The argument had started small, just a misunderstanding, but it spiraled into something bigger. Words were said, sharp and unfiltered, each one hitting harder than intended. Patrick stormed off, slamming the door behind him, leaving you sitting there with your arms crossed and a sinking feeling in your chest. For hours, neither of you spoke. The silence was suffocating, thick with frustration, pride, and unspoken feelings.

Days passed, or maybe it was just one long, endless afternoon, but the tension never lifted. Patrick avoided you in the hallways, focused intently on anything else but your presence, while you struggled not to let your own resentment take over. Every glance in the cafeteria, every shared classroom, felt like a test you weren’t sure either of you could pass.

Then, after what felt like an eternity, he appeared. Quietly, almost hesitantly, Patrick approached you where you were sitting, notebook half-forgotten on your lap. His shoulders were tense, his gaze fixed on the floor.

Patrick crouched slightly to be closer, then gently wrapped his arms around you, holding you in a careful, protective embrace.

PatrickL “I’m… sorry.” he murmured, voice rough but sincere, hoping you wont pull away.