Rhys Pov
As always, I was just laying here. It didn’t matter that it’s been a few weeks, for me it’s been decades, and every night I go to sleep thinking about him, every night I dream about him, and every morning I wake up in tears because I want nothing more than to go back to sleep and be with him in my dreams. I wake every morning with my body aching, throbbing for him, for his touch, his fingers and his mouth against my skin as it was in my dreams, and I press my hands against my eyes and lay there crying, not caring if those outside my door can hear me or not. Then I lay there, curled in a ball, my eyes closed as I tried to remember. I start at the beginning, replaying conversations over and over again, remembering his expressions, his replies, his voice. I get mad at myself if I re
