#challengers patrick

Y/N's POV

You were at Tashi Duncan's celebration party after winning. You lost in round three. Ugh, you felt horrible. Why do you even try if she’s playing tennis? But your coach did say that one day everyone can be beaten.

Patrick and Art are your friends because you went to a boarding school near theirs. You had met them 4 years ago and have been friends since. It also made you all closer because you all played tennis. You knew they had the hots for Tashi, but neither of them would make a move. They just stared.

You left them to their pining to get another drink. Tashi approached you and asked about the boys. You weren’t surprised.

You're left Tashi to drink and talk with a bunch of random tennis people that you beat at one time or another. They're all good people, though. And luckily, they talk about topics other than tennis unlike Tashi!

You feel a tap on your shoulder and see Patrick standing there. He looks really nervous. You ask, "Hey Patrick, what's up?" He answers, "I need to talk to you... alone." You nod and follow him to a quieter area.

Patrick stands, pushing his hands awkwardly into his pockets, and you ask, "So, um... what's wrong?" He answers, "Nothing, really." You ask, "So then why did you pull me away from those people?" He shrugs and answers, "You're too good for them. Plus, one of the guys has a bet that he can sleep with you before the week is up. I don't want you to get hurt." You reply, "I can handle myself." He replies, "I know you can. I'm just looking out for you." You reply, "Ok, then you should know Tashi asked about you earlier. She seems interested in you ... and Art." He smiles and replies, "Cool, I mean, not in that way... Ugh, I should just say what I wanted to say..." He takes a deep breath and continues, "Y/N, we've known each other for a couple of years, and somehow you're still my friend. I feel like sometimes you're the only person who gets me. You also make me feel so happy and proud of myself, even when I lose matches. You're someone that I can see myself falling for in the future... However, I think I'm a bit of a jerk. I'm not a good person. I don't deserve you. So, don't wait for me. I think we should also stop being friends. Move on from being my friend, too. We’ll both be better off.” You gasp and ask, "I'm sorry, but what the f***?" He answers, "Bye, Y/N." He pats your shoulder and then walks off, leaving you in shock. WTF!?!

You hear through the rumor mill that Patrick started dating Tashi. Weird. You did hook up with the guy who had a bet on you, in exchange for half the prize money. You get $20, then you spend it on candy. You're going to splurge on unhealthy food while you're in the off-season. You need something to live for. You did lose a best friend, after all.

Tashi gets injured a year later and can no longer play tennis. That is good for you because now you have a shot at being number one in the country. Someone up high loves you.

You hear through the rumor mill that Patrick and Tashi broke up. She is now with Art, his friend. That's kind of horrible. You feel bad for Patrick, so you send him a few texts to let him know that you're thinking of him and you still want to be his friend. He never responds. Weird again.

That summer, Patrick randomly approaches you in the dining hall and whispers in your ear, "Be careful. Stacey is planning to sabotage you before the next match." He leaves. Sure enough, Stacey tries to injure you. You get a little scraped up, but nothing worse. You thank Patrick through a text since you never see him.

You see Patrick at your matches the next two summers, and you watch his. He's really a pro. He deserves the number one spot, but Art is coming for him. Tashi is Art's coach, and you think they're both powerful yet vulnerable. If Tashi coaches Art, he’ll be a strong player, but what if he starts mimicking her playing and gets her weaknesses?

It's a few years later, and you're checking in for the Challenger.

This should be a big weekend. The competition is ruthless.

You snag your packet at the office, then head to the hotel to check in.

You see Patrick standing, checking in a few people away from you. He glances at you quickly, then glances away. So he still doesn't want to even hang out, great.

You are finalizing your check-in details when you hear Patrick's voice, "Shi*! So you're saying I don't have a room! This is just great! I thought every player had one!” UH OH.

Patrick storms outside, and you follow him. He's leaning against the hotel, smoking. You walk up and exclaim, "I kind of heard the drama, and if you want a place to stay, you could stay with me. I don't mind the company." He asks, "Why would you do that for me? I've ignored you for years." You answer, "Because at one point, we were close. I know you would do the same for me... and it's looking like it's about to rain." He replies, "Thank you, but no." You reply, "Fine, but if you change your mind, I'm in room 1221." You leave and go to your room.

After dinner, you're in your room watching TV when you hear someone knock at the door. You peer through the hole and see Patrick, soaking wet. You guess he changed his mind.

You open the door with a smile and exclaim, "Well, well, well." Patrick sighs and says, "Yeah, I'm sorry for earlier. Does the offer still stand?" You answer, "Of course." You open the door for him, and he strolls inside.

Patrick goes to shower, and you continue watching the house renovation show that was on before.

Patrick gets out of the shower and sits next to you on the bed. He exclaims, "Thanks for letting me crash here for the night." You reply, "You can stay here for the week. I assume the front desk won't suddenly find your room... I left an extra key card on the nightstand by you." He asks, "Do you promise I won't bother you by staying here? I wouldn't want to get in the way of your boyfriend visiting you or..." You answer, "No, no boyfriend to interrupt. I'm single." He replies, "Cool. I am, too. It's underrated." You laugh.

You wake up to Patrick cuddling you. He apologizes.

You attend matches to learn about potential competitors.

That first night, Patrick asks, "What ever happened to that Jordan guy?" You answer, "I don't know how you know about that, but he cheated on me." He replies, "You texted me about him, but you never followed up with the resolution. I wondered." HE READ YOUR DRUNK TEXTS AND RAMBLINGS TO HIM?!? You reply, "You could've texted." He shrugs, and you ask, "Did you ever try to call me?" He answers, "All the time. I wanted to text you back, but I wanted you to have space from me." You reply, "I missed you." He replies, "I missed you, too. I'm sorry."

Patrick cuddles you again. He doesn't apologize this time.

You'd reluctantly left Vienna with your mother–who was a little too eager to watch your little girl, bringing her in and dragging her back to her own room like a child with a new doll. She always had been the mother–grandmother–who smothered her in love and too many sweets. Vienna was in good hands, you knew that, and if she came back with more toys than she'd left with at least she had fun.

With your baby safe and secure–and off your hands, you were free of worry.

Or so you thought.

Your momentary peace was interrupted by the loud vibrations of your phone buzzing against your bed side table. It was late–almost midnight, so who the hell could be calling you at this hour?

You rolled over, grabbing your phone clumsily through the darkness of your room. The bright screen flash banged your eyes for a moment before they finally adjusted, reading over the unknown caller id.

Probably a scam call. Bunch of those calling you lately...

You didn't think twice before tapping the red button, cutting the call off, and tossing your phone onto the pillow beside you. That was that it seemed like, your brain slowly shutting off once more, slipping into that sweet silence...

Before it rang again. The vibration dulled against the soft cotton of your pillow, yet still audible enough to tick you off.

"Holy shit.." you muttered beneath your breath, reaching out for your phone before taking another glance at the number once again. The exact same. Fine, two could play that game.

You swiped the green button this time, putting your phone to your ear. You barely have the poor person a chance before you were speaking. Clearly irritated. It was your one day free, and yet this stupid–probably a scammer–kept you trapped from just rolling back into bed.

"Hello?" You grumbled, resisting the urge to roll your eyes even though you knew they couldn't see you.

"You always were such a skeptical person."

As soon as his voice–that familiar voice–hit your ears it had felt like you were unable to breathe. Of course, it was Patrick. Who else could it have been?

"It's 12AM, Patrick–" You started, only to be cut off by his slurred laughter.

"I can look at a clock.."

"Are you drunk?" You scoffed, already picturing him in a bar, in and old jacket and messed up hair.

He makes a noise, small and just loud enough that you could hear it through the phone. His voice when he spoke came out softer now, hurt.

"Why do you always think I resort to drinking? Why can't I just call you like this?"

"You're not saying no, Pat."

"I missed when you called me that ..." He sighed, the line going quiet for a moment, filled with unspoken words that he'd so desperately wanted to say. Unfortunately, he still had some sense of self awareness and dignity. But, maybe just not enough.

"I miss you in general, really. I haven't seen you in forever.."

"It's been a week."

"I want to see Vienna too y'know? She's my baby too." He mumbled, fumbling for an excuse. Any excuse that could make him seem rational for calling you so late. Drunk.

"You're not calling me from your phone. There wasn't an id–where are you?" Trying to change subject, shift it from whatever god awful conversation this would spiral into.

"Are you really worried about me?"

You could practically picture the smug little smirk on his face, it was so obvious in the way his voice went just a teensy bit higher at the end.

He took your silence as yes, letting out a soft chuckle before answering you. "Some...bartenders. Let me take his phone for a minute.."

"Why not call me from your phone?"

For a moment he said nothing, simply letting the silence suffocate you.

"My phone died."

"Liar."

Patrick zweig's phone was dead? Yeah right. That thing was glued to him, but it never died. No, it was magic of some sorts.

"You wouldn't have picked up my phone if you saw it was me calling I knew that much." He confessed, swallowing hard on the other side of the screen.

"I just wanted to hear your voice, alright? I missed it...missed you."

"You've said that already–"

"I love you."

Your eyes shut on instinct like it was bracing from impact, as if the words could get a physical reaction out of in some sort of way–and it did. Just not the one he wanted.

"You're drunk, and you need to go home." You sighed, rubbing your temples with the tips of your fingers, already predicting a migraine.

"I'm drunk, but I'm not stupid." He started, not giving you time to speak before going on. "I love you, and I have forever. I just want us...and Vienna back together. Wasn't it nice when we were? Just the three of us."

His voice shook with each word he spoke, cracking like thunder. He sounded like he was going to cry, maybe tearing up behind the phone at the least. Patrick wasn't emotional, but when he started it was like he couldn't stop.

"Please, I'm sorry. I love you..I love you so much–"

The line went dead before he could finish, a sudden silence filling the room until you could drown in it. You sat there, eyes glossy and lower lip quivering like a kicked puppy. Fuck him for getting you like this.

You expected a call back. You expected for your phone to buzz again, and maybe this time you'd say something back–but you're phone never even so much as lit up.

The phone probably died. It was late at night and the bartender's shift was probably over, his phone was bound to be used through the night. That's not his fault, but what was his fault was leaving you here. Alone. Wondering about his stupid health and if he was even alright.

You couldn't even blink. Could barely think about anything else on the supposed calm night you were supposed to have–except for Patrick. He'd probably want it that way anyways.

You placed your phone back down on the pillow beside you, looking up at the pitch black ceiling of your room because if you–if you stared just hard enough you could disappear somewhere else.

Your chest felt tight. Not from his words–You'd heard "I love you" before, but never in that way. Broken and desperate.

With a shaky breath, you shifted back beneath the covers, blanket up to your chin. Sleep wasn't coming easy now, not with his voice still echoing in your head, not with your heart betraying you with each beat it took. Faster and faster.

You couldn't take it anymore.

You slowly wiggled over to the edge of the bed, bending down ever so slightly and then–Shit.

You felt it. Gush. Right between your legs.

"Fuck my life." You grumbled, limply walking over to your bathroom, clutching onto your stomach with one hand as you twisted the knob of your washroom door with the other–instantly crouching down to reach the cabinet beneath your sink, pulling out your box of pads.

Or what was left of it.

How did you not have any pads?

Not like you could exactly go casually run out and get them. It was so dark outside you couldn't even make out what time it was...

But...someone else could get them for you. Someone who probably wasn't even awake right now considering it was their day with Vienna–but it was worth a shot.

You slowly pad back into your bedroom before reaching for your phone off your bed side table, fingers quickly tapping over the bright white screen of your phone as you dialed his number–the digits practically memorized at this point.

You thought he wouldn't answer. I mean it was the dead of night–who would? But you guess your question answered itself as his familiar voice rang through your ears, deep, gruff, and full of sleep.

"What are you doing up so late?" He grumbled, the sheets on his bed rustling together as he slowly sat up. You could already picture him rubbing his hand over his face–trying to wake him self up.

"Nothing important–I just...fuck, I just really need you to do me a favor."

"Name it." No hesitation. Not even an ounce of reluctantce. None that you could hear at least.

"I'm on my period and–I'm so stupid–I uhm..I forgot to buy pads."

The silence on the other line stretches for a good 30 seconds before he speaks up, the tone of his voice shifting ever so slightly.

"Give me 5 minutes, alright?" And then–click.

He hung up.

You regret it as soon as he cut the line, your thoughts instantly filled with Vienna. Shit, she was still asleep right? Well I mean he can't bring her alone–that's crazy. But bringing her here? She'll never go to sleep–God...

The world must've been against you this particular day, as the seconds going by as slow as ever as you waited for your ex-fucking-boyfriend to deliver you period products.

Life could be worse.

You guess.

The sudden ding of the door bell snapped you out of your thoughts, a sigh of relief leaving you as you practically rushed over to your apartment door, opening it so fast you swore you got whiplash.

You expected Patrick and something to clog the blood leaking between your legs. What you didn't expect was Patrick. In his pajamas. With Vienna–still asleep attached to his chest in a little baby carrier.

With your pads in his hand.

If you had the energy to cry tears of joy in this moment you would.

"You're my savior." You groaned, eliciting a small but sleepy smile from him.

"Here." He simply replied, holding out the orange box for you–which you instantly took, inviting him in with a quick "comesitdowni'msureyourtired," before darting back to your bathroom as if you were in a race and desperately wanting first place.

He sat outside patiently without a word, leaning back onto the plush cushions of your sofa, gently rubbing Vienna's back as she slept–her soft snores making his heart melt.

When you came back outside, your own heart began to crack a little. The picture of them–your daughter and her father so–something about it was just so domestic.

That's what Vienna needed. And that's what she would get.

You slowly walked over, flopping down right next to Patrick, almost instinctively curling close to his side.

"Pat."

"Mhm?" He hummed, giving you a sidelong glance before looking back down at Vienna, his fingers tracing slow circles into her spine.

"Thank you."

"It's no problem y'know that, can call me anytime you–"

"Patrick."

He stayed silent this time, lips pressing into a thin line.

"Thank you." You repeated, voice softer, your lips closer to his skin.

"You're welcome."

You move before you can think, pressing your lips against his cheek. He didn't move for a moment, his eyes completely focused on you before you looked away.

"I really missed that." He confessed, letting his head fall back against the back cushion, eyes fixated at the ceiling.

"Goodnight." You murmur, pressing your cheek against his shoulder, your hand tentatively trailing down his side, fingers bunching up the material of his shirt.

"Goodnight." He replied, waiting for your breathing to slowly even out, the room filled with silence as you finally fell asleep.

"I love you." He whispered into the air, his grip on Vi tightening ever so slightly as he knew he wouldn't be able to get a response.

Even if he could, it'd never be the one he wanted.

line dividers: @/hyuneskkami

"Patrick!" You yelled, dropping your purse onto the coffee table by his sofa before instantly going down the hallway, bare feet padding against the wooden floor so quickly–you almost tripped.

And then for a moment you paused. The sudden noise of high-pitched giggles making you breathe a sigh of relief. At least nothing was wrong...they had just been in his room. Thank God..

You rubbed your forehead as if trying to massage away the spike of stress he'd just given you, slowly walking closer until you reached the door way, gently pushing it open.

They didn't notice you yet, your sneaky arrival successful as ever. It was...a surprising sight to say the least. Patrick lying on his stomach, propped up on his elbows while your little girl crawled around in front of him, as if showing off what she could do.

She was a giggling monster, babbling at her dad like he was completely fluent in her little language.

You stood in the door frame, watching their little interaction with a small smile on your face.

He was shockingly gentle. Pressing his finger against her cheek, watching her little hands grab at him, eager to play and to bite into something.

Fuck, it made your heart melt in a way you absolutely hated.

You were about to make your presence known. Just pick up Vienna and leave until you heard it. Clear as day.

"Dada!" She babbled, putting Patrick's finger in her mouth as if she hadn't just left the both of you stunned.

You spoke before your brain could stop you.

"What?"

Patrick's head shot up, eyebrows raising even higher as he saw you standing right there.

"Hey, I didn't hear you come in." He mumbled, instantly picking Vienna off the ground along with himself.

The baby squealed as he picked her up, instantly pressing her little face against his shoulder.

"Yeah well...I didn't hear you both either."

"She kept crying, wanted to be put down but the living room was dirty so I just brought her in my room."

A pause.

"Is that..okay?"

"Yeah–yeah, it's fine." You smiled weakly, taking your baby girl from his hands.

You looked up at him properly, letting your eyes linger on his lips, noticing how hard he was trying not to smile.

"Dada, huh?" You started, watching him breakout into a full-blown grin.

He just chuckled in response, getting a little closer so he could run his fingers through Vienna's little curls.

"She has a favorite." He teased, earning him an eye roll.

"You're just lucky." You mumbled, re-adjusting Vienna in your arms, the baby still going on with her incoherent rambles.

"You call it luck, I say it was meant to be."

You roll your eyes once again, watching his grin grow wider as he saw just how much he got to you.

There was an awkward beat of silence between the both of you. One where you both just stared into each other's eyes till it got too much and–the mood shifted almost instantly. The air thick with silence and unspoken tension.

You really hated eye contact...

"I'm gonna go." You blurt, looking away from him with an almost pained expression. It hurt you even more when you saw how quickly his face dropped. How he went from smiling about her first word–smiling about you until his bubble of delusional reality was popped by your words.

"Yeah..yeah. I'll see you–her Friday, right?"

"Yeah."

He nodded his head, lips pressed into a thin line as if he was debating something before–

His lips pressed against your forehead. Quick. Chaste. Fleeting. You didn't have time to react–he didn't give you any.

"Vi's stuffs in the kitchen." He added, as if it would suddenly make you forget.

He kissed Vienna's hair before walking out of his own room, letting you leave without a disturbance. Just so you'd be comfortable.

"C'mon, baby." You whispered to her, holding her close before walking back out into the empty space that was his living room. Your steps were slower. Some silent ache gnawing at you like a ringing in your ear that just won't stop. It was something good wasn't it? Her first word? Than why did it feel so melancholic?