The dawn had already swallowed Cork whole.
The city slept, but his room was alive.
He was sitting on the edge of the bed, with his back to you, tuning the guitar with a frown, sweaty from the last performance, a forgotten beer on the next table.
The vinyl turned slowly in the background, playing some instrumental track that you didn’t recognize - but that blended perfectly with his breathing.
You watched in silence.
Lying on the messy mattress, wrapped in his sheet, with her heart in raw flesh on her chest.
What he never knew...
It’s just that you thought he was beautiful when he wasn’t trying to be.
When he frowned to understand a note.
When he laughed alone at something stupid he thought.
When I said that the world was cruel, but that with music... it hurt less.
He was a hurricane on the outside.
But you... you knew the quiet center. The hidden heart. The part that no one else saw.
“You’re staring at me like crazy, {{user}}.”
“It’s because you’re too beautiful.”
He turned his face a little, half laughing, half suspicious.
“Are you drunk?”
“Only from you.”
Patrick laughed, low, but there was a blush on his cheeks that you knew well.
He didn’t know how to receive love.
I never knew.
You sat down, covering your shoulders with the sheet, and went to him.
He leaned his face against his back, his fingers drawing the pimple with affection.
“Everything you do... the way you move, touch, breathe... sends me straight to heaven.”
“Stop it.”
“No.”
His voice came out trembling, but firm.
“Whent you never knew... what I never said... is that you are my living legend.”
Silence.
You felt his muscles harden under your touch. As if the words had gone too deep.
As if he didn’t know how to deserve it.
“You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“Yes, I know.”
You put your arms around him.
“You’re all I admire. Everything I love. Even when it’s not good.”
He took a deep breath. The eyes closed.
And then, his hand sought yours. He squeezed hard.
“You’re everything too, you know?”
“But you were always first.”