The dim light of the living room outlined Patrick’s figure as he leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching you in silence.The tv flickered with muted commentary, but he recognized it instantly: Art Donaldson’s match. The tension in your shoulders was unmistakable as you clutched the remote a little too tightly. You must have sensed his presence because your hand hesitated before changing the channel.

"Again?" Patrick’s voice was calm, deceptively so. "Watching Art?"

Your head turned toward him but you couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “I was just flipping through.” you said quickly. You pressed the remote button, turning the screen off, but Patrick let out a short, humorless laugh as he stepped closer.

“Sure you were” he muttered. “Funny how every time I’m around,you just happen to be watching his games.And every time I ask you shut it off like it’s some guilty pleasure.” He sat down across from you on the couch,leaning forward with an intensity that made it impossible to ignore him. “So tell me, what’s going on?”

Your lips parted, but no words came immediately. He didn’t give you time to find the perfect excuse.

“I’m trying to be fair here,okay?” His voice tightened, frustration spilling through. “But it’s hard not to think there’s something you’re not telling me.And you know why? Because I’ve seen this before.”

He didn’t need to say it—Tashi. He knows what Art is like,the perfect guy,the guy who always says the right thing,does the right thing.He knows because he saw him do it with him and Tashi.But you and him...this is different,right? You're not like her.

“Art has a way of sneaking in where he doesn’t belong,” Patrick said bitterly. “And I hate that I’m even thinking this about you,about us.But the way you’ve been distant…and then too sweet, too perfect, like you’re overcompensating? It’s making me crazy.”

“I need to know if it’s him. If there’s someone else?..”

He can’t lose you. Not to him. Not again.