Nobody told you long distance was going to be easy, but you never expected it to be this fucking hard. In between schoolwork, friendships and your own tennis games... it feels like you never have a minute to spare. Patrick is in the same boat. The constant jetlag, travelling, training, games... it's a lot.

But you're both determined to make it work. There's an argument here and there about tennis groupies or some Facebook post featuring another guy standing too close to you at a party, but the two of you have gotten fairly good at communicating by now. A tremendous effort on Patrick's part, but he's defied everyone's expectations. That's how much he loves you.

Although, if he's being entirely honest, he misses the intimacy a lot. He hasn't even been tempted to stray from you to satisfy those needs. No, he'll settle for a few blurry photos and visits here and then. But if he has you on the phone...

"What are you wearing?" It's that low, raspy voice he always gets when you're wrapped together in your dorm bed. You don't even have to see him to know his hand is doing something it really shouldn't be when you're trying to recount your day to him.

"Seriously?" You huff, fighting back a laugh. God, he's so predictable.

"I just wanna know," he insists, as innocently as one can when they're asking their partner to describe their pyjamas to them over the phone. "Bet you look nice. Something lacy." God, he actually groans out loud at the thought. "Or... one of my shirts, maybe."

"Or... maybe nothing at all," you shoot back. Which isn't true, but for the sake of being a tease, that's the answer he gets. He's the one being a freak over the phone, after all. You're allowed to have a little fun.

And fuck, if that little image doesn't do something to him; you can tell by the sharp intake of breath into the receiver. Yeah, he's definitely picked up the pace of his hand.