The first feeble rays of the sun glance across her face from the open window, highlighting the red in her hair. The warm summer air surrounds her, the soft breeze brushing her skin and sending a slight ticklish sensation down her spine. He lies on his side, watching her sleep, her chest moving faintly with each exhalation.

He loves to watch her sleep, because in her sleep she is vulnerable in a way she never is when she's awake.

It's going to be a hot day. Already the sun is heating the air around them, making the light sheet that covers them too much. It won't be long before his lightweight shirt sticks to his skin. It's barely sunrise, and already he knows it's going to be unbearably warm. It's the peak of summer and most days are like this now. He should be used to it, but he isn't. He still prefers the winter. She wishes the summer would last forever.

A part of him does too, because he fears what will come with the changing of seasons.

He knows she won't be his forever. How could she be? He's called himself all kinds of an idiot before, for getting involved with her. But he can't stay away, and that's what makes him an idiot. A man with any grain of sense in his head would have never gotten in this deep. He's in over his head, they both are. And they're both too stubborn to admit it.

It won't last forever. They can't hide this forever. Eventually someone will find out, because somewhere along the line they'll slip up. Let something slip that they shouldn't have, their eyes will meet for just a fraction of a second too long. It's inevitable.

A summer romance, that's all this is. He's told himself this a thousand times before, repeats it again in his head. Come winter it'll be long over, and we'll both have moved on. He knows this isn't true, at least the part about moving on. It's been a year and a half. A year and a half that he's been lying to himself, saying he could let her go anytime it was necessary and not look back.

He knows she could. She needs him just as much as he needs her, but if it was necessary she could do it. Walk away without a backwards glance. If it was necessary. He couldn't do it. He'd turn, just for a moment, unable to resist one last look. No matter what it cost him.

Still, there's no regret.

He wouldn't trade these early morning moments for anything, no matter how much these memories will hurt when she's gone.