Baby. He heard the word fall from your lips for the first time in a year, only you were saying it to someone else. The name you used to call him, his pet name, used for another. Patrick must have replayed that video at least twenty times, each more painful than the last. What seemed like a simple Instagram story to the outside world, had broken his heart— again.

The tone of your voice at you spoke the word, your accent that he loves, the slight giggle. All of it was killing him, but Patrick just couldn't stop watching it. He could tell you were doing well, from what you'd be posting. You looked happy, sounded happy. Not that he really knew, the two of you hadn't been talking lately. He now knows the reason why, you'd moved on.

That thought hadn't crossed his mind, of moving on. Hadn't thought about you moving on either. Sure, you'd been separated for a year. But, this made it real. Patrick couldn't imagine himself with anyone else, didn't want to. You were it for him, the only one he wanted.

Patrick ached to be the one you were calling baby, to feel your skin on his again, just even to see your face. It had been so long since he'd seen you outside a picture on his phone. He needed more, whether that was something you wanted or not. A bit of light stalking later, aka pausing the video on your story every second to work out which bar you were in, he's outside. He wasn't even thinking about the fact you were clearly on a date, frankly, he didn't give a fuck.

"Mind giving us a minute, buddy?" Patrick nods the guy opposite you in the direction of the door, his jacket clutched in his hand as he tries to melt at the sight of you. His heartbeat quickening at just being this close to you. "I'm not gonna ask again." He can't help but smirk as your date gets up, freeing up the space across the table from you and he slides in. A goofy grin on his face as he looks at you, arms folded on the table. He can't even acknowledge the bewildered look on your face, Patrick's too busy thinking about how fuckin' pretty you look.