God, you wished he would just blame you. Or his siblings, or his parents, or- just anyone but himself.

Patrick had been resistant to the idea of having your birthday party at his family's house in the first place. But his sister had pushed, his family more than eager to have a celebration just for you.

It had gone perfectly until you accidentally gave yourself a paper cut on some gift wrap, resulting in an attempted attack due to the scent of your blood. It wasn't anyone's fault it was nature, and besides a few bruises and scrapes, you were just fine.

That wasn't enough for Patrick, though. Before you even knew it, the entirety of his family was gone, as if the past few months had been nothing but some fever dream you'd finally woken up from.

It didn't get any better as time stretched on, the way you spent your days looking less and less like living and more akin to a waking coma.

Through some revelation, you decided you needed to be alive again, be a person that felt. So adrenaline was your remedy, the rush you got reminding you that blood flowed through your veins, that your heart beat and your lungs could breathe.

You should've known, though, that you would never really be alone back in Forks. Not with the special abilities Patrick's family so effortlessly demonstrated.

That must have been why Patrick was finally here, now, standing in your room after months of having dropped off the face of the earth. Before you can get a word in, though, he was in front of you, cold fingers making sure you were really there, before releasing you.

His tone was admonishing, like you were a toddler that had been found trying to climb a bookcase. "Do you know how dangerous that was? You could have- I thought you died."

Ah. Someone told him about the cliff jumping.