all at the fear it would be the last time.

he moves his hands around you, pulling you to lay against him as he begins to thrust up into you. sharing shuddering breaths against eachothers bare skin as you both unravel.

-

patrick back in his boxers, you in arts oversized shirt. patrick's arms are snug around you, your head buried in his neck.

"i feel like i can only be myself when im with you." he whispers, tracing his hand up and down your bare skin.

you just lay against his burning skin, taking in every second of his embrace ignoring the revelation of what you just did.

"i love you" he says low, kissing your forehead. the warmth of his comfort turning cold. "i love you too" you whisper. you didn't want to say it out loud, knowing the consequences of what you and patrick were doing, but you couldn't pretend or bottle it up any longer.

you spent months pushing your feelings for patrick down, distracting yourself with the interest in art. but deep down, everything you did with art, you wished it was patrick. your relationship with art never stood a chance against your history with patrick.

you laid there, accepting it. that your relationship with art was just a projection of what you really wanted with patrick. but still, the guilt hit. you never understood why people would cheat on their significant others, until you were in this position. it didn't matter how strong your connection with patrick was, you knew pursuing it was still wrong. the realization that you were sneaking behind arts back and hurting him, it broke you.

"patrick..." you mutter.

"hm?" he hums

"i- i think it is too late"

he fixed his position, sitting upright staring worriedly. "so what's this mean then"

"everything is just too complicated now" you sit up, avoiding eye contact.

"we can figure something out, no?" he says lowering his head in attempt to meet your gaze but your eyes are stuck looking down.

"patrick." you sigh. "i- i can't do this to art." you stutter. "like fuck this would kill him" you continue. patrick swallows hard. "and you're with tashi, it would be so messy i-" you stop, almost choking on your words as you accept the hard reality.

"i just can't" you finish, eyes hesitantly wandering to look up at patrick. his expression was deceiving, looking like he was on the verge of tears but when he spoke it was pure anger.

"you don't give a shit about art" he huffs. your lips parting slightly as your face twists in confusion. "if you actually cared about him you wouldn't have fucked me," he snaps. you turn away from him, legs dangling off the bed. "you wouldn't have kissed me." he keeps going.

"patrick-" you protest but he cuts you off— "no. there's no going back from this,"

"if you think cutting me off again is gonna make you feel better about this you're wrong." he moves closer.

your hand moves up to rub your neck as patrick continues. his words sting, because you know he's right. moving on like that was easier said then done, the guilt would eat you alive.

"like- you're just gonna go on, be with him, kiss him- fuck him. knowing in the back of your head you've been lying to him this entire time? been unfaithful?" he says low. you get up, hands firm on your head tangled in your hair. regardless of your decision, someone's getting hurt. patrick follows, springing up from the bed, stood close behind you.

"like fuck you just said you loved me!" he shouts, voice cracking. "you can't just run away from this" he says weak.

"fuck, i know patrick" you respond, turning to face him. "this is just too much, i- i need time i can't-" you stutter.

"jesus" he complains under his breath.

"maybe i'm just as bad for giving in but fuck patrick. why couldn't you just leave me be!" you shout.

"you're the one who started dating my best friend like did you really think we wouldn't cross paths again?!" he pressed.

"oh come on. don't act like you'd still visit if you weren't dating tashi" you scoff

"i would." he defends.

"fucking bullshit, you and art have barely spoken since the summer, hes told me."

"you're here."

"jesus patrick!" you sigh, hands darting to your face. you manically chuckle. "i'm done."

"what?!"

"regardless of what happens i don't want this." you say.

"how can you say that?" he says, his voice pitched up as he fights back his emotions.

"patrick, just look at yourself. you hurt me in the past, you're hurting tashi.. i mean who's to say you wouldn't hurt me again." you finish hesitantly.

"i wouldn't" he protests.

"but how would i be able trust you again after all this shit?" you snap. he stays silent, unable to speak. "leave." you say weak. he walks towards you, his hand moving to touch your shoulder but you quickly push it away. "go! stop texting me, don't come here again just- stop" you say, staring blank at the floor.

patrick stands silently, staring at your avoidant gaze, pursing his lips frustrated. he grabs his clothes, hastily dressing himself. your frozen watching him, internally shattering as you accept it. you wish it was different, wanting to stop him, but knowing it was for the best.

"unbelievable" he mutters as he walks out the door, slamming it behind him. you break, sinking to the floor and sobbing.

sat on the floor of your dorm crying until you physically couldn't anymore. hearing your phone buzz from across the room, just knowing it was art checking up on you again.

-

art: hey you still awake? sorry again hope you're feeling better ❤️ 8:11 PM

want me to bring over your clothes from last night? 9:36 PM

-

you had zero drive to even glance at the messages, picking yourself up off the floor and heading to shower in an effort to collect yourself.

leaned against the shower wall as the hot water rained over you, the steam intruding your nose. staring blankly at the wall as your mind raced overwhelmingly. spaced out as you try to wash away all the guilt that consumed you.

getting out of the shower, lazily dressing yourself, thinking 'maybe i just need sleep' as if you hadn't slept enough today already.

arts messages left unanswered as you drift off, how you could even sleep with the sickening feeling that swallowed you whole was beyond you.

back to square one.

-

you avoided art for a few days, feeling nothing but shame. giving your best shot to try and fucking forget it all. for art. for yourself.

art made you happy. right? why throw all of that away for a moment of weakness. right?

for those three days art felt terrible, giving you your space. under the impression you were still upset with him, but really, you were just upset with yourself. worried that if you saw art the spiralling would worsen and make you physically sick.

you hadn't seen patrick, unsure how long he had even planned to stay, but you tried not to dwell on it, on him.

it was tuesday late in the afternoon, finishing up tennis practice. your peers noticing your unusual behaviour asking if you're alright, you hadn't been playing like your 'usual self', at least that's how they described it.

you just shrugged it off, blaming it on lack of sleep the night before.

as you packed your things you notice art across the court. this was the first time you'd seen him yet, after 3 days of sending him vague texts about your well being each time he checked up on you.

you give him a weak wave, worried he's upset with you for being distant. he waves back, sending a smile your way. you sigh in relief.

you walk over to him, still feeling slightly uneasy. he opens his arms, pulling you into a hug.

"still upset with me?" he asks.

"no," you quickly reply "i'm sorry." you whisper.

"no no, i'm sorry!" he laughs. "our shit is private, i shouldn't have said anything or acted like that" he adds.

you exhale deep, sinking into his hold. he doesn't know what you're really apologizing for.

the hug breaks, his arm around you. "let's go grab something to eat, i'll get your bag for you" he says smiling big, rubbing your arm and kissing your head.

"ok" you smile.

going back to your relationship with art, trying to 'go back to normal', wasn't easy. part of you knew it would never be the same, not after that night with patrick, but you felt that forgetting was your only option.

it felt especially difficult when you discovered that patrick broke up with tashi, just a week after that night. art was pissed, giving you all of the details of what went down according to tashi. complaining about his one sided friendship with patrick, bringing up the night of the adidas party again, saying he knew patrick was acting strange last weekend.

hearing art talk about the night him and patrick met tashi should've bothered you, especially since art and tashi were still close friends, but it didn't. the way art talked about it made you wonder if he still felt something for tashi, but the idea never bothered you, and really you had no right to be insecure about it regardless. you were more bothered hearing patrick's role in it.

over the next few weeks you grew more distant with art. you used to spend your weeks glued to his side, taking every opportunity to see him. now, you spent more time focusing on school, and it came in handy as an excuse to stay in and reschedule your dates with him.

you weren't as affected by the guilt as before, sure you weren't proud of it but as time went on it got easier for you to move on. knowing patrick wouldn't be visiting stanford anymore, brought you a sense of relief. and art was still annoyed with him so that meant no more patrick talk, at least you thought.

art in a sense noticed your growing absence in the relationship. you were seemingly more 'busy' and had been avoiding being intimate for awhile now. while for the most part being around art didn't feel as overwhelming, you couldn't bring yourself to have sex with him as much anymore, brushing it off with excuses when he initiated it.

he didn't understand what had changed, you seemed fine aside from that. he'd be lying if he said your lack of interest in sex didn't bother him. he eventually confronted you about it, still making sure not to make you feel bad about it.

"can i ask you something?" he says softly.

you had a feeling of what was coming. each time you diverted his attempts, it was always super awkward. you had been waiting worriedly for him to finally say something about it. despite your suspicions, you still hoped what he was asking was unrelated.

"sure, what's up?" you replied.

"well... we haven't been having sex as much recently," he starts, the conversation being charged with awkward energy. "i'm not mad or upset or anything, sometimes you just dodge it and seem anxious and i'm wondering why." he finishes, lightly rubbing your hand.

you bite your lip, unsure how to respond.

"i don't know... just haven't really been in the mood i guess..." you say hesitantly. "i'm sorry" you add.

"no no it's ok, i understand! i just wanted to make sure i wasn't doing anything to put you off or something" he replies.

"no you haven't don't worry" you reassure, giving a weak smile.

"ok good!" he smiles big, playfully kissing you all over. you laugh, but that doesn't stop the knot from tightening in your stomach.

when end of term exams rolled around, you felt thankful, your schedule was chock full. and exams nearing meant holiday break, a break from tennis, a break from art.

your performance during games had been all over the place, feeling dreadful to play the sport that used to be your outlet.

and although you and art lived in the same city, you knew you'd be using 'family' as an excuse for majority of the break—and since you had never told art about your complicated relationship with your parents, he wouldn't question it.

you felt like your grades were the only consistent thing in your life currently, the one thing you felt in control of. it became your new escape.

you saw art more frequently before the long break, feeling like you owed it to him for being so distant, and knowing you wouldn't be seeing him as much during it.

the night before your last exam. you and art went out for dinner at a restaurant on campus, to compensate for the uncertainty of each others availability in the coming weeks.

art walking you back to your dorm on the dimly lit sidewalk. hands in his pockets as you two chatted.

"patrick reached out to me a few days ago" he casually mentions. the first time you'd heard his name in awhile, and the first time art had said his name in a positive context since patrick broke up with tashi.

pretending like your heart didn't drop at the mention of his name, you remained composed. "oh, how'd that go over?" you reply.

"great actually!" he says smiling to himself. "like obviously the way he ended things with tashi was shitty and i wasn't too thrilled about our falling out, but it's been really nice talking to him again" he continued.

"that's good" you chime.

"yeah, he said he'll be around for the holidays so we might meet up" he adds.

you swallow hard. "oh nice!" you reply, maybe a little too enthusiastic, just trying to hide your impending doom and be supportive to your boyfriend reconnecting with his best friend.

"yeah!" he says. "he said to say hi to you which i thought was sweet" he chuckles.

you awkwardly laugh, growing a little frustrated with patrick's audacity. of course he'd find some way around your "don't text me" request. reminding you of his existence.

"i dunno, it's been nice catching up with him" art adds.

you interlock your arm with his "im happy for you" you reply, flashing a smile. you hope patrick doesn't try to screw with you again, all you want is to move on.

the holiday break wasn't as much of a break as you had anticipated, already being ridiculed by your parents for first term tennis stats. by the time you had arrived home it was dark outside, the car ride felt like it went on forever, but of course that didn't stop your parents from going on.

"why don't you go run off with your tennis gear going god knows where like you always do. you could use the practice."

so you did. except leaving your gear behind, not wanting to give in to their backhanded 'advice' and at the off chance you'd see patrick, you headed to a nearby park instead of your usual outdoor court.

you don't know why you're shocked, your parents have been picking apart your athletic skills for as long as you could remember, it's a huge reason why you had excelled significantly in the sport. the flame for the sport had been dying as time went on, it had started to feel like you weren't even playing for yourself anymore. you pondered on whether you had ever been playing for yourself.

you sat on the swing in the poorly lit park, letting yourself have a much deserved breakdown. part of you wishing you had opened up to art about it, just so you could text him, rant about it. you debated it, but he just wouldn't understand.

not like... patrick.

you just laughed at yourself. everything always came back to patrick, whether you liked it or not.

you stared at your messages with art, wishing you could tell him about your overbearing parents. wishing it'd feel the same as if you were telling patrick, who'd always share a recent comment from his parents that was equally as shitty.

when you swiped out of your chat you noticed an unread message from patrick.

-

patrick: (silenced) you home for break yet 5:49 PM

-

of course he'd message you.

-

you: yup. 9:00 PM

patrick: nice, how's home? 9:02 PM

you: lol. 9:02 PM

patrick: yikes so what are you up to 9:03 PM

you: at a park 9:03 PM

-

you knew exactly what you were doing texting patrick, but you didn't care. you were longing to feel seen again, needing the kind of comfort you could only ever get from him.

-

patrick: can i join? 9:04 PM

you: yeah sure 9:09 PM

-

you didn't even have to specify which park, he just knew. patrick had showed up about a minute after you texted him. he had driven and parked around the block after you mentioned you were at a park, just waiting for your permission.

he parked, slipping out of the car and walking down the hill to join you at the swingset.

"hi" you say blank.

"hey you" he replies, sitting in the swing next to you.

"so, tell me what happened" he says as he sets his hands in his lap looking to you.

you sigh deeply. explaining the decline in your tennis performance, your parents ignorance the entire way home, their comments about it. patrick listens to you rant, watching you lazily leaned against the swing chains.

"jesus." he replies. "what's the plan then" he asks.

"i don't know, i don't think i care much for tennis anymore." you start, staring in the distance. "i've kinda realized it was always for them anyways."

you look to patrick, "how's it been being home for you?"

he bites his lip, "not great either, my parents are still pissed i skipped out on college." he exhales loud. "had a huge fight, they basically said they were hoping i wouldn't come home for the holidays" hiding his emotions with a lighthearted laugh.

you give a look of concern "shit, i'm sorry"

"is what it is" he replies.

a silence falls between you for a short moment. looking at each other as crickets chirp around you.

"so how are you and art?" he asks, pretending it's small talk but you both know it isn't.

"well, what'd he say to you?" you reply. he smiles at you. "he told me you guys are talking again" you add.

"got my message then?" he teases

"you're insufferable" you joke, playfully rolling your eyes.

you wondered how much they had really 'caught up'. them being long time friends the question burned, had art told patrick about your growing absence in all aspects of the relationship?

"not well then?" patrick inquires.

"you’re telling me he didn't say anything?"

"no he did, just want to hear it from you" he says smugly smiling.

you scoff "patrick." you roll your eyes.

"shit are you gonna blow up at me again" he laughed.

sure patrick was being a smart ass and he probably deserved another crash out from you, but you didn't have it in you anymore. sitting in the park with patrick felt just like old times. it felt like your true home.

you laugh with him, returning to your neutral expression before telling him. "not well" you confirm nodding.

"i'm sorry" he replies.

"it's my fault, i knew it wouldn't be the same after" you continue. "what did he say to you about it?"

"he thinks your depressed" he answers.

"hm." you hum.

"so... are you?" he asks low, swallowing hard.

"no, it's just hard to act normal around him after what i did" you reply. "i wanted to forget and move on, but clearly that isn't working" you laugh, motioning to patrick. he weakly smiles.

"what're you gonna do?" he hesitantly asks.

"i don't know" you reply. you're lying, patrick knows. you know what you should do, saying it out loud to yourself and patrick was too intimidating.

"he thinks it's his fault y'know" patrick mentions. your grip on the chain tightens, biting your cheek.

"i thought you said you didn't want to hurt him?"

"i kno-" you begin, patrick cuts you off.

"then why are you?"

you turn to patrick, blankly staring.

"is this why you wanted to come here?" you press. "i feel shitty enough patrick."

"and is it worth it?"

"what?!" you shout.

"letting yourself feel like shit just so you don't hurt someone else?" he says calm. "but your hurting them anyways." he watches you closely. "the longer you let it go on, the more hurt he's gonna be, and-"

"what you suddenly care about art now?" you interrupt, scoffing at the irony.

"i care about you." patrick quickly answered, un phased by your sudden hostility.

"there's no way you're happy going on like this" he says with concern. "you don't want me that's fine, but art telling me about your weird behaviour makes me sad... i want you to be ok"

"yeah, ok" you laugh.

"jesus" he huffs, saying your name. "i mean it. damn how many times do i have to repeat it before you actually believe me" he defends, chuckling lightly.

"i know" you whisper.

"good."

"i'll end things with art, just-" you start, exhaling loud. "i'll do it when we get back to stanford, i don't want to ruin his christmas"

"alright" he replied

it was silent again, but not the awkward kind of silence, it was in a way comforting. just being in his presence again, fully accepting everything. you were dreading the day you'd have to break things off with art, you knew eventually you'd go back to patrick, uncertain in how it would all play out but pushing it aside would just make it all worse.

you knew you were playing with fire. you knew inviting patrick to the park meant more than just causal conversation.

you let out a shaky breath staring into the dim park. patrick watching you closely, wanting to ask what was next for the two of you, but in attempt to not overwhelm you further he stayed quiet. he reached over, interlocking his hand with yours, giving a soft smile. you both sat there, your hand in his, not saying anything, exchanging stares and smiles that spoke for you.

-

art: how's your first night home been? 9:45 PM

-

you see your screen light up, eyes wandering over the message but choosing to ignore it, atleast for now. patrick's eyes glancing down at the screen.

you hestitanly shut your phone off, sighing.

"does he know about your parents" he asks

"god no." you huff.

patrick just laughs. smiling to himself, he liked that you only confided in him about your family issues.

"i should probably head home soon though" you add.

"i can drive you," he offers. "didn't see your bike, you walk here?" he asks.

"yeah, left in a bit of a rush" you laugh.

"i'll take you back then" he replies.

your hand breaking free from his clutch as you both get up. patrick with no hesitation, pulls you into a hug, something he had wanted to do since he arrived at the park.

you melt into his hold. relief washing over you, almost emotional from just his touch that you had been missing since that night in october. even though you knew it was wrong to hide all this from art, being in patrick's embrace just felt so right.

"you're ok, right?" he asks, his grip firmly holding onto you.

"i will be" you exhale against him. "are you?"

"well- it's been kinda hard without you" he hesitates. "i've really missed this"

"i know, me too" you reply.

you both stand there, snug in each others arms. your head resting on his chest, hearing his steady heartbeat. you smile to yourself, remembering the times you'd lie on his chest, listening to that same heartbeat, slowing your breathing to sync it up with his.

the night felt nostalgic, suddenly recalling the little things about patrick you had forced yourself to forget. like how he'd purposely call you the pet names you despised just to make you cringe and get a laugh out of you. ironically overplaying the song you both had a mutual hatred for until it just became 'your song'. patrick discovering you sleep talked and telling you the things he'd hear you unconsciously say. how he wasn't ticklish except for that one specific spot on his lower stomach, remembering that and all the times you had caught him off guard in the past, pulled a laugh from you as the two of you stood hugging in silence.

"what's so funny?" he asks, looking down at you.

"oh nothing" you said sarcastically. you looked up at him with a huge grin, sliding your hand up his shirt and teasing your fingers over the spot causing him to flinch and stutter. he jerks back, smiling at you and blocking his stomach with his arms.

"oh i see how it is" he laughs and with a swift movement dives to pick you up throwing you over his shoulder.

you both erupt in laughter, patrick carrying you as he walks to his car. "put me down!" you say, words stifled with giggles.

he walks up the hill approaching the car on the side of the road, setting you down on the hood with a dramatic groan. "jeez you’re heavier than i remember" he teased.

"wowww" you jokingly scoff.

"im joking im joking" he defends. his hands settle on your waist, looking at you with a warm gaze. "you gonna be alright tonight? like with your parents and all?"

"yeah i think so, it's nothing new" you reply. he gently caresses your hips. "ok, because-" he hesitates "you could come to mine, if it's too much to handle tonight" he smiles.

you bite your smile, as much as you want to, you both know it wouldn't be right. "thanks, but i think i'll be ok" he just nods, holding out his hand to help you off the car, clicking the key fob and pulling the passenger door open for you.

you swiftly get in, closing the door, patrick jumping in and starting the car.

the drive was quiet and short, you didn't live far. he pulled in front of your house, parking and leaning against the headrest, looking over at you.

you flash a smile, "thanks for taking me home" unbuckling the seat belt and turning to leave. patrick quickly and gently grabs hold on your wrist. "please don't ignore me again"

"i won't"

"promise?"

"promise."

you both smile. patrick wants nothing more than to kiss you then and there, but he didn't want you to add to the guilt and shame that you had already been feeling. if you needed time, he'd wait. in his eyes, it'd always be worth it for you.

"text me if shit gets bad" he says, more so requesting. "i don't want you feeling trapped, like you have to deal with it alone" he adds

"i will. again thanks, hope things get better with your parents"

"of course, you too" he smirks.

your wrist falls from his grasp as you continue getting out of his car, walking up the drive way as patrick watches.

the lights are off, meaning there'd be peace for a short while. tonight felt like old times, except this time as you parted ways with patrick, you didn't feel empty. you felt warmth and solace.

sneaking into the house and up the stairs to your room, tiptoeing in attempt to not wake up your parents.

-

patrick: it was really nice seeing you again. goodnight 10:05 PM

you: yes it was, goodnight :) 10:06 PM

patrick:❤️ 10:06 PM

-

you: hey sorry, crashed when i got back, home is good so far. how's it been for you? 10:06 PM

-

being home for break didn't seem as bad anymore. sure your parents made it difficult, but since seeing patrick you felt more relaxed. you two had been texting a lot more, maybe more than you should've—still being with art and all. but your conversations were for the most part 'platonic', talking about your alternative plans for the future—without tennis, joking about what your peers in highschool were up to, how tour was going for patrick, and of course the not so fun family dinners. you were just making up for lost time, telling eachother the things you had kept bottled away for so long.

but sometimes the topics would push the boundaries, like when you two finally talked about the things said the last time you hooked up.

patrick: i'm sorry, i feel like it's my fault.

you: it's mine too though.

patrick: i was being selfish, if i didn't come to your room that night, you wouldn't have felt worse about everything for months. you would've been happy. you were right, i should've left you alone.

you: yeah you were selfish, but it was shitty of me to start dating your friend, even if you guys weren't close anymore. but i'm happy we are talking again, i missed it.

patrick: i don't blame you for wanting to move on i was horrible. i'm glad we're talking again too, it's been so lonely without you. there's so much i've wanted to tell you.

you: me too, there was so many times i wanted to call or text you. since we're talking about this, can i ask you something?

patrick: anything

you: can you be honest with me about it?

patrick: of course, what is it?

you: why were you really so insistent on keeping us a secret? because honestly that hurt me the most.

patrick: it's so fucking stupid.

you: patrick please.

patrick: it's too much to text, can i call you? i know it's late but i feel it's better to say than write.

you: yes, i just have to be quiet.

-

"hey" he says

"hi" you whisper. "so? wh- why did you" you add, nervously.

"well i wanna start by saying i know it isn't an excuse, and i feel so shitty about it and-"

"patrick." you cut him off.

"right sorry," he says quick. "to put it simply i was being a coward"

"what?"

he says your name softly, "you are the only person who truly knows me. like- the first few times we hung out and talked- i told you things i never thought i'd tell anyone. stuff i’ve never even told art."

he's speaking fast, stumbling over his words. "i've never been that vulnerable with anyone before and it was- a lot" he nervously laughs. "god i was so stupid- i was scared if we were a public thing then everyone would be able to see me,"

"what do you mean?"

"like- sure i act like a dick and seem full of myself to everyone and fuck- maybe i am, but you saw through it and i was scared if i let my guard down everyone else would see through it too"

"oh." you reply.

"i feel like everyone's always expected me to act and be a certain way so i've always went with it but i didn't feel like that with you. like i told you that night in october, you are the only person i feel comfortable being myself around"

patrick's voice cracks and breaks as he rambles on. you just sat and listened, heart pounding so fast you worried he'd hear it through the phone.

"you understood me in every way and brought something out of me i had fought so hard to keep inside. being vulnerable was terrifying, i had been so afraid of looking weak- fuck it sounds so stupid" "i'm sorry i let my insecurities fuck with what we had, you deserved so much better than that bullshit"

you weren't sure how to respond. he was right it was extremely stupid, and you couldn't just say "it's ok" because you both knew it wasn't. but it felt so relieving to finally get a real answer after letting it tear you apart for so long.

"are you still there?" he asks worriedly.

"yes, sorry i-" you stutter, swallowing hard as you feel a lump forming in your throat. "i don't know what to say"

"thats ok, im sorry baby"

hearing him call you baby gives you goosebumps.

"you can say whatever you need to, even if its mean, or nothing at all, i just want you to feel better. i know this is a lot" he says clearing his throat, you can tell he's almost crying by the sound of his voice and the occasional sniffles.

"for so long i- i thought you were embarrassed of me" you say low, also making an effort to fight back your own emotions.

"god no. it was all me, and fuck, it was so unfair to you i'm sorry" "meeting you was the best thing that's happened to me, i love you so much you are and always will be special to me" "i can't apologize enough for how i acted but regardless of what you choose to do, i understand. i just want you to be happy, you deserve to be happy"

you listen to him pour his everything out to you with a trembling voice. holding your tears back was near impossible, letting out quiet whimpers and sniffles, trying to find the words to respond, finally getting the closure you longed for. all that doubt stemming from patrick's inconsistency, constantly wondering if there was any truth to your relationship or if it was just an act—gone.

"don't feel like you need to say anything right now ok, take your time" he adds.

"o-ok i'm sorry" you muster up.

"don't apologize baby." he says with a raspy voice.

after a long silence broken with sniffling and the sound of heavy breathing, and patrick waiting patiently for you to process it all, you finally pulled yourself together.

"thank you for being honest" you said.

what else could you say? sure he felt remorse for god knows how long and as deep as your feelings for patrick were, giving him validation after enduring that hurt for over a year just wasn't right.

"i should've done it a long time ago"

"yeah." "i- i think i should go to sleep"

"yes of course, get some rest im sorry this got so emotional.."

"patrick?"

"yes?"

"i love you"

"i love you, get some sleep ok"

"goodnight patrick"

"goodnight baby"

-

while it wasn't physically cheating. that didn't matter. the texts and phone call that night was far from innocent and far from platonic. you just told yourself that soon you would be ending things with art, soon it'd be one less thing to worry about, that your awful and distant behaviour towards art would soon end and would no longer drain him.

just two more weeks.

for his sake, you were trying to show up more in the relationship, feeling shitty about raining on his holidays. you two had hung out twice last week meeting his parents who were just as sweet as him, and now you had agreed to spend the night and accompany him to his family function the next day.

you hadn't spent the night with him for awhile, being cuddled up with art was difficult. always finding yourself wishing it was someone else's embrace you were tangled in. closing your eyes and falling asleep imagining it was patrick. but you felt bad for ditching his invitations to stay in his dorm, wanting to make it up to him, after all christmas was coming up.

but first, your parents insisted on meeting your boyfriend, or as they implied—wanting to meet the boy they assumed was distracting you from tennis. while they weren't too pleased about the 'distraction', they liked that he was a good tennis player. you hoped it'd be a quick simple introduction and then a hasty escape to his house, but nothing was ever simple with your parents.

you rush to the door with a bag around your shoulder. your parents hovering nearby as you approach the door, opening it to let art in.

you were insanely nervous, art had no idea what your home life was really like—then again nobody did, your parents did a good job of presenting that perfect family image to the public. your family was well off, residing in the suburbs, picket fence and all. picture perfect family with a tennis prodigy child.

"hey, you look pretty!" he greets, kissing you on the cheek as he steps in.

your body language is presenting awkwardly, doing a poor job of hiding your nerves. the idea of art meeting your parents was always a worry in the back of your head. being so detached from the relationship the past month or two, it hadn't clicked to you that meeting eachothers families would be an obligation with the holidays.

"thanks!"

your mother swiftly walk to the foyer, your father stood behind her. both putting on a welcoming front.

"you must be art!" your mother says.

"yes, nice to meet you"

the three exchanging greetings and handshakes. watching your parents act so fake and cheerful sickened you.

"well.. i'll see you guys tomorrow" you say awkwardly.

"oh don't be silly!" she replies. "stay for a little, i'd like to get to know this boy, gosh always so secretive about your boyfriends" she teases.

you tense up, her tone is so condescending. you flash a fake smile, looking to art.

"sure!" he smiles.

you all settle in the living room, sitting on the couches.

"can i get you anything art? water?" your dad asks.

"oh no thanks, that's alright"

you just sit silent, putting on fake smiles. your anxiety is so distracting you can barely focus, waiting for it to all be over.

"so, you play tennis at stanford aswell?" your dad asks, settling beside your mother.

"yes! it's been off to a great start so far, the team is doing great"

"seems to be! i took a look at the rankings, impressive" your mom adds.

your parents continue to applaud arts stats, he's nodding and smiling, soaking in your parents validating comments.

"very talented, you'll have to give her some pointers when you return to stanford! she hasn't been doing so well, needs a lot more practice" she adds, putting on that pretend sympathetic face and voice as she motions to you.

you just clear your throat, swallowing your frustration and smiling. arts smile falls slightly, turning to you and noticing your tensed posture.

"oh she doesn't need my help, she's an amazing tennis player! school has just been a handful" he laughs awkwardly.

"you seem to be handling it well though" your dad chimes in.

you laugh, slightly scoffing at your dads comment.

"don't worry hon, just need to work on balancing your studies and tennis" she smiles.

"yup" you spat, nodding and brushing aside the passive aggressive comments.

once the tennis talk subsided you felt a little more relaxed, still anxious with whatever was to come next, your parents were unpredictable at times. they ask about his family, small talk, crack jokes—all the basic stuff.

"i like this one!" your mother jokes, your face contorts in confusion and judgement. did she really just call him 'this one'?

they all chuckle.

"she never introduces us to her boyfriends" she adds.

you cringe. she makes it sound like you've had an unhealthy amount of men in your life. art must've got that impression because his hand sneaks over to hold yours.

"like the last one," she sips her wine "she wouldn't even tell me his name!" she teased.

last one, meaning patrick. you guess withholding details about him from your parents worked in your favour, at least in this moment it did.

"you were always angry with that one weren't you? that's why you were doing so well with tennis, you know-" she starts, setting down her glass and fixing her posture. "i think she performs better when she's angry, it gives her more motivation"

"hm" art hums.

"that's why we've always pushed her so hard with tennis" she laughs.

he turns to you with a smile, "maybe i should make you angry more often then, hey" he nudges you, squeezing your hand.

your parents both chuckle, you give a fake laugh. you knew your tennis performance didn't matter to him—that he appreciated you as you were—but for him to make a comment like that just to win points with your parents was shitty. it really bothered you.

you inhale deep, "well we should get going" you stand, art following.

"alright hon"

they follow you two to the door, shaking hands with art again. giving praising comments to him as you two walk out the door.

you sigh loud as you close the door behind you. swiftly following art to his car.

"you ok?"

"yup, my parents can just be a bit much sometimes"

he gives you a sympathetic look, pulling you in for a quick kiss. "ahh yeah i could see that." "i was so nervous, y'think like they like me?" he smiles, opening the passenger door for you to get in and closing it behind you.

you scoff quietly, still bothered by arts comment earlier and laughing to yourself about how blissfully unaware he is.

art gets in the drivers side starting the car

"your a good tennis player trust me they like you, they are way too absorbed with tennis it's annoying"

"yeah my parents are on me about tennis too" he replies.

you hesitate to continue. arts parents were so sweet and he always spoke so highly about them, the way he was hassled about tennis was so different from how your parents would approach it. you're sure of it.

"hey, who were they talking about? like the guy you were seeing last?"

"i don't even know what they were talking about when they brought that up" you lie

"oh, alright" art can tell you’re lying but he just assumes it was a sensitive topic. it worries him a little that you aren't being honest.

-

you were set on being a really good girlfriend tonight, not wanting to ruin the night with your irritation from earlier. wanting to make it up to him.

"i'm glad you agreed to stay over, been awhile since we've spent the night together" he laughed awkwardly.

"yeah it has!"

"i've got a surprise for you" he grins, you feel uneasy.

he instructs you to close your eyes, so you do. "no peeking" he chuckles. eyes squeezed shut, his arm snug around you, being blindly guided into his room.

"ok open"

you open your eyes revealing his dark room illuminated by the tv, his bed filled with various snacks. it was like it was his way of compromising from the dates you'd push off or cancel, ambushing you with a movie night date in the comfort of his room. the gesture was incredibly sweet, you smile big turning to look at him

"aw this is cute!"

his hands wrap around you, kissing your head. "thought we could do a movie night, watch some christmas movies"

"yes sounds perfect"

your sat on his bed as he sets up the movie. he's going over tomorrows schedule for the brunch and dinner.

he presses play and sneaks in to lay behind you, holding you tightly close to him. you ease up, letting yourself enjoy the gesture without the guilt that typically hindered.

art talks over the movie every so often but you didn't mind. he had been busy during the break so there hadn't been much texting and it was nice to converse. the conversation was natural, it reminded you that aside from being your boyfriend he was your best friend too—the realization was comforting, making it feel like how it was at the start.

"you smell so good, new perfume?" he says burying his nose in your neck.

"yes" you laugh, jerking away as his nose tickles your skin "i used to wear it last year but i lost the bottle, just found it again the other day"

he kisses your neck and shoulder repeatedly, continuing to pull giggles from the tickling sensation. "smells so pretty"

he continues to compliment and kiss you in the spots he knew were sensitive, each time you'd wince and flinch, "hey i'm trying to watch the movie here" you joked.

"sorry, you're just too perfect can't resist it" he plants one last kiss on your shoulder before returning his gaze to the tv.

things were going good, you were actually enjoying the time spent with art, he seemed happy. you watched a few movies, silence broken by occasional laughter from his typical corny jokes that you loved, food wrappers crinkling and the odd kiss.

it was late now, art had gotten more and more flirty as the night progressed, slowly planting kisses along your skin, softly caressing you, getting more handsy.

soon he began lightly groping you. feeling up on your ass, gently squeezing your chest, all while kissing your shoulder and lightly pushing his subtle erection against you.

you'd be lying if you said you weren't turned on by it. it was never an issue of art, you were attracted to him, you enjoyed sex with him, you missed it. living with your infidelity was just too overwhelming, as much as you wished you could have sex with art you just couldn't stomach it.

regrettably, you divert arts grip on your tits, moving his hand back to your waist. your eyes squeezed shut as you did so. you wanted to be a good girlfriend to art this break, compensate for the off attitude he had been dealt from you, but it was almost an instinctual reaction from your body to reject his advances. you just couldn't.

you could hear him sigh quietly.

"i'm sorry art"

"hey no it's ok"

you were uneasy again. disappointing art felt horrible. you wanted so badly to rip off the bandaid but you'd feel even worse if you ruined his holidays. honestly maybe you already were. you turn around, burying your head into his neck, he squeezes you and chuckles. you start to plant kisses along his jaw until your lips meet with his. you kiss him slow, your hand wanders up to cup his cheek.

his hand is now on your ass, lightly gripping and pulling you closer, you let out a soft moan into his mouth. in response he grinds up against you, pulling a short gasp from your lips. your hand falls to his shoulder, lightly clutching the fabric of his shirt and weakly smiling against his lips. you want so badly to give in, you missed this intimacy with art but deep down you knew it was just a projection of what you wanted with patrick. you end the kiss with a few more quick kisses and pull back.

“i’m getting sleepy” you groan “im gonna go brush my teeth” you finish, getting up and rummaging through your bag.

"weakk" he teased "going to bed at 10:30? too early" he joked, trying to lighten the mood, art feeling a little embarrassed about his advances being brushed off.

"yeah, yeah" you reply smiling,

nearing the door to head to the bathroom

"hey wait" he says quickly

"hm?"

"don't feel bad about the sex stuff ok? it doesn't matter that much to me, i'm just glad your staying with me tonight" he reassures.

you smile, walking back over to the bed and hugging him.

"ill clean up the bed so you can get comfy when you get back, maybe put on another movie?

"maybe" you laugh, slipping out the door to the bathroom, feeling relieved that he doesn't seem as upset as you thought he was.

you brush your teeth, looking to the mirror and fixing your hair in the meantime.

you make your way back to his room. "ok we can start another movie but no promises that i can stay awake for it" you joke, walking into the room to see him perched up on the bed blankly staring at your phone.

your smile falls, confused.

he looks up at you, lightly throws your phone on the bed as he gets up, and walks past you to the bathroom without speaking. you watch him walk out, unsure what's wrong. and then it hits you.

you turn back, looking at your phone that was face down on the bed and quickly walking over to pick it up.

patrick: hey are you busy? please can i see you tonight. i miss you. 10:34 PM

your heart sinks.

"fuck" you mutter, biting your lip painfully hard. you forgot you had un silenced his notifications, his messages were silenced for so long it hadn't even crossed your mind that this could happen. and of course the message is extremely telling.

you aren't sure whether you should wait for art to come back or go check on him. your mind and heart racing, blood running cold. you just sit on his bed fighting back tears.

getting even more frustrated with yourself for crying because you had no right to be upset about something that could've been avoided with swallowing your pride and breaking things off with art months ago. being honest with him.

5 minutes pass until he returns. leaning against the door frame, face red with glossy eyes. just seeing him so clearly hurt caused your lip to tremble.

"art i-" you choke.

he walks over and sits next to you, hunched over with his arms resting on his legs, avoiding eye contact.

"i don't even know what to say" his voice cracking "are you two hooking up- are you into him, like-" tears stream down his face, stuttering as he speaks.

"i-" you physically can't speak. trying so hard not to cry because you didn't deserve to over this. you did the one thing you wanted to avoid so badly, you broke him.

"when did this start." he tries to pull himself together.

"l-last year" you say with a shaken exhale.

"what?!" he shudders. "is this who your parents were talking about?"

"yes. we- we're seeing eachother last year i-" "it was messy and complicated and-"

"has this been going on the entire time? our whole relationship?"

he isn't yelling. his voice is broken and soft, which makes the gut wrenching feeling all the more worse than if he were to yell. you can just hear the hurt in his voice. his face is full of worry, looking at you with those bloodshot blue eyes and a tear stained face.

"no!" you try to reassure

"i- i don't understand..." he looks away, trying to piece it all together in his head. "so the weekend he visited, you-" he can't even say the words, but you know what he means.

"yes i- im sorry art"

"how could you?"

"i- i regret it so much."

"wh- why didn't you tell me, why did you keep this- all of it from me?"

"i just wanted to forget patrick, i thought i was over it and then we kissed and- i was so happy with you i thought forgetting and moving on was for the best"

"was so happy?... you aren't happy with me anymore?"

"no no- art that's not what i meant" you say rapidly, moving closer to cup his face. he just closes his eyes in response, a stray tear falling down his cheek. "it's not that you don't make me happy anymore... i'm unhappy because i know i don't deserve it." "you've been so perfect and sweet to me and i- i didn't deserve it"

his eyes open, face further contorting expressing his hurt.

"i thought if i pretended it didn't happen i'd be able to keep being happy with you and not hurt you but-" you look into his sad eyes, your lip quivering. "i ended up hurting you anyways fuck- art-" "you’re one of my best friends im so sorry" you add, stumbling over your words as you choke back the tears.

"fuck don't pull the best friend card-" he exhales "is this- is this why you started cancelling on our dates? dodging my calls?... why you don't want to have sex anymore?" he hesitates

"yes-" your gaze falters to the bed. "i did want to have sex with you art, really. but- i just couldn't- knowing what i did.."

"so- so you two did have sex then?" he hesitates

"yes."

his face is red and puffy, sniffling. you wipe away his tears with your thumb, he bites his trembling lip before pulling his head away from your hand.

"do you.. love him?"

"i-" your silent for a few seconds before answering "yes" you say quietly.

he lets out a shaken exhale, wiping his eyes.

your mind is racing, wanting to make art feel better, unsure how to with how horrible you did him. your emotions flooding throughout you, unable to think straight as you watch his heart break. you start to ramble.

"fuck, and i thought i was doing something wrong" he mutters.

"i'm so sorry art- i wish i could take it back" you start. "i know I've been a shit girlfriend i was gonna end it after the break because i knew deep down i was still hurting you and-" he cuts you off. you realize how shitty that sounds as the words slip from your mouth.

"is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"art- fuck, i shouldn't have worded it like that, i just mean i didn't want to ruin the christmas break for you i-"

"it’s been ruined!" he cries out. "i've been trying so hard to make things better, hoping everything would go back to how it used to be- worried! that you were about to break up with me any second!"

"art..."

"but i stuck through it for you because i care about you and i-" he stops himself. looking at you with furrowed brows and fluttering eyes, silence drowning the room.

"were you ever even going to tell me about this?"

"i-" you start to say but you stop, you physically cannot lie to him any longer. the quiet returns, just watching art break in front of you.

"yeah i think you should just leave."

"art i- im sorry"

"just fucking go please-" he cuts you off again, tone firm.

"ok" you whisper, heart pounding through your chest as you get off the bed and reach for your bag.

he doesn't look at you as you leave, his hands are buried in his hair as he sits hunched over his lap, gaze fixed on the floor.

you hastily walk down the stairs to the front door, leaving quietly to not alarm his parents. as the door shuts behind you, that's when it all comes out.

-

you: art knows he saw your messages. 11:00 PM

patrick: fuck. i'm so sorry are you ok? where are you right now? 11:01 PM

you: walking home from arts 11:03 PM

patrick: ?? that's like an hour walk let me pick you up please. 11:03 PM

hello? 11:06 PM

-

you didn't see his message, you couldn't think straight. you felt like a long walk home was deserved for the betrayal to art, how much more it hurt for him to find out like that.

you stared blankly straight ahead of you, bag slung around your shoulder, vision blurred by the tears that pooled in your eyes as you numbingly walked down the street.

you weren't even sure how long you had been walking for, surely it had been around 15 minutes since you left arts.

a car turns the corner, the blinding headlights beaming at you growing closer. you squint and shield your face as the car approaches, tires screeching as it halts beside you.

you move your arm down glancing through the window seeing patrick. watching as he swiftly gets out and whips around the corner to meet you.

his arms dart to wrap around you, you fold into his embrace dropping your bag. the waterworks resume, tears flooding down your face as you whimper.

"hey, hey, it's ok" patrick comforts, his hold on you tightening.

"no it's not ok-" you cry, your words muffled against his chest. "he was so hurt patrick i-"

"im sorry baby," his hand reaches up to hold your head. "fuck i should've known to not text you that shit, i'm so sorry"

you look up at patrick, lip trembling. he gently wipes away your tears. "i'll talk to him ok, i'll fix this"

you just tighten your eyes shut, wincing as you continue to replay the image of art breaking. knowing there was no 'fixing' anything.

"want me to take you home?"

"no, no i cant go home- i cant deal with my parents tonight god i-"

"ok, it's ok you can come home with me tonight ok?" he reassures, wiping your tears away and gently rubbing your shoulder.

you nod, pulling away and wiping your wet face. patrick picks your bag up from off the ground, opening the passenger door for you and placing the bag at your feet.

your eyes were fixed out the window, tears swelled in your eyes. patrick worriedly glancing over at you and setting his hand on your knee in attempt to comfort you.

reaching his house, you reach down to grab your bag but patrick stops you. "i got it"

you both get out, your bag slung over his shoulder as you walk up to his ridiculously large house.

you hadn't been here in what felt like ages. walking through the dark rooms, your hand reached forward to hold his for guidance. regardless of how often you had been inside, it still felt like a maze.

entering his room, your senses were overwhelmed. it smelled the exact same, looked the exact same. suddenly 'ages ago' felt like just yesterday.

patrick sits on his bed and stares at you as your eyes wander around the room. "c'mere. i know how early you usually go to bed i can only imagine how tired you are"

you smile weakly, walking over as he settles under the covers. you lay down, facing him. his hands snake around you, the sudden warmth causing your breath to hitch but still bringing a comfort you so desperately needed.

"are you upset with me?" he asks

"no, i'm upset with myself" you sigh. "i should've listened to you."

"it's ok baby"

you sigh loud. you know he's just trying to make you feel better but it wasn't ok, none of this was ok and it probably wouldn't ever be ok.

"he will forgive you, i know he will" his hand is tracing up and down your back.

"maybe."

you trail off, unable to think of anything else but arts heartbroken face, his voice, it replayed continuously. the feeling of your heart sinking as you read the text art had seen. the text patrick had sent.

your eyebrows scrunched.

"patrick?"

"yes"

"did something happen tonight?"

he looks at you confused, worried you were so distraught you started to lose it.

"what?"

"like, when you texted me."

"oh. uhh, no it was nothing don't worry"

"no tell me, what happened?" you push.

"i- just got into it with my parents again"

"oh im sorry"

"it's alright, don't worry about it ok" he smiles, kissing your forehead and pulling you in closer.

"i do worry" you whisper

patrick chuckles weak. "i know, you've had a rough night though, i don't want to stress you out with my shit"

"you won't. talk to me"

"they just said some hurtful things, that's all"

"like what?"

"th-.. that i just ruin everything, im a fuck up, all things of the same theme" "i just started thinking about our phone call the other night and all this shit. and i dunno… maybe they're right.”

you sit up immediately, his eyes avoiding your confrontational stare. "patrick." you say soft. "don't ever say that"

"i just- i look at how torn up you've been since i visited stanford and- i cant help but feel like it's my fault"

"it wasn't your fault patrick." "sure you should've admitted how you truly felt way earlier but... i only felt like shit because i wasn't being honest with myself, you or art. that's on me, not you"

"a-are you sure?" he stutters.

"i'm certain"

"i'm really sorry" he sighs.

"i know, me too"

"i'm gonna fix this ok, i'll make sure art doesn't blame you-"

"patrick." you cut him off. "art has every right to blame me"

"i just- it kills me to see you hurting" his voice is shaken, hand soothingly rubbing your arm.

"i know. ill be ok though, ill talk to him eventually, if he cares to hear it"

as much as it pained you to hurt art, part of you was thankful the secret was out. maybe you were just sick of feeling like this but part of the guilt was finally leaving. the bandaid was ripped off, the painful weight was lifted off your shoulders.

you lie back down, burying your head into his embrace.

"i love you" you whisper into his chest.

"i love you too" he says, planting a kiss on your forehead

drifting off in eachothers arms, your sleep was interrupted by the bright flash of your phone.

-

art: i'm sorry for kicking you out so harsh, i hope you made it home ok. to be honest i'm still really pissed and upset but i don't want things to end like this. message me when you wake up so we can talk ok? 2:23 AM

-

your squinted eyes wander over the text, lips parting as you process it. you let out a loud sigh of relief, suprisingly not waking patrick who had his arms glued around your waist.

it wouldn't be an easy conversation, but his message felt positive. maybe things would be ok after all.

psst… need some closure? bitch me too. here’s pt 2

dividers - @cursed-carmine

reader was being too evil had to make it a 'good/happy' ending ish....

i'm sorry for the rushed ending i lowkey didn't know how to finish this ngl.... anyways ty for reading all this i started writing it before summer ended out of boredom and ofc got wrapped up with moving and school stuff so it took longer for me to finish and then i abandoned it oops… hope you liked it, feel free to leave rqs in my asks and ill try my best to do a lil writing in my free time <3

taglist - @cigarxttxs @museboos @iheartrosalia @challengers4ev

comment ‘!’ to be added to taglist <3

[pittsick]

MEET… KNIGHT!PATRICK.

steel scuffed and dulled from years of use. mud dried along the hem of his cloak, straw and ash clinging where he knelt beside campfires. leather gloves cracked at the knuckles. sun-warmed metal and oiled steel. scars hidden beneath chainmail, one pale line along his jaw. hair always a little unruly from helmets pulled on and off. smells like smoke, horse sweat, and clean linen. careful with you like he’s touching something sacred.

kneels before you. sharpens his blade at dawn while the castle still sleeps. hums old marching songs under his breath. leaves his sword by your door at night, not out of protocol but trust. keeps a strip of your ribbon tied around his wrist, hidden beneath leather and steel. armor set neatly at the foot of his bed, cloak folded with military precision. waits outside your chambers until sunrise. a knight who loves quietly, fiercely—like a vow never meant to be spoken.

SIR PATRICK ZWEIG, personal Knight of the Crowded Royal.

title: knight of the inner guard / royal shield.

sigil: a black hound on a silver field (loyalty without rest is their mantra).

weapon of choice: longsword and rondel dagger.

soldier, poet, king (by the oh hellos).

Patrick Zweig was raised in the shadow of the palace walls.

His father, Sir Zweig, was sworn sword to the reigning monarch; a knight trusted not just with protection, but discretion. Because of that, Patrick grew up alongside royalty!reader in ways no other noble child did: shared lessons, shared corridors, stolen afternoons in the gardens where titles were forgotten.

To Patrick, it was simple: he would become a knight and he would serve the crown. And one day, somehow, inevitably, he would marry you.

No one corrected him about it. Not when he trained beside you under the same masters, not when he stood beside you during festivals, mistaken for a future consort and surely not when he learned courtly manners meant for someone who might one day sit at their side.

But the truth came later, and quietly: you had had been betrothed since childhood; not out of love, but alliance, to a distant prince who would one day become King.

Patrick never confronted you about it, he never asked why he hadn’t been told and never allowed himself the humiliation of hope turning public. Instead, he did the only thing that felt survivable.

He swore himself to you. He'd become your Knight and protect you closely if he couldn't love you.

knight!patrick… never stopped imagining a future that was quietly taken from him. he doesn’t resent you for it; not even for a moment—but sometimes, late at night, he lets himself wonder who he would’ve been if he’d been allowed to hope out loud.

knight!patrick… is devastatingly good at his job. anticipates danger before it arrives, memorizes escape routes in every hall, positions himself between you and everyone else without thinking. other knights trust him with their lives.

knight!patrick… wakes before dawn without an alarm. years of training burned it into him. even on rare days off, his body rises with the light, and he lies there for a moment listening to the world breathe before putting his boots on.

knight!patrick… has a horse named Bran, a dark, steady gelding with a calm temperament and a stubborn streak. patrick talks to him like an equal, low and quiet. brushes him every evening if he can.

knight!patrick… chose to be your personal knight because distance would’ve broken him faster than proximity ever could. he tells himself it’s duty, honor, tradition; but the truth is, he needs to know you are breathing, safe, and alive.

knight!patrick… dislikes crowded feasts and loud halls. he eats simply: bread, stew, fruit when it’s in season. doesn’t drink much, but enjoys warm ale on cold nights. he hates wasting food; old habits from campaign life.

best paired with royalty!reader : opposite to king!art.

work for knight!patrick : headcanons (x royalty!reader) :

taglist: @duncanatorr @userhotd @angeldoll1e @i-t0ld-ya @stargral @nekkiotine @222col @fawnettewinchester @grimsonandclover @museboos @nozhdyved @gelotime @prismozo @lvve-talks @bluberrychampagne @artstennisracket @kathh01 @jclolz22 @dumbbandpoetic @hisfavoriteweepingangel @i-cant-stfu @bluestrd @challengers4ev @coochiemama3000 @eepwtf @domingodeaan @peachyparkerr @jiminie-08 @obsessweverything @rafeswriter @stqrfirez @pervyangelz @iheartrosalia @cxlt-lamb1 @kill3ill @avasarchve @chronic-fangirl-222 ( to be added )

©️ . . . pittsick.

[tacobacoyeet]

dad bod!patrick x ovulating!reader lol

a/n: happy birthday to dad bod patrick's biggest fan, @cha11engers!! i love you, jaka! i hope he's wrapped up pretty in a bow for you <33

warnings: SMUT 18+, breeding kink if you squint, lots of female anatomy, i have a big thing for dad bod patrick if we haven't figured that out yet

-----

There’s something about the way he sits—spread out on the couch like he built the damn thing, one arm slung over the back, the other resting on the gentle curve of his belly—that makes your mouth go dry.

His beard is thick and full, catching the light like wire. There’s a shadow of sleep in his eyes, but they’re warm, always. His shirt’s riding up just enough to show the soft swell of his stomach, the line of dark hair that disappears beneath the waistband of his sweats. That stupid hem shouldn’t be so distracting. But it is. So is the way the fabric clings to his thighs when he shifts; the way his chest hair curls above the stretched collar of his tee; the way his hand—big, wide, calloused—rises to scratch absently at his jaw.

That hand could do things. Could steady. Could ruin. Could make a mess of you with barely any effort at all. Could press on your stomach while he—

“Babe.”

A snap of fingers. Sharp. Familiar.

You blink.

He’s looking at you now, eyebrows raised, the corner of his mouth twitching.

“You still with me?”

You sigh, rubbing a hand over your face like you’re trying to shake something loose.

“Yeah. Sorry. I’m here.”

You settle back into the couch, trying for casual, like your thoughts hadn’t just been filth on a loop. “You were saying something about Art?”

Patrick tilts his head. Nods slowly. “Right. Art. He’s, uh… thinking about starting a falconry school. In the Maldives.”

You hum absently, eyes already drifting. Back to his thighs. The way his biceps stretch the sleeves of that old t-shirt. The curve of his neck, the scruff along his collarbone. Your gaze goes glassy again. He watches the exact moment you check out.

Patrick isn’t stupid. He knows what time of the month it is. Knows your tells. The way your voice goes soft and syrupy. The way you linger when you pass him in the hallway, fingers trailing a little too long over his stomach, his back, the edge of his shirt. The way your eyes follow him like you’re back in your twenties and watching him play again, like you’ve got a front row seat to something you shouldn’t be allowed to touch. He knows what it means when your body goes quiet like this—like it’s waiting.

There’s a beat of silence.

Then he reaches out, grabs your ankle, and gives it a firm tug.

You yelp as you’re jerked a few inches closer across the couch.

Before you can sit up straight or throw out a sarcastic reply, his hands slide beneath your thighs and tug again, effortlessly. He pulls you right into his lap, until you’re straddling him and your breath catches from the sudden closeness and the slow, hot drag of your body over his.

Your hips settle over his, and it’s a problem immediately. You’re wet. You’ve been wet. And now you’re pressed right up against the soft, warm bulge of him, and everything in you goes molten.

“Jesus, Patrick—” you breathe again, but it sounds different this time. Thinner. Hungrier.

He doesn’t grin this time. Just looks at you—calm, steady, all-knowing—and says, "You wanna try that answer again, baby?"

You try. You do. You blink slow and steady, adjust your seat like you’re just trying to get comfortable, not trying to grind down on him.

“I’m fine,” you say, and even you don’t believe it.

Patrick lets out a slow breath through his nose. His hands spread wide across your hips.

“No, no,” he murmurs. “I know what this is.”

You don’t answer.

“I know that look. I know what's happening to you.”

You huff, shoulders slumping as your head drops against his. “I’m ovulating,” you groan. “And you're really hot.”

Patrick hums, sympathetic and just a little amused. One hand smooths up your back, the other stays heavy on your thigh.

“Aww, poor baby,” he murmurs, voice syrupy with affection. “You that worked up, huh? All soft and aching and no one’s taken care of it yet?”

You whine—an actual sound, involuntary and pathetic—and feel your whole body flush.

He’s teasing, but gentle with it. Like he knows you’re already on the edge.

“Must be driving you crazy,” he says softly, leaning in, beard brushing your jaw. “Sitting there all day thinking about me. Imagining things. Wanting things.”

Your breath shudders.

“Patrick,” you whisper.

He chuckles, low and warm. “Yeah, sweetheart. I know.”

His hand slides down, fingers slipping beneath the edge of your panties like he’s done it a thousand times—and he has. He knows exactly how to touch you. Knows how to find you in the dark, half-asleep, already wet. And when he feels it now—how soaked you are, how warm—you hear the breath catch in his throat.

“Christ,” he mutters. “You really weren’t kidding.”

He strokes once. Just once. Slow. Barely-there.

It’s enough to make you whine again, to roll your hips like you’re chasing it.

But he doesn’t give it to you. His fingers trace lazy circles, teasing your folds, slick gathering on his knuckles, and he just hums like he’s got all the time in the world.

“Poor thing,” he says again, soft as anything. “You’re soaked. And I haven’t even kissed you yet.”

“Patrick, come on.”

Your voice is a plea, muffled where your face is buried against his neck. You’re trying to stay still, to act like you’re not losing your mind, but your hips won’t stop rolling against his fingers—desperate, instinctive. You’re burning up from the inside out.

He just smiles, his breath warm at your temple.

“Oh, I’m gonna take care of you,” he says. “Just enjoying the view.”

Then his fingers sink into you.

No warning, no buildup—he just presses forward and slides in, slow and deep, until the heel of his hand catches perfectly over your clit. You gasp, head jerking back, hands fisting in his shirt. It’s instant, the way your body reacts—tightening around him, thighs trembling, that hot, desperate flutter of release threatening to unravel you too fast.

“Fuck,” you breathe. “Oh my god.”

Patrick watches your face, eyes dark, jaw tight.

“You needed this bad, didn’t you?” he murmurs, voice low and wrecked. “Walking around all day like you didn’t know what to do with yourself.”

He starts to move his fingers—slow at first, then firm, deliberate. Every thrust hits deep. Precise. Cruel. The pressure of his palm against your clit never falters. It's maddening.

You moan, loud and unfiltered, grinding down against his hand like you’ll crawl out of your skin if he stops.

“Yeah,” he says, breath catching. “That’s it. So greedy for it. So fuckin’ sweet like this.”

You try to answer—try to say his name, something, anything—but all that comes out is a sobbed breath and another grind of your hips. He’s ruining you.

He feels it—that shudder in your thighs, the tightening in your gut. You’re close. So close.

And he pulls his fingers out.

You gasp, shocked and furious, hips still twitching for contact. “Patrick—”

But he’s already bringing them to his mouth. Licks them clean like he’s been starving, slow and unbothered, moaning quietly at the taste.

“Fucking delicious,” he murmurs. “Come on, go to the bedroom. You're gonna wake the kids up if we stay out here,” he grins, landing a slap to your ass as he follows you to bed. 

You don’t wait for him to say another word. You’re already stripping on the way down the hall, tossing your shirt to the floor, panties sliding off somewhere near the door. By the time he steps into the bedroom, you’re climbing onto the bed and turning to face him with a look that should qualify as a threat.

He opens his mouth to say something smart—and you launch.

You’re on him in seconds, mouths crashing, hands tugging at his shirt, his waistband, anywhere you can grab. You’re half wild, biting at his lower lip, moaning when he grabs you back just as rough. The bed groans beneath you both.

“You teased me,” you pant against his mouth. “You fucking teased me, Patrick.”

“I did,” he groans, trying to kick off his sweats. “Worth it.”

You don’t let him finish undressing—don’t give him a second to recover. You’re on your knees, pushing him back into the mattress, crawling up over him like you’ve gone feral. Your mouth finds his throat, jaw, collarbone—biting and kissing and mouthing over his skin like you’ve been starved.

“Condom—?” he starts.

“Not this time,” you breathe, already lowering yourself, lining him up with one trembling hand. “Need you to come inside me.”

Patrick groans, loud and guttural, fingers locking around your thighs as you sink down onto him all at once.

The stretch punches the air from your lungs. You’re wet enough that it doesn’t hurt, but the sheer depth—the fullness—makes your head spin.

“Fuck,” he gasps, face scrunched up, thighs flexing under your knees. “You feel—Jesus, baby—”

But you’re already moving.

It’s fast. Messy. You ride him like you’re trying to break something—hips snapping, thighs shaking, every wet slap of skin making your toes curl. And he lets you. Hands gripping your hips, trying to help, trying to hold on.

“Slow,” he pants. “Fuck—slow down—”

“No,” you snap, breath ragged. “No, Patrick, I can’t—just—don’t stop—”

His hands are everywhere. One slides up your back, the other comes around to cradle your breast—his thumb swiping across the sensitive peak like he knows how tender you are, like he wants to make it worse. You moan, high and broken, when he mouths at your chest, sucking heat and wet into your skin.

“They’re so full,” he groans, tongue flicking, teeth grazing. “Needed me so bad, huh?”

You nod, grinding down harder, crying out when his teeth close around your nipple.

“Fucking perfect,” he mutters against your skin. “You’re so warm. So tight.”

He thrusts up once, and it wrecks you—your hands scrabble at his shoulders, your breath hiccups. His cock’s already leaking inside you, and you swear you can feel every vein, every twitch.

“Patrick—”

“You’re gonna milk me dry,” he blurts. “Look at you. Desperate little cunt taking everything.”

And then he comes—hips locking, hands gripping so tight you might bruise—and the heat floods you, thick and pulsing, until you’re gasping from it.

You keep moving. Keep riding him through it, chasing your own end, too far gone to stop.

He’s wrecked. You feel him twitching inside you, breath stuttering, jaw slack. But when he realizes you’re not stopping, he grabs your waist again and flips you.

You land hard on your back with a cry, legs still wrapped around him, and he’s already plunging back in. He doesn’t give you a second to catch your breath. He just fucks into you like he needs to. Like it’s instinct. His own trembling thighs be damned, because this is all about you.

Skin slapping. A messy cocktail of your slick and his cum sliding down your thighs. Your nails rake down his back and he groans into your mouth.

“Say it,” he pants. “Say what you want.”

“Want you to fuck me full,” you sob. “Need it. Please—please—”

He growls, slamming in deeper, harder. His hand presses down over your lower belly, right where he’s buried deep.

“Feel that?” he pants. “That’s me. All of me. You’re gonna keep it. Every drop. Gonna take it so good, baby.”

Your breasts bounce with every thrust, so sensitive you’re nearly crying. He palms them both, squeezing, thumbing your nipples until you arch off the mattress.

“You’re gonna come for me,” he pants. “I want it. Give it to me.”

Your orgasm crashes into you like a wave breaking—loud, body-clenching, breath-stealing. You cry, muffled into his chest, legs locking around him, cunt spasming so hard you feel him moan with it.

And still he doesn’t stop. Not until you’ve gone soft beneath him, whimpering, shaking, spent.

Finally, he rolls off of you and pulls you beside him. "Satisfied?" he asks, panting quietly.

There's a glint in your eyes as you turn your head, gaze locking with his. The smirk on your face should terrify him, but if anything, it only makes the blood flow faster to his groin. "Not even close."

------

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[pedaltothepetal-sideblog]

girl dad!patrick zweig headcanons ౨ৎ

girl dad!patrick zweig who immediately turned his life around when he found out you were pregnant, becoming a father was the wake-up call he needed, retiring from tennis and working for his parents.

girl dad!patrick zweig who decorated the entire nursery while you were sleeping, swearing he'd only paint the walls ('yellow! it's a neutral colour!') but stayed up all night to make it perfect for her.

girl dad!patrick zweig who sets up an investment portfolio before she's even born, setting up a college fund and lining up stocks and shares thanks to his parent's money.

girl dad!patrick zweig who dedicates a good chunk of your pregnancy on learning how to braid hair and accidentally becomes the go-to parent for braids at school sports events.

girl dad!patrick zweig who gifts your daughter a tennis racket for her first birthday, he couldn't help himself and as she grows up, becomes her personal tennis coach till she says she wants to do ballet instead and he finds himself in a world of tutus and recitals but never misses a single performance!

girl dad!patrick zweig who teaches her affirmations and makes her say them in the mirror every morning, ('i am loved, i am kind, i am beautiful, i am gentle')

girl dad!patrick zweig who sends your daughter to pester you for a takeaway when he's the one who wants it because he knows you can't resist her

girl dad!patrick zweig who gets her a puppy to teach her responsibility but ends up doing all the work but doesn't really mind because he secretly loves the dog too, getting a second dog because ('he needs a friend!')

girl dad!patrick zweig who is blindly supportive, your teen daughter's heading to a party, ('what do you think about her skirt?' 'i think it looks great, honey!'), not realising it's much too short.

[bystla]

you’re here, that’s the thing

and i know you said that we’re not a thing but you’re here, that’s the thing - you're here that's the thing, beabadoobee

pairing: teen!patrick zweig x childhood bestfriend!reader

in which: you and patrick have spent summers tangled up with each other. you're in love, he's in denial. and yet— he's here, that's the thing.

warnings: patrick being an idiot, mutual pining, lack of communication

note: patrick and reader are 18-ish. this based off my favorite beabadoobee song, which is very patrick coded (in my opinion). this is my first fic, i hope you like it!!

“so we’re both here, aren’t we?”

you turn around, a stupid grin instantly blossoming on your face at the sight of patrick zweig standing a few steps above you on the staircase.

"you avoiding me or something? you haven't talked to me since you got here." patrick laughs gently.

"no, of course not." you tilt your head slightly, biting back everything you want to say and opting for a smile. you pat the space next to you and he sits down, all in comfortable silence.

whether you’re 10 or 18, you always end up here. with him. an escape from his parents’ suffocating parties and small talk.

patrick sniffs as he lights a cigarette. you scrunch up your nose, “we’re literally indoors, pat.”

patrick scoffs as pillows of smoke escape his mouth. “it’s my house. the window’s open, they won’t care.”

“summer house,” you correct and his eyes fly skyward.

“yeah, yeah. summer house. on the fuckin’, fuckin’— i forget- which island are we on?” patrick snaps his fingers in thought

“santa catalina,” you respond simply, picking at your nails because you don’t think you can look him in the eyes. your insides are already bubbling and he hasn’t even been here two minutes.

“santa fucking whatever-“ patrick snorts, bringing his beer bottle up to his lips and passing it over to you. he doesn’t even ask if you want it or not— he knows you well enough to know that you’ll take a sip.

you wrap your lips around the bottle, and you can taste him. or you think you can. or maybe you just connect everything that reminds you of him to him.

the taste of beer, cigarettes, the subtle hint of his cologne— earthy, citrusy, and unmistakably him

you shut your eyes and swallow down the cold liquid, you try not to gag because you know patrick will make fun of you for it.

“i’ve missed you, y’know?”

you almost spit out your drink, your cheeks burn up and all of a sudden you’re 13 again. “really?”

patrick rolls his eyes again. “yeah, idiot. ‘course i missed you, you’re the only friend i have.”

“you have art?”

“that’s—“ patrick sniffs, “that’s different, you’re like a- a girl.”

“wow, i feel so special,” you can’t help but laugh. “where’s art anyways?”

“he’s staying with his grandmother for the summer this year,” patrick shrugs, taking another long drag of his cigarette. he turns to smirk at you- “why, do you miss him? did you want to see him?”

but you know him enough to know that under all that bravado is stupid, boyish jealousy.

“i’ve missed you too.” you let yourself admit.

he immediately smiles at that. “yeah, you did. you probably dreamed of me every night and fuckin’ cried to thought of me.” he cackles like a maniac, shoving you gently. now it’s your turn to roll your eyes.

you reach for the beer bottle and you brush his hands—warm and calloused— and the touch lingers a bit too long. you pull your hand away as you take another sip, your fingers twitch. it’d be so easy to grab his hand right now. you swallow the drink down with your fantasies as you clear your throat.

“so how’s—“ you begin to say

“fuck, this is so stupid,” he groans. he reaches for your chin and tilts your head.

your eyes meet.

his are a shade of blue and green, like when the sun shines on the ocean. that sort of pretty. comforting. you’d like to swim in them. those eyes flicker to your lips. his thumb brushes over your chin, your insides flutter. and he almost— almost leans in.

“you’re being weird, is this because i kissed you last year?”

yes. yes. it is patrick. you want to scream.

“no, why would— i’m not being weird-“

“you are- you are being so fuckin’ weird-“

“patrick- i’m fine,” you scoff.

“it’s wasn’t supposed to be serious if that’s what you’re so concerned about— we’re not a thing. it was like a drunk thing.”

oh.

a drunk thing. not a thing that happened after years of tension. just a drunk thing. that's all it was to him. you swallow that thought like you could wash it down with the lingering taste of beer in your mouth as your heart throbs in your chest.

but yeah, you and patrick were never a thing. it’s something patrick had made clear several times. but each time was a new stab in the chest.

the kiss was a drunken mistake. it was the last day of summer break, you, art, and patrick around six and a half beers in with some weed in the mix, sitting on the sands of the beach. all drunk out of their minds.

you were talking about something stupid while art laughed. patrick stared at the waves crashing into the rocks before he cupped your cheeks and kissed you.

it was soft. warm. right.

and even though you were both blackout drunk, you remember it so clearly. and so does he— he wouldn't have brought it up otherwise.

art had laughed at the action. "what, is this, like, a thing? you guys a thing now?"

patrick had pulled away at that point, his hand still on your waist, grip tightening with his jaw. "fuck, no. it's not like that."

your family left the zweig’s summer home the next morning.

and you couldn’t bear asking him about it over the phone in fear of ruining seven years of friendship.

so for the next 350 something days, you convinced yourself it was just some summer fling that couldn’t even be considered “a fling.”

you managed to convince yourself that you don’t care. but that doesn’t stop the burning, tingly sensation at your waterline and a tear or two from rolling down your cheek.

his entire face drops, almost comically. “why are you crying? no- don’t cry- what the fuck-“ he panics. he doesn’t know where to put his hands. they cup your cheeks then fall from your cheeks. hold your shoulders, then your hands. it’s almost like patrick’s brain crashed and he was malfunctioning. it would almost be funny if it didn't hurt so much, just because of that stupid look on his face. you almost smile. "hey, no- stop that." he starts to laugh, that stupid laugh you fell in love with, and when notices your glare, he stops.

he chooses to stare at you in silence, reaching over to wipe some of your tears. you push his hands away, it's petty. he sighs. "i dunno what i did wrong, i- i thought you wanted it to be a drunk thing. you didn't— you talk about it after we did it. I mean— girls usually talk about this kind of shit, right? to-"

you look at him through your tears, in a 'are you fucking stupid?' kind of way and he shuts up. through your tears you manage to finally say, "imfuckinginlovewithyou, youstupidfuckingidiot"

patrick's eyebrows furrow in confusion, but not in— 'wow this girl loves me' confusion. no— more in a 'what the fuck did you just say, because i don't understand the words that come out of your mouth when you cry' kind of way. you breathe deeply, calming your shaky vocal chords, and wipe your tears. "i love you, you idiot."

patrick's dumbfounded. he opens his mouth to say something. closes it. opens it again— then closes it for good. he's like a fish. a stupidly handsome fish. then he finally manages an "oh." "oh?" you repeat, then the frustration spills out. "the fuck you mean 'oh'? i just said something that could change the trajectory of our friendship—" without warning, he kisses you. grabbing onto the back of your neck and shutting you up.

your hand drops and you grab onto his shirt. your mouth moves with his, and it's so... right. he tastes like the smoke of his cigarette, he tastes like the beer— he tastes like patrick.

when you pull apart and just stare at him, he laughs. fucking laughs. like an idiot. you roll your eyes. "i like you too." he smirks slightly, pushing a hand through his curls and sighing.

"i just told you i love you, and you're saying you like me?" you tease with a smile. "wow, patrick. i'm hurt." he cups your cheeks again, inching closer. "please don't start crying again."

he brushes his thumb over your bottom lip.

"i love you too." — tags: @hyuneskkami for the divider

[intomepang]

how’d i get so lucky?

boyfriend!patrick zweig x reader

note: just needed some cute bf patrick!!! first time posting something like this so i hope you enjoyy!! sorry if there are any errors, barely proofread this.

patrick’s been sitting on the edge of your bed for a while now, one leg stretched out, the other bent as he leans back on his elbows. he got to your dorm just a few hours ago, doing his usual visit before leaving for tour.

as you sit at your desk, working through your skincare routine, you can feel his eyes on you. it’s not unusual since he always watches you with this quiet focus, like you’re the only thing in the world worth his attention. when you glance up into the mirror, there he is, his expression softer than usual.

“what?” you ask, meeting his gaze in the reflection, your tone light but curious.

“nothing,” he says with a small shrug, but the smile doesn’t leave his face. “you just look... peaceful, i guess.”

you roll your eyes to mask the sudden fluttering in your chest and turn to face him fully, twisting the lid back onto your moisturizer. “want me to do it for you?”

patrick blinks, not expecting that offer. “what, like... your skincare routine?”

“yeah. don’t look at me like that,” you laugh, standing up and grabbing a few of your products.

he huffs out a soft chuckle, but when you walk over and nudge him with your knee, he doesn’t hesitate to sit up straight, giving you room to climb onto his lap.

“alright, alright,” he says, settling his hands instinctively on your waist to steady you.

your favorite playlist softly fills the background as you settle on his lap, a couple of skincare products around you. his eyes are closed, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips as you swipe a cotton pad across his face, your legs draped comfortably on either side of him.

“you’re way too good at this,” he mumbles, voice low and content. “are you sure this isn’t just an excuse to manhandle my face?”

you huff out a laugh, dipping your fingers into a jar of moisturizer. "do you want me to stop? you need this, especially since you’re out baking under the sun all day playing tennis." you tease.

he opens one eye lazily, the corner of his mouth twitching into a grin. “i love it when you’re bossy, you know that?”

“close your eyes,” you warn, tapping the tip of his nose with a teasing finger. he chuckles but complies, leaning further back against the headboard as his grip on your waist tightened slightly.

as you smooth the cream over his skin in small circles, you catch the way his jaw relaxes, the faint smile softening while his thumbs brush absentmindedly against your sides, making your heart flutter.

“i miss you a lot when i’m away,” he admits, his voice cutting through the quiet. “always thinking about you.”

your hands still on his cheeks as his words sink in. there’s a vulnerability in the way he says it, like it’s a thought he’s been holding onto for too long. his eyes open, meeting yours.

“i know. i miss you too.” you whisper, smoothing your thumbs along his cheekbones. “you can always call me when you can.”

“it’s not enough.” his hands press more firmly on your waist, grounding himself. “every tournament, every match—i think about what it would feel like to come home to you, instead of some cheap motel room.”

your heart squeezes at his honesty. you trace the curve of his jaw with your fingertips, trying to pour all the reassurance you can into your touch. the two of you can be away from each other for so long yet somehow, in moments like this, it feels as though the distance never mattered.

you’re about to respond, but he speaks again. “how’d i get so lucky to have someone that supports me and understands me the way you do?” he says it with smile.

your own lips curving upward to match his. “you make it easy, you know,” your head tilting slightly. “loving you, cheering you on— it’s never felt like a choice. it just comes naturally.”

patrick lets out a shaky breath, his hands slipping up to your back, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. he presses a kiss to your shoulder, lingering there and cherishing the moment.

“i love you.” he whispers, his lips brushing against your skin.

you pull away and smile, cupping his face again to tilt it toward yours. “i love you, patrick.” you whisper, your hands sliding into his hair as you kiss him.

[girliism]

domestic throuple life with art and patrick is something i yearn for.

art’s alarm clock rings though the air though you’ve been awake for while, patrick’s snoring having woke you up ages ago.

“art turn that fucking alarm off.” patrick groans sticking his face deeper into your neck. art always got up first. he likes his routine. 5:50 his alarm goes off, he gets up does his stretches then gets in the shower. while you and patrick wait.

“you snore too loud.” you say. patrick makes an obnoxious snoring sound in your face. you move to lay your body on top of his. “how did you sleep?” you mumble good drifting into a half sleep. the shower turns off signaling that you and patrick have to get up now.

the three of you are squeeze into the small bathroom brushing your teeth. art stands with a towel around his waist, patrick in his boxer and you in one of art’s oversized shirts. your three faces reflecting in the mirror.

its was patrick’s turn to cook breakfast. “what is on the menu today chef zweig.” you ask drinking the orange juice he placed in front of you. “pancakes.” patrick flips one of them.

“haven’t learned to cook anything else have we.” art joked stepping into the kitchen dress in a nice suit. whistles and catcalls are echoed throughout the kitchen. “don’t you look good.” patrick compliments smacking art on the ass. art turns his head down, pink blush growing on his face. he was always shy when it came to you and patrick complimenting him. art utters out a small thank you.

“you look great baby, here let me do your tie.” by the time you finish tying arts tie patrick finishes the pancakes placing three plates on the counter. “so how is it?” patrick does this every time he cooks, pretending you and art are judges. you and art share a look before shooting him two big thumbs up each. “yes!”

light conversation is passed between the three of you. “oh shit i have to go.” art chugs down the rest of his drink standing to get his suit jacket. “don’t forget you lunch.” patrick hands him his lunch box. art gives you and patrick rushed kisses making his to the door. “love you guys.” “we love you.” you and patrick say and art is out the door leaving the two of you alone.

patrick looks over at you. “i wash you dry.” you smile at him. “deal.”