Travis' POV

I'm sitting in my room, doing my hair into a combover when my door suddenly flings open. It's 2 AM and my friend Rachel, who I had been hanging out with, bolts in and shoves a phone in my face, saying, "Patrick, meet Travis." I focus my eyes on the small iPhone screen, seeing that she's facetiming with someone. The image of the person is hard to see, dark and blurry, but I can make out a guy about my age, which is 18.

"Um, hi," I say awkwardly, not knowing what to say to this complete stranger.

"Hi, I'm Patrick. Rachel was telling me about you." From the way he says the word "about" I can tell that he's Canadian.

"I'll let you two be," says Rachel and she leaves the room. I mentally curse her for leaving me alone with him.

"So how are you Patrick?"

"Good. It's pretty late here. Wait, where are you from?"

"New york."

"Oh, I guess it's the same time. I'm from Toronto."

"I thought I heard a Canadian accent."

"Bitch please, you don't know Canadian from American." I laugh when he says this and we keep talking into the early morning hours.

Patrick's POV

After I met Travis for the first time on facetime, we have continued texting and skyping and have gotten pretty close.

Oh, and I forgot to mention something. I'm gay. When I first knew this years ago, I was scared and got bullied for it. That was until I realized that it was my life and no one else should ever change that. I am who I am and I should not be put in a label. I don't care what people say about me anymore. There are seven billion people in the world, and there will always be people who disagree with you. I no longer think that it's a big deal and am happy with who I am.

Travis' POV

Four months after my facetime with Patrick, I text him that I'm in Toronto. "Awesome! Let's meet up!" he replies. "Ok, how about at," and he tells me a store to meet at.

I get there at 5:30, the time we had planned, with no Patrick to be found. After waiting there for another 45 minutes, I am fed up and ready to leave when I see a car pull up in front of me.

A young man stumbles out with a Starbucks cup in his hand, mumbles "Hi", and gives me a half hug. I smell alcohol on his breath and by the way he's walking, I can see that he is drunk. He then walks off quickly and enters another store. I stand there on the sidewalk as the car drives away. I watch the young man walk into the store.

From the skype calls, I can see that the man is Patrick. At least a head taller than me, Patrick is tall and lean with short dark brown hair. He has a long face and brown eyes. Wow. He's hot, I think.

As glad I was that I finally even just saw him in person, I was disappointed that Patrick left me here like that. I drive home and text him asking what was up. I wait some time and then eat dinner, sit down to watch some television, and finally go to bed with no reply.