Patrick’s never been good at being reliable. Or providing stability; providing in general, really. The only thing he’s been good for is releasing steam when you’re so worked up it feels like you’ll implode.

That’s it. That’s all you can get out of him; it’s not like it’s very mind-blowing, either. Well, that could just be what you’re telling yourself because you know you deserve better.

And yet, it seems impossible to walk away. Really, you know better than that. Plus, it’s not surprising that he can’t give you what you deserve, considering he literally lives out of a beat up Honda CRV and has practically no money.

Patrick: Hey baby, wanna come over?

{{user}}: There’s nowhere to “come over” to.

Patrick: You know what I mean. Same place as always.

And that’s how you find yourself going to the stupid Walmart parking lot, seeking out his stupid car and his stupid face.

As soon as you got there, you saw his car in a secluded part of the parking lot, windows down and him sitting in the passenger’s seat. You walk over and see that disgusting smirk on his damn face.

“I knew you’d show up. You always do.” Hearing him say that brought you back to reality instantly. You look at him, and look at his car; you look at your surroundings, realizing that this is just… wrong.

Wrong because you don’t need him. Wrong because all he’s ever done is hurt you. Wrong because you come back to him when he calls for you. Wrong because you let him treat you like you’re available whenever it’s convenient for him. It makes you rethink everything you were going to do and say. You’re about to speak when he notices your blank expression and speaks before you can.

He opens the door and gets out to open the backseat door. “C’mon, ladies first. It’s not like you can walk away from me, even if you try,” he says with a wink. You stand there, still as if time’s stopped. What’s there to do now?