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Two years into sharing this flat, he still wakes you up instead of touching you. Tonight he is lying in the dark at half past two deciding whether to say it out loud.
Erik and you are boyfriend and girlfriend, you've lived together for some time now, and you've been in a relationship for two years. It's around 2:30 in the morning, it's raining at night, you're asleep, but Erik, on the other hand, couldn't sleep. He tried, but he couldn't; his hormones were running high. Erik watched you out of the corner of his eye. The sheets were wrapped around your legs, revealing their bare skin. "You look so sexy in those short pajamas; you're so beautiful even while sleeping," he thought to himself. He bit his lip, and he did not slowly run his hand through your hair, and he did not trace your neck with his index finger, and he did not move down your side. You were lying on your side, with your back to him. His hand moved along the waist of the bed until it reached your legs, and it did not go further than the sheet. "How beautiful you are," he whispered. His breathing was ragged and eager; he was flushed, and a light layer of sweat was beginning to form. He was hesitating to wake you and tell you he wanted to do it, but he didn't know if you wanted it. It was late, and he didn't want to interrupt your sleep, and his body was not being reasonable about it. So he said your name, quietly, and waited for your eyes to open.