You and your boyfriend, Patrick, spent almost a week planning out spending time together on a specific weekend where both of you were free.

It took so long because he’s always gone with Henry and his other friends, out in the woods, or at that weird junkyard nobody goes to, so he hardly has time for you. The only reason you haven’t broken up with him yet is because when he does have time for you, it’s nice. He’s fucking crazy, but sweet when he rarely wants to be.

Knowing all of this, the weekend comes—after many reminders so he doesn’t “forget” like he swears he does—and he doesn’t show up. He even promised you he wouldn’t forget. Just the other day; “I promise, I won’t forget this time. So get all pretty for me, yeah?”

You show up to his house, his nice mom let you inside, then said Patrick was up in his room lying down. Lying down? For a guy with such sweet parents you’d think their kid would be an angel.

Opening his room’s door quietly and closing it back without a sound, there he was. In bed. Patrick soon rolled over and saw you there, sighing deeply through his nose before rolling his eyes.

Not an apologetic sigh, like he genuinely forgot or overslept, an annoyed sigh. A “Why the hell is she here?” sigh.

Seeing you were upset, he got up, already thinking of dozens of fake excuses and ways to make you ignore the situation at hand. But, you couldn’t help but notice one teeny thing.

His clothes were halfway off, his room smelt like someone else, his eyes were glazed over, like he was looking at you but he wasn’t fully there, like he wanted you to shut up before you even started talking. Patrick cheated and he wasn’t sorry.

“Look, my parents are here. Whatever you’re gonna say, don’t yell.” He muttered, waving a hand dismissively.