Morning Hell

Luna’s POV

Justin slept in. Great. My morning routine when he stays over is usually pretty solid, but today? I’m starting the day already frustrated, and last night certainly didn’t help. He spent hours acting like I didn’t exist, and when he finally did notice me, he... well, he finished before I even had the chance to get into it. It was over so fast I barely had time to get wet. And now, here he is, sitting across from me at the breakfast table with that stupid grin on his face like everything’s fine.

I bite my lip, staring at him, wondering how things got this way. When we first started dating, he couldn’t keep his hands off me. He used to worship me. Now? Now it feels like I’m some chore he needs to check off his to-do list. It’s been a year, but the passion... it’s just not the same.

“Justin,” I whisper, my voice hesitant, as if I’m trying to test the waters. He looks up from his breakfast, nodding as if he’s listening. I mean, I guess he is listening, but is he really paying attention?

How do I even say this? How do I tell him that the sex just isn’t doing it for me anymore? 'Hey, Justin, I’m sorry, but lately, you’ve been finishing so quick I barely even get started.' I can already imagine how that conversation will go.

“What, Luna?” he asks, his smile still firmly in place as he strokes my hand like it’s just another normal morning.

Before I can even figure out how to start the conversation, he suddenly stands up, walking over to his jacket. He rummages around in the pocket and pulls out a small box, returning to the table with a wide grin on his face. “Happy anniversary,” he says, placing the box in front of me.

I blink at it, feeling the tension in my chest tighten. “That’s not today, Justin,” I say softly, confused.

He shrugs, still smiling like everything’s perfect. “No, but I figured, for this week, you get a gift every day.” He leans forward, planting a kiss on my lips.

And just like that, any chance of having the conversation I was about to start evaporates. How the hell can I bring up my frustrations now? I look down at the earrings in the box, a beautiful pair that probably cost more than I’d like to think about, and force a smile as I kiss him back.

“Thank you,” I whisper, running my fingers over the delicate jewelry.

“When are you going to move in with me?” he asks casually, as if he hasn’t just blindsided me with the whole gift thing. I shrug, unsure of what to say.

I like my space. I’ve always liked it. Yes, it’s been a year, but the thought of giving up my little apartment, my freedom, and moving in with him makes me feel trapped. He must sense my hesitation because he smiles again, that same carefree smile that always makes me feel like everything’s easy for him.

“Don’t worry about it, babes. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be waiting.” He pauses for a moment, then adds, “But just think about it. Your stalker wouldn’t be able to follow you so easily if you were living with me.”

I chew my lip, knowing he’s right. If I moved in with him, it might be harder for the creepy gifts and messages to keep showing up. But moving in together already? I’m just not ready for that.

He kisses me again, brushing the concern away with his usual charm. “Think it over, okay?”

I nod, feeling the weight of the unspoken conversation still pressing down on me. Part of me hopes he’ll leave soon, so I can have some time to myself before work, maybe a chance to... relieve some tension. But, of course, he’s in no hurry. He starts talking about the party this Friday, and possibly going back to his after, and I cringe at the thought.

At my place, there’s no space for people to crash. It’s small, cozy—just enough room for me. But his place? If the guests go there after, all of his friends will stay over, and it’ll be impossible to get any alone time. I don’t want to be stuck playing hostess while he ignores me all night, just like last time.

“Come on, I’ll walk you to your car,” he says, standing up and grabbing his keys. “Just in case your stalker’s lurking.” He winks, and I groan inwardly. He always treats the stalker thing like it’s some kind of joke, and it drives me crazy.

As we walk outside, his words hang in the air. “Tomorrow should be interesting,” he says quietly.

I frown, turning to face him. “What do you mean?”

“Will your stalker know it’s your birthday?” he asks with a raised eyebrow. The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. God, I hope not. His gifts are weird enough on normal days—what would he send on my birthday?

Justin kisses me briefly as I get into the car, his smile as confident as ever. I drive to work, my mind still spinning with thoughts of what my stalker could have planned for tomorrow. It’s unsettling, and Justin’s casual attitude about it only makes it worse.