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“Jean, come to bed! It’s cold without you!” Marcos voice pleaded with me from the bedroom as I dried my hair.
“Alright, alright. I’ll be there in 30 seconds, I’m not sleeping with wet hair.”
He groaned and mumbled to himself, “such a priss sometimes...”
“HEY I heard that!” I stumbled on the way to the bed, tripping on the clothes I had discarded before my shower.
Peeling back the covers, I sidled into bed beside Marco, slipping my arms around his waist and nuzzling my face into his neck. Our legs tangled neatly together, and he squeezed his arms around mine.
“See, this is much better than me lying in bed all by myself.” He giggled as I kissed his shoulder.
“I will always sleep next to you if you ask nicely. And even if you don’t, probably.”
“Only probably? ...I love you, Jean.”
“I love you, too, Marco.”
----
I groan and shiver as I wake up, noticing the clock said 3:28am. I fling my arm to the other side of the bed, reaching for Marco’s warmth, but find nothing. Confused, I sit up and rub my eyes, looking around the room. A few seconds pass before reality sets in, and I pull my legs up to my chest, tears starting to fall from my eyes.
Marco was never in the bed that night, and he would never be coming back to that bed.
Marco had been dead for 5 months.
“I love you, Jean.”