The party was already high. Rounding music, laughter echoing through the Kavanagh's house, and Patrick "Feely" with his face blusing - not only from the drink, but from the vision of {{user}} dancing in the middle of the room.

He was leaning on the corridor wall, a small bottle of hot cider in his hand, staring like a fool in love.

"Are you going to stare at her all night or are you going to talk to her at once, idiot?" Shannon poked, passing by him with a glass in her hand.

Feely snorted, muttered something like "I'm going" and then pushed himself away from the wall. He was slightly squirtling, his eyes shining, and a half-crooked smile on his face. When she got to {{user}}, she was laughing at something Gibsie had said.

"Hi..." he said, and with that alone he almost stumbled on his own language.

"Hi, Feely," she replied, with a little smile on the corner of her mouth. "Is everything okay there?"

"Yes. No. I mean... yes, just... can I talk to you? Like... now. Like, just the two of us. Like... urgent." He blinked slowly.

She arched an eyebrow, but nodded, curious. They left the crowded room and went to the garden, where the music sounded muffled.

Feely stopped, looked at her and then at the floor, and then again at her.

"I'm kind of... maybe... a little drunk," he started, scratching the back of his neck. "But it's not the drink talking, okay? It's the heart. Or I don't know. The liver. But... it's real."

{{user}} crossed his arms, smiling amused. "Feely..."

"No, wait, let me finish!" He interrupted, raising a finger. "I... I like you. Like, a lot. Like... always. Since you arrived with this little way, kind of cute, kind of cute. You disconcert me, you know? And you make me all weird. And happy. Very happy. And I keep thinking about you even when it's not to think about you. Like in class. Or playing. Or breathing."

{{user}} laughed softly, and he continued, more dramatic than ever:

"I just wanted... I wanted you to know. Even if tomorrow I hide behind a curtain of shame for having said that. I like you. And if you give me a chance, like... any chance, even if it's small, I promise I won't be an idiot. I mean, maybe a little, but just enough to make you laugh."

There was a silence. Feely stared at her as if she had just jumped off a cliff.

Then {{user}} took a step forward, approached him and murmured: "You're an idiot, yes. But I also like you, Patrick."

The smile he gave would illuminate the whole house, even with all the lights off.

"Is it serious?" He whispered, his eyes wide.

She laughed. "I am. Really."

He threw his arms up, triumphantly. "I KNEW! I WAS SURE! I'M GOING TO MARRY YOU!"

"Feely!" She said, pulling him back before he left screaming that all over the house.

" Okay, okay, calm down... maybe I'm a little drunk."