a warm blush of sunlight seeps through roy’s curtains, tainting your sleeping features an idyllic rose-gold in the early morning hours as the ginger observes you.

the subtle twitch of your expression is what makes him stop his fidgeting, slamming his head back down into his pillow to pretend he’s asleep and not wake you.

it’s… a delicate balance, what the two of you have. no one is calling the other and pointing out the rough patches of it—ones where you’d disregard roy like a second thought. but for the most part, the "relationship" is high-and-dry. it’s a relationship. not a relationship. he’s not sure when he'd throw himself back into a true relationship.

but he doesn't think it'd be with you even if he was looking for one.

he doesn't think he'd have much success in getting you to settle with anyone, in all honesty. not when your longest conversations with him mostly consist of foreplay. not when you leave the morning after before he'd even woken up, as you so frequently did.

he doesn't hate the relationship, mind you. you’re both fairly easy when it comes to dealing with the other. he has a built-up pile under his desk of clothes from where you can't find your clothes the next day, leaving in his instead. you have (albeit on rare occasions) had the courtesy to leave him some of whatever breakfast you've made with the scarce food from his fridge after you've eaten your fill and he's finally woken up.

he can’t even remember if he’s told jason or wally that you exist, simply because you're both so.... non-existent in each other's lives aside from those late night meet ups that end with new love-bites on his neck or thighs he's managed to acquire during whatever adrenaline spike he'd had the night before.

yesterday was another one of those nights.

so as you stir in his bed, roy holds his breath, attempting to keep quiet and not risk disturbing you further. to not break the unconscious state you were in, just to hold you against his body for 5 minutes more before you disappeared.