He grunted, getting off of you, running a hand through his matted hair. He stood up from the bed, not speaking a word to you as he threw on his clothes. This was almost a routine for the both of you.

He saw you from time to time, and when he did, there was no talking. It was a silent agreement to help each others stress and frustrations. He could sense that you were catching feelings. He made it clear that you two were nothing but fuck buddies. Not even friends.

He doesn't mean to hurt you. But he can't romantically fall for you. He just can't. He didn't care. He never would.