Well, fuck sleep obviously so I wrote some stupid RO shit after a long break. Yes it's a drabble. Yay me.
She hated the mornings. Not because she wasn’t an early bird – she really wasn’t – but because how she felt like after one of ”those” nights. Her moments of weakness. Her going with what her heart told her, instead of rationality and logic. She curled up under the soft blanket as she rolled to her side. Her clothes on the floor, a reminder of how stupid she could be.
She could feel tears burning in the corner of her eyes, but she was damned if she let even one roll down. She had spent enough time crying over him. Of course, there was always a man. In her case, just this one, specific man. The rest? She couldn’t be bothered to even consider giving a flying fuck about them. She was fixated, addicted – and she hated herself for it. Hated how easily she gave in when it was about him. Hell, she hadn’t tried fighting her desires in ages. For one night, to be his sole center of attention – fuck pride, fuck all the phrases she otherwise repeated in her mind on a daily basis.
She didn’t really even bother feeling up the other side of the bed anymore, she knew he wasn’t there. He was already gone. No notes, nothing left for her to cling onto. That’s how their little ”play” always went. For one night, she felt whole, complete. She didn’t care about anything going on outside of the four walls giving them all the privacy they needed. She was too wrapped up in the heat of the moment, hearing him whisper sweet nothings to her as he coaxed her out of her clothes effortlessly. If she closed her eyes, she could still feel the faint warmth of his breath close to her ear. She truly despised herself for that. And everything else she let him get away with.
She had to get up. Sooner or later, so she went with sooner as her feet touched the cold wooden floor. The soul ascetic sat on the edge of the bed, staring at her messy pile of clothes strewn about the floor. Just when she thought there was absolutely no way she could hate herself even more, she managed to surprise herself.
She hid her face in her hands, taking a long, deep breath. No, she would not waste another fucking tear for this man. It was pointless. It had never been anything serious – at least for him. She had learned that very early on. Didn’t mean she liked it that way, though. He held all the cards and never revealed his hand, while she simply gave up and laid hers on the table for the whole world to see. She took what she could get and did her best to settle with that. It wasn’t easy and she always felt worse after each night.
The room felt cold, despite her wrapping the blanket tighter around herself. Maybe it was because of the fireplace that had gone out during the early morning hours, maybe it was because of the regret and melancholy she felt gathering around her. She no longer cried. She no longer bothered assaulting the innocent pillows on her side. She was done with screaming out her frustrations, her hurt. She sighed and closed her eyes.
The morning sun drew her faint silhouette on the floorboards.
”Please stay.” It was barely a whisper, filled with love and longing. There was no one to hear it.
