Rob’s eyes remained shut as the last of the night’s dreams faded away from him. Slowly, the senses came to him, and the first thing he felt was heat. 

There was a vibrant warmth radiating in the space in front of him, and it permeated him from his face to his feet. His face felt the soft prickling of hair grazing across it, and the texture was hair that was not his own. He became aware of his arm, one sprawled out, under a pillow in front of him, and the other was draped over, holding a body against himself, finding refuge by grasping their breast, holding them close. In his moment, he also became aware of his own excitement, and as his eyes opened, he saw blonde hair, tangling ahead of him, pulling him in, releasing their scent. 

And it was beautiful. 

In this fleeting moment he felt closure, he felt peace. In his mind, amidst the chaos and noise of the album he had heard before he slept, remembered the piece locked in the middle, between the noise and rage. And it was warm, and it was good. [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r_1ZErwritI]Nine Inch Nails - A Warm Place[/url]

He breathed in, deeply, before slowly exhaling, watching the hairs surrounding his face rattle and shake from the gust. Slowly, the world around seeped into his moment. Thoughts of the tour. Thoughts of Jane. Thoughts of her…infidelity? 

No. That wasn’t right. Jane wasn’t his to have. She never was. He was always there, sure, but her life wasn’t his to choose. And as they slowly drifted apart, from each other and from their collective past, she was less and less a part of his life and more a part of her own. 

The past was so sure, so solid. There wasn’t a need for discussions, for intensity. For anger. Rob knew exactly what he was to Jane, and he felt that she felt the same. But as the years passed, there was this undeniable confusion of roles. An identity crisis. Somewhere between the past and where he lie, on this couch, on this morning, the roles had long since faded. And there was no way to have stopped it from happening. 

Rob didn’t know how Jane felt of him. It wasn’t something he had ever questioned before, but he sure was questioning it now. All he knew was that he was growing an attachment; a dangerous connection, and that the longer he denied it, the longer he denied himself. 

“[i]What have we become?[/i]” He said softly, barely louder than a whisper. 

Rob released Jane from his grip,and softly turned over, hoping against his better judgement that whatever the night had become, it was remain as so. He grabbed his phone, checking the time, and knew they had to leave in an hour. Looking around, no one had awoken. Hoping not to accept their host, Rob slid out of the bed as softly as he could, and walked out to the patio, taking his Newports with him. 

As the harsh, rich scent of tobacco hit his nostrils, he tried to forget what had happened. Maybe that was for the best. Even if he knew, he most likely wouldn’t.