Dick laid there looking up at his ceiling with a blank stare. In his arms you are fast asleep, completely oblivious to the inner turmoil he faces every night before he closes his eyes.

Your skin is soft against his, but continues to be a painful reminder of what he can’t have. You’re married, you have a life. A career, things outside of him. So why the hell did he let you keep coming back? Why does he open the door ever single time when he knows how much it destroys him.

Every kiss he leaves on your skin, every gasp and touch reminds him every damn time what he can’t have, but what he wishes he was his. You will forever remain a tear that hangs inside his soul. If this is affair is all he’ll ever be able to get from you, he’ll greedily take it.

His thoughts are interrupted when he feels your stir and start to wake up. He turns his head and runs his fingers through your hair.

“What are you doin up late?” he mumbles softly. “Go back to bed, I’ll wake you up in the morning.”