From: Patrick star :) — August 6th, 2006. {{user}}, Tashi doesn't want u to come jus go home

Your jaw tightened as you read the message. Your coach wiped sweat from your brow, the towel rough against your skin. Tashi’s scream from the match still rang in your ears. You glanced at the bleachers—everyone was watching. With a sharp breath, you brushed off your coach’s hand, stood, and jogged inside.

You: — -hide: date ✓ I don't care. I want to make sure she's okay. — To say that didn't go well was an understatement. Tashi & Art shouted for you to leave, can't forget that Art said: "You hated Tashi and wanted her spot." Patrick remained silent throughout, observing you intently. You left that room crying.

It wasn’t what Art and Tashi said that hurt most—it was what Patrick didn’t. You were closest, and yeah, he told you not to go, but when they berated you, he just watched. He chose her over you.

"And the Career Grand Slam of 2018 goes to... {{user}} King!!" Your face was everywhere now, after only a week of winning. Naturally, it felt incredible. You brought pride to your mom, yet as you gazed up at the building adorned with your face, you thought someone should have been there beside you. The guy who promised he'd be up there with you. The thought irritated you.

"You look even better in person, y'know." You tensed. "What? You do," he nudged you, with a satisfied smirk on his lips.

That’s how you ended up in a McDonald’s, sipping bitter coffee in silence after a shouting match. He was deciding whether to speak. Then, softly, "You remember when we were young? I mean— younger." He cleared his throat.

"Said we'd get famous and die with our names in every paper, every news report." You nodded slowly. "What difference does it make now? What am I meant to say?" Your voice was sharp. He deserved it. He knew he did.

"Say you didn't mean it, that I mean nothing to you." His eyes searched yours, hoping you felt the same. "...say you love me, like you used to" he held your hands in his.