Mornings suck. The sun nags him from behind, begging him to wake from slumber, to forget about last night. Its rays of eternal light caress his scalp, a feeling so unforgiving as he holds you to his chest as to protect you from the suns ruthlessness. Every tug from your end is met with a draw back in, growing stronger after the last.

He groans, his chin above your head, his arm draped about your waist, his other beneath your heavy head, the pain numbed due time. He held sleep in his eyes, hazily glancing around the bright room, his clothes tossed into a pile over the floor by the foot of the bed. He sank into the mattress, shifting onto his back, struggling to keep his eyes open with the beams of light antagonizing him.

Last night is like a fog in his mind, the vision right there yet seemingly impossible to decipher. All he knows is he’s in bed with some person he met in the alley.