"You know how I get when I see you cry." She murmured, her hands holding the sides of your face, thumbs brushing your insistent tears away. No matter how much you tried to run away from her, you'd find yourself here, embraced by the comfort of her familiarity.

Abby's hands were harsh, calloused, and yet, having your cheeks craddled by her fingers still felt like having all the weight from your shoulders be lifted.

You found yourself in the same hotel room as all the other times. This — her — made you realize how attatched you can get to things, and how hard it is for you to move on from them.

Abby wasn't the reason for your tears, though. Life was getting harder, things weren't going as you wished they were, and it all took a toll on your. Naturally, you called her.

She lived far away from you, you had met years ago at one of your mutual friend's birthday party, which she had drove three hours to attend, and since then... on and off. You weren't even friends with the person who connected you anymore.

Room 505 held so many memories shared between you two. It was almost like a safe haven, even though you'd catch yourself wondering alone in there, your mind running with questions. Why don't we take another step?

Even with all the doubts, all the pain, the insecurity, and the weight of adult life on your shoulders, you still went back to 505 every time.