You wake up. He’s right there, by your side, looking at you, smiling, like he was like this for hours before you open your eyes. And he was. He couldn’t stop looking at you, seeing perfection in all of your imperfections, smelling the pineapple essence of your hair all over the pillow. He couldn’t help thinking he is the luckiest guy in the world just for having you. He was made for you, as you are made for him.

You strech your arms, touching his chest as he frown his forehead. Your touch burns his skin with desire. He wants you. He wants you so bad. He catches you by the waist, pulling you up against him. Your faces are caressing each other before the sweetest and deepest kiss you’ve ever had. Every touch, gesture, kiss or word means that he’ll neve leave you, that he’ll never give up on you, that he’ll always be around.

You whisper his name by his jawline as he enters you, fullfilling all of you emptynesses, all the gaps of your soul. You have never felt this happy before. All of his movements makes you grow hotter and desperate, begging for anything that he could give you. You both come together. You both say how much you love and need each other.

And then he get up for his bath. That’s when the sadest realization comes to your heart, and you become cold. The time for real life has entered by the window with the sunlight, and now you have to go. You have to go because nothing’s perfect. Because you aren’t living a fucking fairy tale. Because the greatest happiness of you life is a lie, and there are people that wouldn’t handle with your happiness.

You pick up your clothes and tie your shoelaces. He’s even looking at you, and it hurts. You know he’s protecting himself. You know that he’s suffering just like you. But he could grab your hand. He could say that everything will be okay, even if it’s not. You say you’re leaving. He doesn’t ask you to stay. He can’t. You stop as he hold your hand and pulls you up against him, holding you tight, giving you a kiss. He asks if you know that he loves you. You say yes. You say you love him too, even knowing that it doesn’t change anything. You’re still going to wake up alone next morning. You’re still going to count the days left to see him again at work. You are his prisoner. Every single thing you do, you do for him. Just for him. Every single breath you take, every single heart you break. All for him. But just for the weekends.