There was a knock on the door- he knew it would be her. She was the only person that would ever come by that late. And with the soft knock from her tiny hand, he knew it was going to be one of those nights. It wasn't the first, it had been happening for months on land. Ever since they gave up on continously failing to defind...whatever it was they have. Or, had.

They'd be on and off, back and forth. He had now settled as just being her ' go to' guy. The shoulder to cry on, the bed to share. It was only for one night, but, it was several times. There was never a set schedule, it was always changing. But it would happen.

He opened the door, and his arms, knowing it would be her next destination. She shivered, unable to control herself. Even if it were to be the middle of summer, she'd be cold, always cold. She only came up to the middle of his rib cage, where his shirt would always be stained with her tears. He held her tightly, gently swaying them from side to side, kissing the top of her head. She would never notice when he did that, every time.

Sometimes, she would immediatly tell what " he" did. A majority of the time, it never sounded that bad, from where he was standing. What did he know? If it was enough to make her like this, then it was bad.

As though on cue, she would ask if she could spend the night. " Of course". It was always his response, always. He feared that sounding any less sincere would scare her away, and then he would spend half the night searching for her in the city.

She laid in bed, pressed against him, as though she was there every night. He held on to the hand that was draped over his rib cage, waiting for her to fall asleep. He'd always wait, in case. That, and, he wanted to savor the moment, since there were times that he would wake up, and she would already be gone.

Most nights she'd spend there, they would lay awake together for as long as they could. She'd stay nestled with her head on his collar bone, tracing the skin of his stomach. He'd stroke her hair while facing the questions she had lined up. They were always related to what " he" did or said to her, wanting to find out if there was any truth behind it. If she was really the vile person that " he" would sometimes make her out to be. She never was. But there were times when he was not enough to convince her otherwise. Not enough to tell her that if she was happy, she could see the beautiful person she really was. The person that he fell, and stayed, in love with.

And he would drift from day to day, questioning that very detail about himself. She was teasing him, it was so obvious to the two of them, it's not like either tried to deny it. It was never spoken of, he knew her actions were entirely unintentional. They were both very aware that all of it, the kissing, the touching, the sex, was only there when they wanted to pay it attention. Never any other time. She felt a strong obligation to " him" for reasons that only she understood. They weren't his business, she was strict about him not getting involved, keep things simple. Simple.

He was there for when it all fell apart, and it did. Actually, it never got back together, just enough stablity to last until the next time. He was the safe zone, the one who never harmed her, ever, never pushed her away, ever, despite if she ever did it. But he put himself out there for it, salvage what little he could, because it was better than nothing.

The clock ticked away into the early morning hours, he was still laying there, wide awake. Her slowly drawn breaths trickled on the back of his neck. It put him at ease, knowing that she could softly rest, knowing she was with someone who would, and does, love her uncondtionally. No matter what she said, or what would happen, no strings attatched.

He shifted against the mattress, turning in bed so he could tightly hold her in his arms. She did not wake, though readjusted herself to the new hold on her. It was for the best, right now. In the morning, things would be temporaily resolved, and she would be back with " him." But tonight, she was his.