A/N: Hello! This is my first Scrubs!fic, and I'm so excited to get this out to you all. I'm certain that I'll be writing more, since I'm in the process of doing so as I type this. I have another JDox in the works, most likely going to be titled My Choice. I can almost guarantee that any fics I write for Scrubs is going to be JDox oneshots. The only chance of me doing a chaptered fic is if I start something as a oneshot, then decide that I like it enough to continue. Who knows, though, at this point. If you'd like to be informed of when I write something new for JDox, you can either ask me and I'll message you when something is out, or you can just add me to author alert, since this is the fandom and pairing I'll be sticking to for a while.

Anyways, I hope you like this and review to let me know how I did! :D

Disclaimer: I do not own Scrubs, or these characters. Just my twisted ideas.

Warning: Language, suggestive content, slash, etc, etc.

Tell me you'll love me like a star,
Tell me you'll want me wherever you are.

"Oh, fuck, I love you."

He confesses his love each night. Moaning, panting, and more often than not, the accompaniment of a swear or two are part of the package. Throwing back his head in a moment of sheer ecstasy, he tells you that you are his everything, his world. You're the one. And in that moment you believe him, since it just feels so damn good to let yourself believe. But you know that when he's done, he'll leave - he never stays the night - and when you see each other at work, he is nothing more than your boss, and you are nothing more than a thorn in his side.

He's finished now, and slumps down on the bed beside you. You know what's coming - it's been the same routine for the past year. His ice blue eyes pierce your own, and he reaches out to run his hand through your short black hair. He makes a joke about how much product you use, which is the only thing that varies each night. He'll get out of bed and sigh, picking up and putting on the clothing that have been strewn about the room. He runs a hand through his hair to make sure that there is no evidence of the events that have occurred for his wife and son to find.

Once in a while, he'll leave after this, without so much as a parting glance. It's on these nights that you find yourself crying yourself to sleep, hating yourself, and him, a bit more with each occurrence. But most of the time, he'll turn back to you, walking over slowly. And even though you know it's going to happen, your heart races and your blood boils when he cradles your face in his hand and kisses you gently, as if you weren't just an outlet for his stress and frustration. His gaze lingers for just a moment. Just long enough to give you hope that you mean something to him, even if his only confessions of this take place when he is thoroughly incapacitated.

"See you at work, Newbie."

And then he's leaving. Generally, you nod and smile, and tell his back that you love him as he's already halfway out the door. You're completely satisfied with your relationship, because even though he goes back to his life with his wife and child after each of his "visits," he comes back each night, always. You clutch your pillow and fall into a blissful sleep, already looking forward to the next time he came around.

Tonight was different. You call out his name before he leaves, and he whips around, annoyed. He doesn't like broken routines. But you know that if he leaves now, there will be no sweet dreams and restful sleep for you, because you need to know what you're doing. Why didn't Perry ever stay the night? Why didn't he ever just call you by your name? Why did he always come back? And for God's sake, why did he never tell you that he loves you outside of the bedroom? Outside of the bed, for that matter?

You feel very small as you insist on knowing the answers to these questions. His gaze silently berates you before he even opens his mouth. Just as he is about to respond, however, you interject with one more question that voids all of the others, breaking them down to their very core.

"Do you really even love me?"

He looks at you with troubled blue eyes, the eyes of a man who has seen things that no man should ever have to live through. You think, for just a moment, that you see pity swamp his harsh features, but it was gone in the blink of an eye, replaced by a humorless, but not cruel, smirk. He swipes at his nose and crosses his arms before saying exactly what you want to hear:

"Of course I love you, J.D."

There is no explanation of why he would never leave his wife for him. No apologies for his cryptic behavior and cruel nature. Above all else, there is no love, even as his eyes find yours and try to assure you of just the opposite. Any other night, this small sentence might have elated you, giving you hope for the future. But tonight, it just sounded like another way that Perry planned to keep you running back for more.

He leaves, and you swear to yourself that tomorrow night will be different. You won't let him into your apartment - into your bedroom.

You laugh at yourself as bitter tears slide down your cheeks, knowing against all hope exactly what would happen tomorrow night. After all, it was the same thing that had been happening each night for a year. He would come in here and sweep you off your feet, lying those sweet, sweet lies to you all night, telling you everything you wished could be true.

He hurt you in ways that only a person in love could be hurt. But at least he loves you, too... right?

Tell me you'll breathe me until your last breath.
Liar, Liar.