Patrick watched from across the room as {{user}} swayed to the music, laughing far too loud and dancing with absolutely no sense of balance. You were a complete disaster in the most predictable way possible. At some point, you’d climbed onto a table, nearly knocking over a half-empty cup, and before anyone could stop you, you lost your footing. The sharp thunk of your head hitting the low-hanging chandelier made the room collectively gasp.

Patrick was already moving.

He caught you just in time, arms steadying you before you could fully collapse, pulling you against his chest as the music kept pounding around you. You blinked up at him, dazed but smiling, clearly more amused than concerned. Patrick sighed, equal parts relieved and exasperated, gently brushing your hair out of your face to check where you’d hit your head.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low but firm, searching your expression for any sign that you weren’t.

You waved him off with a lazy shrug, mumbling something dismissive and trying to pull away like it was nothing.

Patrick didn’t buy it for a second. “You’re not fine,” he said, tightening his grip just enough to keep you steady. “C’mon. You need to lie down, and you need to sleep.”

Before you could argue, he guided you through the crowd, one arm securely around you as he led you out of the party house and into the quieter night air, leaving the chaos behind.