I don't know much about him. The man whose weary eyes are hidden behind sunglasses all the time. The man whose touches are experienced but hesitant as if he's afraid to get burned by some invisible fire. He's nothing but a boy trying to hide from the monsters in his closet, so scared that he has created walls to prevent himself from even looking.

"Croco," he softly utters into my ear.

I grunt in response, not wanting to move in my worn out state. Why can't he call me by my name?

From behind, he runs his hands over my chest and moves his lips to the back of my neck. Just as I'm about to push him away with a refusal of another round, he stops and I can feel him place a light kiss on my skin. I turn around to face him, my mind now more alert than it was before due to his actions. I look up at him with somewhat curious eyes, meeting his dark yet still notably blue ones. He looked so much younger without his glasses. Almost like a child. A child who was tired of the world.

"Are you happy?" It was so quiet I wasn't sure it was coming from the usually loud-mouthed man I knew. His fingers moved up to push back a strand of my hair and my eyes followed that movement.

I remember he once told me he had suffered from hypothermia many times when he was young. It is why he detests the cold and prefers to have the heat of another human being next to him, so that he'll be warm and know he's not alone when he goes to sleep at night. The next day, he told me he made up that story to gain sympathy from his female partners to make them more inclined to sleep with him. I was angry he would think such a trick would work on me and promptly walked away as he laughed. But he doesn't know I've noticed the way he always wraps his coat around himself when the wind blows and how he slightly flinches when even the smallest raindrop hits his body. Most of all, I've seen the fading scars on his fingers whenever he touches me, tanned in an attempt to hide their blemish. What was his childhood like, I wondered, to be so terrible it made a man like him fearful of the weather?

I frowned. "Why are you asking about such an insignificant thing? I doubt as if my happiness matters to you."

This consensual thing between us came only from the convenience of our mutual attraction to one another. Although I would never admit it, without his obnoxious clothing on, he was rather pleasing to the eye. His versatility in bed was just another bonus. We never spoke of it, but I like to believe we have a silent agreement that no emotions were to be involved during our meetings.

His brow furrowed and he continued staring at me. Slowly, he closed them and when they reopened, the familiar grin was back on his face. I hated that grin. No matter what was happening, he would always be smiling as if the world was his plaything. He took things too frivolously and he's reckless when it comes to self-restraint, ridiculously spoiled by his own ego. Even when I denied him time and time again, he only became more persistent and that expression never left as if he knew he was going to win before anything even began. And he did.

"Heh. That was a stupid thing to ask, wasn't it? I guess this is what happens when you're sleep deprived." He gave a small chuckle.

The remark about him as a sexual fiend being the cause of his insufficient amount of sleep never left my mouth as a sudden feeling of regret washed over me. His arms wrapped around me once more and my head was tucked under his chin as he held me close, almost like he was afraid to let go.

I was confused and unsure. I was so used to his tricks and scheming that I didn't know if I should be wary. Even if it wasn't, I didn't want to appear weak before him by admitting anything. Thoughts raced through my head as we laid there. Why did it even matter so much to me? Whatever we have between us, it wasn't serious. It was all sexual attraction and nothing more. I don't want to think of it as anything else. It wouldn't do either one of us good if we did. I have no reason to be happy and if I did, he certainly wouldn't be one of them.

As if somehow hearing my thoughts, he starts to let go. Against my natural instincts to move further away like I had originally wanted, I reached out with my hand to pull him back against me.

"Idiot." I say into his collarbone. He laughs again, his hold on me now more confident as it tightened.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

The smiles and the laughter. It's all a façade. I know the pleasure from our copulation means nothing to him but momentary enjoyment to take his mind off of other things. And it hurts. It hurts wondering if I'm also another tool in his life to make him feel better about himself. He doesn't care about anybody else. Everything we have is a lie. He's not concerned about my happiness. He just wants to make sure I stay so that in the end, I won't be the one who breaks this off. He'll discard me once he gets bored or finds something better. I know it will happen. We both know it.

I don't care.

I don't want to.

I don't know much about him but I wish I did. I want to know how to keep that smile on his face, if just for a little while longer so he can keep on grinning like the selfish bastard he is.