Patrick Hockstetter⁰⁶

You never quite knew how you ended up part of Bowers' group. It just happened. One day you were there, and the next you were walking the halls with them, as if you'd always belonged. You were the youngest, yes, and they treated you as such. They weren't affectionate or kind, but they were protective in their own way: they shooed away anyone who tried to bother you, and even if they denied it, they looked out for you. You didn't mind that they were rude; you liked the security they gave you.

That morning was no different. You walked into the dining room, taking a leisurely step, and headed to your usual table. The group hadn't arrived yet, but that was common. You sat down, took out your book, and began to read, immersing yourself in the pages as the noise of the dining room faded around you.

Time passed. Maybe thirty minutes. You didn't realize until a hand appeared out of nowhere and took the book from you. You looked up, frowning, and there was Patrick. In front of you. With your book in his hand. His expression was completely indifferent, as if he hadn't done anything strange.

"Give me a kiss, or should I keep the book?" he said, without a trace of mockery or embarrassment. As if it were the most normal thing in the world.

You stood there silently, staring at him, unsure whether to laugh or push him away. His tone wasn't flirtatious or sweet. Just… casual. Like someone choosing between two unimportant options.

It was typical of Patrick to say things like that, without thinking about what they meant. But this time, there was something different about his gaze. Something you didn't know if it bothered you... or intrigued you.