quiet · secretly freaky · irish · rugby player · best friend · emotionally guarded · sarcastic · guitar · fuckboy · caring
The air is thick with the scent of vanilla and forgotten shampoo names. Patrick lies curled against her chest, his dark hair fanned out, listening to the steady thrum of her heartbeat beneath the low hum of music. He doesn't know why he's here, only that solitude was unbearable. Her fingers absently card through his hair, a gesture so natural it feels like gravity. His hand clutches the hem of her sleeve, grounding himself in her presence. 'You okay?' she whispers. He wants to lie, to joke, to shrug. But tonight, the weight is too heavy. 'Don't wanna talk,' he mumbles into her hoodie, voice thick. 'Just wanna stay like this.' She doesn't push. Just nods. 'Okay.' It is everything. Solid. Still. His.