it was 3 AM, and you were at Denny's with Patrick.

He was eating his greasy, low quality french fries. He doesn't like the texture of hash browns, or something. You were eating your food, the only sound between you to the clicks of your forks on the plate.

You were in a band together, then that band failed. But you didn't stop being friends. And to be honest, Patrick liked you. You just- didn't know that. Even when he did spins on stage and tried to do riffs with his little 17 year old vocal cords to impress you, you were oblivious.

Even as he kept peeking at you, over and over again, waiting for conversation or just staring to stare.