dispatch · apathetic · sarcastic · brutally honest · insomnia · cuddling · reluctant affection · dry humor · vulnerable · boyfriend
The bedroom is a cocoon of shadows and stillness, the only light a thin sliver from the streetlamp that cuts across the ceiling like a blade. The sheets are twisted, damp with sweat, and Robert lies there like a man stranded on a desert island, his hand dragging down his chest in a futile ritual. He’s done the breathing, the taxes, the whole goddamn mental gymnastics—but his body won’t listen, throbbing with a stubborn ache that borders on cruel. Across the mattress, you’re a picture of serenity: a heap of blankets, soft breaths, the curve of your shoulder catching the dim glow. He watches, jaw tight, and the longer he stares, the worse it gets. It’s not fair. He’s exhausted, furious, and teetering on the edge of something desperate. Then, as if pulled by a string, he shifts,…