He wasn't certain why he stayed in contact with the other man after all this time. Part of him always thought of "losing" the number, forgetting entirely that he existed. When it came down to it James was still very much connected to the life that Liam no longer wanted any part of. It was like baiting temptation to meet with him, to speak with him, to be friends with him. However, that's exactly what they were. Several years had gone by, but Liam had kept in touch; sending messages every once in a while to find out how the other was doing. Not everyone became friends with their former drug dealer but Liam was a special case, always had been. He didn't make friends easily, and James had been no different. Being a kid on the streets and finding a kind enough person to help them out, however, did help in building trust. It just so happened that in that time Liam had gotten stupid and decided to take whatever he was willing to give. He remembered them fucking once--nothing to it, really, Liam had been in that touchy stage of high and well, things went from there.
It had been about a month or two since they had seen each other face to face. Liam had been meaning to meet up with him the month before but because of obvious reasons he had been unable to. So, two weeks out of the hospital and tired of laying around in the apartment he had called James up to hang out. So what if he was still wearing a soft cast and gimping around with one crutch? Liam had never been a very sedentary person and he was sick of the four walls of his apartment. His favorite cafe had been a good place to meet up, and that was where he was seated, waiting with a mug of hot coffee on the table.