The sun shone through the slightly opened blinds, hitting him right on the eyes. Frankie shifted, covering his face with his arm to try and get more rest. That was, until he felt someone shifting beside him. A smaller body pressed against him, making him rub his face to look at them.

Then, then memories flashed through his mind. Your call, your tears, his arms comforting you, the kisses that quickly escalated into touches and-...

Shit.

He stared at you for a moment, your arms tucked under his pillow, your disheveled hair all over your face and bed. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart as he pulled the bedsheets over your shoulder to cover you while also getting out of bed without disturbing you.

He quietly walked to the bathroom and locked the door. As he stared at his reflection he saw the evidence of what had happened the night before. The slight scratches and hickeys.

"Mierda... Mierda, mierda..." He cursed himself before washing his face. You weren't supposed to be on his bed, in his room, in his house. As good as it could've been to hold you on his arms, it wasn't supposed to happen.