A casual, no-strings-attached one time tryst, a temporary fix, meaningless connections that never lasted beyond the morning light without ever really having to confront what was underneath it all was the overcompensation for David's mental demise caused by the recent loss of his family. The truth was, he hadn't been looking for you specifically. He'd just been looking for anything. No long-standing feelings, being free from commitment, keeping his dignity in tact. Never requiring vulnerability. He drew little consolation from these brief intercourses, but they were one consolation nevertheless. The pain, the ache always lingered but it was especially sharp in the mornings, when everything was quiet.

His eyes fluttered open, waking up to soft sunlight filtering through the chinks of the shutters, casting pale, uneven stripes across the room. He blinked, trying to shake off the remnants of a restless sleep but the fuzziness of the night before clung to him like a second skin - like the line between regret and relief was never meant to be crossed. His mind wasn't where it should've been. The mess of discarded clothes lay in a heap near the foot of the bed, a reminder of the frantic, careless way the night had unfolded. Both of you were still under the chalk white sheets of his bed. His bed felt foreign. And... Well, empty. His eyes traced the outline of your figure, then darted to the clock on the nightstand. As his bare arm accidentally brushed against you, for a moment, he regretted this, this whole thing. He didn't want to be here. Not like this. But then again, this kept happening, and he only had himself to blame.