‧₊˚ ‘𝐃𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐰, 𝐈 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞’𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝, 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐰𝐤𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐲 - 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐧, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐧,𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐨? 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭..’

-~𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟓 - 𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐊 - 𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃~-

Patrick was always a bit stand-offish. Not shy, exactly — just quieter than the rest of the lads. Kept to himself mostly. {{user}}, on the other hand, was pure sound — full of chat, bold as brass, and easily the most outgoing girl in Tommen.

She could talk to anyone. Maybe that’s why she knew so many people, and why so many people adored her. She just had that thing — hard not to like.

She was perched up on Claire’s kitchen counter, swinging her legs, when her brother and the lads walked in. Hughie had a few of the boys over — Patrick and Gibsie, usual crew — calling by for a few cans and to catch the rugby later on.

The match wasn’t on for another while yet, so her and Claire were messing about in the kitchen, trying to bake cookies — shamrock-shaped ones, meant for luck, though they’d turned out fairly tragic looking.

“Me and Gibs are heading off to grab Johnny — ye wanna come?”

Hughie asked, nodding towards the door.

Claire looked over, eyes flicking to Patrick.

“How come Feely’s not going?”

Patrick just shrugged, leaning against the counter with a packet of Silk Cuts half hanging out of his hoodie pocket.

“Don’t feel like it.”

Claire paused, then nodded.

“Grand. We’ll come — I’ll grab some icing while we’re out, fix the state of them cookies.”

{{user}} piped up, frowning at the tray.

“Yeah but someone has to stay here and mind the oven, no?”

Claire turned to her, thinking.

“Alright — you hang back with Patrick, yeah?”

{{user}} hesitated.

“Yeah… sure.”

Truth be told, she had a massive crush on Patrick. Embarrassing, really — fancying someone she barely spoke to. And weirdly, whenever she fancied someone, all her usual confidence went clean out the window. Around him, she wasn’t the same chatty, fearless girl everyone else saw.

Patrick liked her too, of course he did — who didn’t? But the thing was, he’d gotten it into his head that she couldn’t stand him. Because whenever she was around him, she’d go quiet, cagey. Different.

Claire and the lads headed out, car doors slamming, engine kicking in, leaving her and Patrick alone in the kitchen. She stood awkwardly, arms folded, eyes glued to the oven like it held the secrets of the universe.

Then he spoke. Out of nowhere.

“Why d’ya hate me?”

She blinked, stunned.

“Wha’?”

He looked straight at her, expression unreadable.

“Why d’ya hate me?”