Honeypie (Oliver Sykes)

2

He laid awake regrettably naked next to his wife. Sex never felt like sex anymore. It felt like more of a chore now than it ever had been. Whenever something went wrong between his and Alissa's marriage, they usually resolved it in the bedroom and went about life like nothing happened. He was beginning to despise the woman he claimed to love for many years. He didn't want to act all lovey dovey in front of cameras to a woman he no longer loved. He realized that's what it was. His whole marriage from start to finish had been an act. A selfish act on his part. He was so torn after finding Hannah with another man that he ran off and married the first woman that wanted him after his divorce. And now he turned around and did the exact same thing to Alissa by running to Evelyn when things got too bad. The difference between his relationship with Evelyn was that he didn't run to her for sex when he was feeling stressed or infuriated. No, he'd run to her for comfort. He'd show up at her door like he is right now, she'd let him in, and they'd watch movies or cuddle and see who could sing the most out of key songs ever. He raised his fist and lightly knocked on the door. He stood back and waited. It took thirty whole seconds before a tired looking Evelyn was stood in the doorway with sad eyes that mirrored his own. She knew about his sleep paralysis and he hated how he told her that same excuse every time.

"Again?" she asked softly and he looked down at her with glossy eyes and nodded. She always thought he cried because of the demons that roamed around him when it happened. In reality he cried because he couldn't bear the weight of telling her the truth. Yes he still had sleep paralysis from time to time and at first Alissa had woken up to comfort him at the start of their relationship but now she just dismissed it as normal and left it be. Evelyn opened the door a little wider and he squeezed passed her to get to the all too familiar bedroom. His shirt went first, being thrown somewhere near her dresser. Next was his belt and shoes that laid wherever he dropped them. Lastly was his tight skinny jeans that he kicked off as he stood next to the bed. She stood in the doorway and took in the canvas that was his body. Tattoos lined every inch of exposed skin and she found herself wondering how many he had gotten since they met. She watched as he pulled back the blanket and climbed into his side of the bed he had claimed a few months back when they first hooked up. His eyes roamed towards her smiling figure and motioned for her to lay next to him. With an eye roll, she walked over towards him and curled into his side. He was falling harder and harder for the emerald eyed woman than he ever did for his own wife.