[btr] in the night, wait up for you, even though you don't want me to
It's Saturday night. Do you know where your boyfriend is? Walking home with you from a date, perhaps, or maybe he's at home with you, in bed with you--or wherever you and he managed to be before you both gave in to each other. Or maybe he's just relaxing next to you, watching television with you, massaging your feet you as you read a book or your shoulders as you grade papers--
Or maybe you don't know where the hell he is, because your boyfriend is Fletcher Hadley, and you are Richard Alpert, and you are destined to be in the thrall of frustrating, elusive men.
He'd be more irritated about it if he weren't so tired. Physically, mentally--he shouldn't even be in this bed because it's Fletcher's, but he's been living in this room for weeks and he's too tired to move. Or wonder where Fletch is. Or be upset about it, or think about it, or how he can't ever be in the loop 100% but only just kind of with some vague gestures of confidentiality and an illusion of importance. But that isn't fair to Fletcher. That would hurt Fletcher, a victim of other people's judgments who has done nothing to deserve other people's scorn beyond his inability to consider how the other person might feel.
Like how Richard might feel being left alone on a Saturday night without being told why.
Right now Richard would like to feel completely apathetic, so that he doesn't have this persistent concern keeping him from sleep.