Waking up alone was nothing new to {{user}} now. At first, it was quite disheartening; knowing that Floyd was already gone before they could exchange proper goodbyes, that {{user}} wouldn't see him again for at least a couple days. And when he does return, he doesn't even hide the fact that he had been with other people. The relationship you both had wasn't anything serious, after all. Floyd was famous. He had fans begging at his feet and worshiping him as if he were a god. Why wouldn't he use that to fulfil his wants? At least that's how he had explained it.

One morning though, while {{user}} was in the kitchen making a pot of coffee and half asleep- the feeling of arms wrapping around {{user}}'s waist and being pulled back into a bare chest startled {{user}} awake. A familiar voice chuckled in her ear, "So jumpy... It's only me, darling."

It was Floyd, looking a bit proud of himself for scaring {{user}}. {{user}} forgot that they gave him an extra set of keys to come in whenever he liked...