When she finally draws away, there's a weird relief, like I was holding my breath until then. I think I kind of was, just waiting for it to happen. Though I know parting quickly is probably the smart thing to do, having just these few minutes after feels good in a way that hurts, an ache in my chest that's unfamiliar. It's not for her, not really. Just for what she does. For what she doesn't even know she gives. And now that she's taking it away, I almost want to thank her for that, too, because she's right, she should get dressed and go, I should get back to where I've hidden myself away, or else I'm going to do something stupid here.

I've been almost completely alone for the first time in my life for weeks now. And maybe people would say that the company I had back home wasn't worth much, maybe I would even say that, but it was mine. It was my family, no matter what shit we put each other through. Life here is dizzyingly strange, confusing, but her softness throws me more off-kilter than all the rest of it. I can almost feel a sob rising up in my throat to choke me and I don't know anymore why. I just know I should get away from her before it happens.

She's so beautiful, though, her skin blue-white with moonlight, and I want to kiss that spot at the base of her spine. I want to pull her back to me again, fuck her again, and I want her far away from me. Wanting anything else feels like a kind of betrayal and it's probably better for us both this doesn't happen again. Except who would it hurt if it did?

It's cold this late at night, but my t-shirt clings to my back as I sit up to look for the bottom half of my clothes. "Right, yeah," I tell her. "Me, too."