"Where did you go yesterday?" Henry scolds, grabbing me around the elbow. "Hey, we waited an hour for you". I shake him off, disgusted he would even talk to me. They all knew what Patrick was doing and didn't tell me. "What's your deal?!" Henry follows me, looking uncomfortable as people start staring. "Are you mad because I threatened to cut up your tampons?" he asks innocently, whispering the last part.
"You knew!" I shout, turning and pushing his chest.
"Knew whAT?" he grabs me by the arms to keep me from pushing him again.
"About Patrick. You're all lying... chicken-shits! I thought you were my friends" I start to cry and Henry groans.
"Ugh, god. Please stop being such a girl and tell me what you're talking about!" Henry yells, shaking me slightly.
"I found Patrick hooking up with a girl in the stairwell," I finally say. Henry lets go of me, a shocked expression on his face.
"Y/N. I swear we didn't know," Henry begins, stepping towards me again. "He fucked up but but that doesn't change the way he feels about you or whatever".
"Well it changes the way I feel about him," Henry signals me to stop talking but I ignore him, "I hate Patrick Hockstetter and I never want to speak to him or look at him again!" I turn from Henry and angry tears start to fall from my eyes. Not caring about where I was walking, I bump into the chest of a tall guy.
"Sor-" when I look up I can't help but scoff, "matter of face, I'm not sorry". Patrick's lips turn up into a grin until he notices the tears on my face.
"Y/N," my name sounded like honey falling from his lips, as though it was the most precious word he knew. I wish I could kiss those beautiful lips without feeling a pain in chest. His tall frame towered over mine, his head tilted down to look at my face. "What did you say to her, Bowers?" he growls, looking up at Henry.
"Nothing you never told me," Henry sighs, staring at me and nodding before walking away. Patrick's eyes flit back down to meet mine and he looks away, too ashamed to hold eye contact.
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"I found your letter," he whispers, a shaky hand reaching into the pocket of his black denim jeans and pulling out the note. If I walked away, I knew I would cry more, but staying here in front of him was so painful. "Y/N?"
"Stop saying my name," I seethe, my red, tear-stained eyes looking up into his clear ones. He tilts his head to the side, as if he's trying to calculate my emotions in the same manner a robot would.
"You're upset," he states, pulling my body against his chest.
"Don't you ever!" I hit his chest but his fingers interlace and soon there's no room to hit him anymore. "I hate you I hate you I hate you," I exhale shakily and inhale his comforting scent. The feeling of his arms around me was torture.
"I know you hate me, I'm sorry!" he whisper-yells into my hair, his voice sounding slightly panicked.
"Let me go. Please". The cracking in my voice was no comparison to how broken my heart was.
"No". He presses me further into him, bending down slightly to rest his head on my shoulder, completely covering my tearful eyes and puffy face. "Please say it, Y/N. I need to hear it," he murmurs into my bare shoulder.
"What?" I choke out, too disgusted to melt into his touch. The boy who had so actively been trying to push me away now held me closer to him than he'd held anyone his entire life.
"Tell me you still believe in me".
I look up into Patrick's serious and desperate face.
"I don't want to lie to you," I answer and his grip around me loosens, his arms dropping to his sides. "Goodbye, Patrick," I stand on my tip toes and press my forehead against his, something we'd always done.
Flashback:
"How do I know you're real?" Patrick asks me, managing to appear sad even with a smile on his face.
"Come here," I pat my bed and he sits in front of me. I giggle and place my hands on both sides of his head, resting my forehead against his. He smiles, closing his eyes at the feeling of our noses lightly touching, our lips only inches apart.
"You're real to me," he whispers, his minty-cigarette breath fanning over my lips.
"It's because I am".
"You're real to me," he repeats the words as I begin to pull away, "please don't go, Y/N". He wraps his fingers around my wrists, as though savoring the feeling of my hands touching his face.
"Because I'm real, I have to go..." he whimpers when I fully stand away from him, turning and leaving my first love behind.
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