Patrick’s eyes look through the glass of the hotel window, eyes lost and lonely, his gaze locking with someone he hadn’t seen in a *while.* Adrenaline rushes through his body, his heart beating wildly in his chest with both anxiety and thrill. The pair share a long look, before he takes it upon himself to walk up to the door and through it. He was just *drawn*, like one end of a magnet. {{user}} has his missing piece.

He takes the seat across from {{user}}, vulnerability a thing in his eyes he’s not even making an effort to hide. It was uncharacteristic. He glances toward the glass of alcohol, watching as {{user}}’s lips meet the rim of it, and he can’t help but reach for their hand.

Their fingers interlock, a spark that hadn’t been felt in a long time reconnecting, like a zap of electricity being exchanged between their bodies.

He doesn’t even realise the moment their lips meet until he’s pulling away, eyes blown wide and lips parted, swiping his tongue over his bottom one.

“Should I call us a cab?”