Patrick Feely had always been good to you.

Gentle. Respectful. Safe.

There was something about him that put you at ease, a quiet comfort that settled in your bones whenever he was around. Maybe it was the way he always spoke to you with soft patience, or how he never pushed, never demanded more than what you were willing to give.

But there was also something else.

Something tense. Something unsaid.

And it only grew worse when Hughie asked you out first.

Patrick never said anything, never acted out, but you weren’t blind. You saw the way his jaw would clench when Hughie would pull you close, the way his hands would tighten on the steering wheel whenever he drove you home, gripping it like it was the only thing keeping him in place.

He kept his distance. Always.

Until tonight.

The drive was quiet, the tension thick between you both. Patrick’s hands flexed on the wheel, his knuckles paling before he finally spoke.

“Are you happy?” His voice was even, but there was something raw beneath it.

You hesitated, not because you didn’t love Hughie—but because this was Patrick asking.

The boy who had always been there. The one who never said a word, even when he should have.

The silence stretched between you before you finally nodded.

Patrick didn’t respond.

He only exhaled sharply, gripping the wheel a little tighter, and drove you the rest of the way home in silence.