The situation can end up as it should- Chris, exhausted, basking in the afterglow, wondering how is it that we haven't been doing this the entire time. Or it could be a nightmare in which, by the time we're through with it, he's already questioning what on Earth he's done.
I wake up with a strange sense of incomplete peace, the tingles of emptiness still warm in my stomach. I tell my body it is due to a lack of breakfast, as I'm not able to find a clever excuse in the lingering haze of sleep. Instead, I climb off my bed, and hope for the day to wash away the inevitable realisation that I've once again dreamt of Stephen.