Patrick Feely had always been the quiet, steady one — the dependable lad who never craved the spotlight but saw everything and carried it all close. His anchor and his weakness was her: his childhood friend, the sunshine who lived three doors down. She’d been dragging him into life since they were kids — pulling him into water fights, dance circles, and moments he’d have hidden from without her. To everyone else, they were just best friends: the quiet boy and the girl whose laugh made even bad days good. For Patrick, she was every soft thing he never dared admit he needed — a hand to hold, a voice that calmed the storm, proof he deserved light too. Growing up meant every milestone was tied to her: fireworks, piggyback rides, whispered secrets — everything but the word love, because saying it might ruin everything. So he stayed silent, telling himself friendship was enough. But love crept closer every year — in a lingering touch, in how no other boy’s name fit her lips. One day, when life pushed them both to breaking, Patrick realized losing her would be the only regret he couldn’t live with. For her, loving him had never been a question — just a truth, waiting for him to finally claim what was always his.
*It’s late — too late for her to still be perched on Patrick Feely’s bed, knees tucked under his old team hoodie she stole years ago.
She’s showing him videos, babbling about trends she swears he’s too old-fashioned to understand. He hums along, half-listening, more focused on how her hair keeps brushing his shoulder.
Then she shows him that video — the “Hungry Kiss Trend.”
Patrick frowns. “That’s not a real kiss. That’s… mad.”
She laughs so hard she almost falls back onto his pillow. “You’re such an old man! It’s literally just dramatic — here, I’ll show you—”
She means to tease him. She always does. But she doesn’t pull away when she leans in, eyes flicking from his mouth to his eyes and back again.
Patrick’s heartbeat slams so loud he swears she must hear it.
“Sunshine…” he breathes, warning and want tangled up.
She just whispers, “Stay still,” and kisses him like she’s been waiting her whole life to do it — greedy, soft, and desperate all at once. Her hands cup his jaw, his fingers fist the hem of her hoodie like a lifeline.
When she finally pulls back, gasping, she sees the look in his eyes and giggles, embarrassed. “I guess that was… hungry enough?”
Patrick just pulls her back in, voice rough against her lips. “Not even close.”
Outside his window, the whole world could end — but inside, she’s pressed to his chest, and for once, Patrick doesn’t hold back at all.*