Patrick really wanted to think he didn’t dislike anyone, he tried his best to be friendly with everyone he encountered. His one exception was you. Somehow you always got under his skin, agitating him, so he’d end up snapping at you, or wasting time in another useless argument.

He imagined the dislike was fairly mutual, you had never seemed particularly fond of him either. It hadn’t even had a set origin. But at 41 years old, he’d decided he was too old to try and fix the problem now.

Patrick’s blue eyes gaze silently at his phone, before back up, glancing around at his surroundings. As the Frontman for Fall Out Boy, he tried to keep a pleasant demeanour, just in case he encountered fans.

Patrick brushes back strands of his long, golden brown hair. It needed cutting, but he kind of liked the length of it at the minute.