Will There really be a morning (From A Dream)

Thierry lay on his stomach, eyes firmly shut as he willed himself anywhere but here. or perhaps any "when" but now. he slowly rose on his elbows, keeping them closed against the drone of the too loud aluminum fan, accented by the staccato expulsions of air coming from his left. he turned his head sharply to the right, as if the act alone could banish him to physical isolation. As  if to underline this, a chuckle sounded just behind his upturned ear. he repressed a shudder and hoped the unavoidable shake would be attributed to surprise. His limit had been reached.
"whoa man, I keep forgetting you have real skills there." an affected gruffness and slight smack to his mid thigh were the last he could stand of it.
"Leave." He neither looked back nor made any move to suggest he had even been speaking to anyone but himself. he felt the deflation of his bed mate. Regretting the hurt, he nevertheless needed the distance that the word would create. there would be time enough for apologies and self - castigation later. he rose from the bed and retreated to the kitchen, putting the electric kettle to boil as he foraged for his customary morning croissant and butter, gracelessly throwing it into the toaster oven. he turned to the glass double doors that led to his backyard, glorying in the feel of the suns rays. A lazy stretch uncoiling from his core and making his limbs undulate in salutation of the morning, he mewled, now on tiptoes turning his back to the warmth. chuckling at the act of 'baking his buns'. his smile faltered and disappeared as he heard shuffling and then the spray of shower jets. The 'beep' of the toaster oven and bubbling of the kettle jolted him back into movement. as he slowly sang to himself.
"I cheated myself, like I knew I would.
I told you, I was trouble,
You know that I'm no good." a drop fell onto the warm flaky pastry on its porcelain plate. he hastily swiped at his eyes and resumed preparing breakfast for one.