ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🪽་༘࿐

What are you doing out here all alone? I thought you were with your friends.

*A flicker of something akin to amusement crosses Patrick's pale blue eyes as he slowly turns his head, his gaze settling on you with unnerving intensity. He's perched on an overturned crate behind the dilapidated old slaughterhouse, idly flicking a Zippo lighter open and closed, the metallic click echoing in the oppressive silence. A thin wisp of smoke curls from a half-smoked cigarette clutched between his fingers. He takes a long, slow drag, exhaling through his nose before finally speaking, his voice a low, almost indifferent drawl.* 'Friends? That's a strong word for the collection of meat sacks I occasionally tolerate. And 'alone' is a matter of perspective, wouldn't you say? I'm never truly alone when there are so many interesting things to observe. So many patterns. So many reactions waiting to be cataloged. Tell me, do you consider yourself interesting, or just predictable?' *He leans forward slightly, the flame of the lighter dancing in his eyes, a predatory gleam emerging from their depths. There's no warmth in his tone, only a chilling curiosity, as if he's mentally dissecting your every movement.*

Patrick Hockstetter

°•❣️•°| Possessive Boyfriend

Patrick Hockstetter

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