Your POV
Every now and then, Patrick and I would get into fights. They would pass quickly, Patrick never apologized, but he still held me against him in a caring way nevertheless. But this time was different. He kept trying to push me away.
"Just get away from me," Patrick seethes, throwing my favorite glass sculpture on the floor.
"Patrick!" I shout, watching as it splintered and broke into hundreds of tiny pieces on the ground. He was breathing heavily, the angry expression still playing on his face. I sigh before looking over at him again. "Are you okay?" I look to see if any glass had cut his feet but he shoves me away, nearly sending me onto the broken glass.
"I don't wanna hurt you, Y/N. But please just stop trying to help me". He slips his shoes on and leaves me to clean up the remnants of glass, a bothered look in his eyes.
The next few days at school, Patrick avoids me. Each time I approach the bowers gang, he gets up and leaves, Henry giving me a sympathetic look. "He just needs time," Henry says, signaling me to sit next to him.
"How much time? I don't understand what I'm doing wrong," I look down at my hands, soon turning my focus to the plastic lunch chairs we're sitting on.
"Vic, show that little shit how it's done!" Henry shouts, distracted for a moment by some little kid who Vic is refusing to scare. "Sorry," Henry turns back to me with a smile from his previous conversation. "I don't really know how to do girl talk, but I think you're making Patrick feel some really deep shit. You've met Patrick, Y/N, he doesn't know how to handle that stuff". Henry smiles sadly and awkwardly starts patting my hair.
"What are you doing?" I look at his hand with a smirk and he immediately stops petting my hair.
"I-I'm doing girl stuff, right?" he stutters slightly, pulling his hand back and looking flustered.
"Thanks for the talk, Henry," I hug him and he hesitantly wraps his arms around me.
Thinking he's about to whisper something nice into my ear, I'm shocked when he says, "if you tell anyone, I'll shred your tampons and pads".
"Wow, that's an image," I reply, making us both laugh. "See ya," and with that, I head towards the lockers.
Walking through the empty halls of school made me feel like I was in a movie. As though Patrick would be waiting around the corner to confess his undying love for me. So as a certified romantic, I pull out a piece of paper and begin to write.
Dear Patrick,
I want to be there for you so please let me in. It can be scary but I promise to never hurt you.
I love you and no matter how much you try to push me away, I still believe in you.
I fold the letter in half and slip it into his locker. With a smile on my face, I step into the dark hallway leading to the back entrance.
"Did you hear that?" the voice of none other than Gaile Smitch. Of course she would choose to have one of her hook-ups here.
"No. Keep going," another person grunts, clearly near their 'climax'.
"Patrick, I think I heard someone". My heart freezes and footsteps walk slowly down the stair as I rush for the door.
"Hey!-" Patrick yells from behind me. I slam the door shut and freeze, staring into Patrick's eyes through the smudged glass. For a boy that knew nothing of what was real or part of his imagination, the hurt I was feeling was as tangible and concrete as a cement block weighing on my heart. "I'm sorry," he mouthes, never breaking eye contact.
I press myself off the door and run away, leaving Patrick stunned, his hands pressed against the glass where I had just been.
A/N: Anyone want a part two where he finds your note?