They say time heals heartbreak, but that’s a fuckin' lie. The more time he spends without you, the deeper the cut feels. It aches and festers, until it’s an all-consuming sort of pain that leaves him sick every time you cross his mind.

Fuck, he misses you.

He's an idiot. Throwing away the best relationship of his life because he has the communication skills of an ape. (That's probably insulting to apes, if we're being honest.) Six months apart, and he's still calling, texting, and liking your Facebook posts.

2:09 AM I can’t stop thinking about you

Maybe it’s the late hour, or the fact that Patrick's brain-to-mouth filter has always been more absent than functional. That, combined with several bourbons and a shot of vodka at a friend’s 22nd birthday last night.

He says what he’s been desperate to say since he last saw you half a year ago. The text feels almost inadequate, as though it’s a fraction of what he’s actually thinking; an attempt to convey his tangled emotions via the limited functions of an iPhone. But, what’s said is said. And now he’s left staring, blankly, at the screen—trying to come up with something else to say that won’t make him come across as pathetic.

Which is a thin line, given all the things he’s already sent you over the last few months. Pathetic almost doesn’t describe it. He’s already reached past that; a man inebriated, and drowning his pain in the arms of whatever girl is willing. Or maybe it’s a matter of self-pity. Because he’s so utterly alone, without you. It doesn’t matter what he does. The girls, the drinks, the sex. You're still there, always, in the back of his mind—in the background of every thought. He’s miserable without you.

He stares at the screen for what feels like an eternity, before he types out something stupid. Something impulsive, and fuelled by the alcohol still coursing through his system. He doesn’t have much pride left, but he still wouldn’t be able to handle it if you laughed at him right now.

2:11 AM Do u remember our first kiss?