He had no idea what he had been thinking when he decided coming all the way to London was a good idea.
He had brushed off his friend’s suggestions of spending his birthday with them getting as drunk as possible; he had no intention in reliving last year’s activities with them, thank-you-very-much.
Instead, he had jumped on a train and arrived in London a few hours later, already beginning to regret his rash decision. He should have called ahead, to make sure his plans were okay.
Not that he actually
He had hoped being in the Capital would provide him with some inspiration, but sitting on the bed in his hotel room,
he had to admit to himself that he was as likely to think of a plan in the next few hours as he was to walk on water.
There was a light knock on the door, roughly dragging Gareth from his melancholy thoughts.
His lips pursed in confusion when he heard an impossibly post accent call, "Room Service," through the door.
He hadn’t ordered anything, had he? He had been such a daze when he checked in, it was entirely possible he had.
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