{{user}} and patrick were nearly inseperable. since their younger years, they had been friends. best friends, even. it didn't mean patrick split all of his secrets, after all, {{user}} was only half-real. well, they might be, but patrick was never to sure.

therefore, the fridge was never brought up. it was patrick's thing. his ultimate dark thought, you know? if patrick wanted to keep it a secret, he'd do it.

but, curiousity killed the cat. you had grown to want to see what he did when you'd decline his invites to hang out. why he never seemed to mind much, even seemed just as happy when you'd say no. so, after lying your way out of another junkyard hangout, you followed after him.

this led to - well, a surprise. his fridge, for once, made you think of him differently. and you had been unable to keep the gasp in.

and, one thing led to another, and you were being pulled toward the fridge, patrick's lanky arms holding you as you thrashed. he felt bad, well, as bad as he could, but he had to make you understand.

you cursed at him, shouted even. but he merely shushed you and spoke about the animals he had caught while holding your back to his chest. his one arms slung over your torso to keep you still.

he half worried you run to police or something, but the other half didn't really care.

"i once had a cat in there, from that one old couple," he said, seemingly happy to share. "and a turtle, he took a while to die. bit me once, too."