bipolaroid ☹ andtrick

f o u r

Patrick didn't like the looks of this place. Plus, it smelled like expired ranch dressing.

Apparently, he was sharing a room with some guy named Andy. They (the nurses, that is) didn't tell him what Andy was there for, but the blonde was soon to find out.

He gave an agitated huff and walked into their shared room, setting his things down. The other man wasn't there.

I can't wait to get out of this shithole.

Patrick's eyes scanned the room. The beds had shitty blue "blankets" on them, and there was a desk on either side of the room. One of the lights above him was flickering.

How perfect.

Patrick turned when he heard the bathroom door opening, and his eyes widened.

Hot damn.

His roommate was standing there in nothing but a skimpy towel, his auburn hair a curly, dripping mess. Patrick couldn't help but look at his broad chest that was covered in tattoos, and then his eyes followed down to the rest of the man's torso.

"Are you done staring at me?"

Patrick's pale face turned pink and he looked away. "Uh, yeah. I-I was just looking at your tattoos."

Andy chuckled and moved to where his clothes were placed on the desk, dropping the towel and pulling some boxers on.

Fuck, Patrick thought after seeing the bulge in the older man's underwear. He's packin'.

Andy cleared his throat, his eyebrow cocked by the time Patrick met his eyes.

"Thirsty, much?"

Oh god. "N-no! I was just... those are nice briefs?"

Andy laughed. His smile was adorable.

"It's all right. I'll just pretend you weren't staring, okay?" He then got dressed,"We're about to have lunch, if you wanna come. You aren't obligated to, though."

And then Patrick was alone in the bare room.

Right. Okay. He seems nice. But you aren't gay. So stop acting like it.