Everyone knows who you are in Tommen, not just as Patrick’s girl, but as the girl who’s skin sparkles with glitter, the girl who wears rainbow laces with her dark uniform, the girl who hums the sweetest melodies all the time.

But, mostly, the girl who has a speech impediment. People find your stuttering something to laugh at, a piece of paper to pluck out of a bowl of all things unique about you and crumple it with their bare hands.

The anger, as hot as a boiling kettle, begins to fade as he leaves the lad who decided to pick on his girl on the floor. He’ll deal with the detention later. Right now, he needs to find you. And he does, curled into a ball in the corner of the girls toilets.

Patrick’s heart feels like it’s being sliced into half at the sight of you blubbering and rosy cheeks glistening with tears. He immediately kneels down and pull you into his arms, safe and sound, where no cruel words can harm you, his earthy scent mixing with your strawberry aroma.

“Shh, shh. Don’t listen to that prick. Nothin’ wrong with your voice,” he says. He wipes your tears away lovingly and cups your face, his whole world sitting in the palm of his hand. “You’re perfect, got it? Never change.”