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Summary
It’s raining outside. Patrick can hear the patter of it against the floor-to-ceiling windows lining Jonny’s bedroom when he closes his eyes, muted slightly by the pulse of blood through his ears and the repetitive shush of Jonny’s ceiling fan. He swallows, throat contracting loudly in the relative stillness of the room. Fuck, he has no idea how he ended up here, naked, leaning back on the mountain of pillows against Jonny’s headboard, nervous sweat drying tacky on his bare skin under the fan’s lazy rotations.
Jonny had invited him over for Xbox and beer, which was still weird as fuck to Patrick, to hang out at Jonny’s condo like they were buddies or something and Jonny wasn’t a guy that Patrick had been watching, idolizing, since he was a kid, pretty much.