The Next Day

My body was draped over Marco's chest. His arm was around my naked waist, holding me to him while my head rested on his shoulder and our legs were tangled together. When I woke up, I set my chin on my hands to watch him sleep.

Like a creep.

Marco was a heavy sleeper. He wouldn't wake unless his biological clock compelled him to. It gave me ample roam to observe him in his resting state.

Even in his sleep there were things haunting him. He eyes shifted under his closed eyelids, his brow furrowed, lips parted with barely audible grunts. I traced a finger over the centre of his eyebrows, smoothing out the lines, feeling him relax under my soft touch.

The tension melted from his body. Whatever he had been dreaming of seemed to disappear.

It wasn't the first time I'd watched him sleep. He was beautiful in his rawness and I oftentimes found myself mesmerised just watching him like that.

His curly hair flopped over one of his eyes and my chest squeezed.

<i>Will he miss me?</i>