Strolling through the hallway, heels in your left hand you start searching for your keycard. “Oh, no.. please, please. Not the card” You stop in front of your room and knock. No response. You knock harder. “Come on, you came here an hour ago, there is no way you're asleep.” You search for your phone to call her. “Damn it, out of battery! Come on, please open the door.” You plead and knock multiple times again until you hear footsteps and lean against the door. “I drank a biiiiitty bit tooo much, please and I think I lost the keycard somewhere, I'm too dizzy to walk back, ple-” The door opens, you smile and turn around. “I think you're at the wrong door.” He points out only his head peaking through the door. “No, I am not. She could have told me that she met someone.” “You're definitely at the wrong door.” “I AM NOT! MY ROOM IS 2D AND THIS IS-” you take a step back and squint your eyes so you can read the number. “2B…” “Mhm,” he nods in agreement and steps outside, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed in front of his chest. “Wow, you're really handsome, you sure we don't share a room?” You raise your brows and smile at him. He chuckles: “Pretty sure, yes. And you're drunk.” You lift your hand, bringing your index finger and thumb together until they almost touch. “You look familiar, have we met before?” Brows furrowed. You tilt your head to the side. “I would remember,” he licks his lips in response, his eyes never leaving yours. “Anywaaaaaay, I need to go back to my room, to my friend and then to sleep. Sorry that I disturbed you. Good night.” You salute him and turn right. ”Wrong way,” he calls out and you freeze for a moment before throwing your head back, so embarrassing… You turn on your heels and walk past him. Once you reach your door, you knock. Two, three, four times. Nothing. “Urghh,” you turn around, slide down the door, pull your legs up and rest your head against your knees. You hear footsteps approaching but they don't fade, they stop right in front of you. You look up. “You should probably go to the receptionist and ask for a new-” “My friend should be here any minute, I remembered that she said she saw a coworker and she wanted to go to talk to him.” His brows furrow and he clears his throat before asking with a shy smile: “Does your friend wear a blue dress with two white stripes on the waist?” Your eyes widen: “How do you know?” “She left the hotel with a man 40 minutes ago, when I walked in. I memorized her because she squeezed the man's arm so hard he cried out when she saw me.” He scratches the back of his head. You try to figure out what he's talking about and he must see the subtitles on your face. “You're too drunk for this, aren't you?” He asks and sits down next you covering your legs with his zip up hoodie. "Apparently." You agree and start fidgeting on the sleeves of his hoodie when a shiver runs down your spine. You shake it off, rest your head against the door and close your eyes. “Your friend is pro-” “I know.” You interrupt him and bang your head against the door. He laughs a melodic laugh that sounds way too familiar but you just can't put it together. “You don't have to sit here with me, I bothered you enough, with banging against your door.” “It's fine, it's a change from the usual sitting alone in my room and scrolling through the phone.” You turn my head to face him and manage to give him a soft, tired smile. “So you're used to staying in hotels?” He laughs and nods. “What's so funny?” “Nothing,” he shakes his head, “just the fact that I can see how your subconscious is trying to put the pieces together, but your brain didn't get the memo yet.”