The sunlight peaked through the cracks in the blinds, dusting the sheets in a light glow. The sheets rustled, the boy beside you stirring awake from the haze you’d been left in. He was there again, tangled between the silk encasing the mattress he knew better than his own. It wasn’t the first night you had ended up intertwined, far from it, despite the supposed casualness of your relationship.

Alex sat up, glancing down at your sleeping form beside him. The memories of last night flooded his mind, a reminder of what happened every night he came to your door, ending up a mess of limbs and sheets as you repeated the same mistakes.

He brushed a few strands of hair away from your eyes, letting his gaze admire you in the soft glow of the sunrise before he reluctantly pushed himself out of bed. He knew he should leave before you woke up, before you could regret the all too familiar encounter. But he lingered still, sitting on the edge of the bed, his clothes still scattered on the floor from the night before. He stayed, cause you had become the one he loved, even if you woke up without the same feeling. So he stayed, his fingers dancing over your arm, tracing gentle patterns like you were something delicate; your relationship that’d shatter if handled wrong.