2. RecoveryMature

Marshall was awake before me; the space in the bed he left behind was cold as he forgot to pull the covers over his side. Usually that would annoy me so much I would actually get really mad about it, more than I’d like to admit. I guess we both make each other mad, irritated, even by little things. Little things would turn into big arguments. But today I didn’t care.

It was still winter, in the last month but not getting any warmer. The bedroom window was in full view of the bed; I loved taking photographs of the snow, fall leaves or summer sun from that window. Don’t ask me why but it’s something I really love.

I could faintly hear Marshall banging around in the kitchen, with curiosity rising I flung the sheets off my body, the cool air kissed my skin as I scrambled out of the bed. Marshall never cooks anything, or… he tries. He has his basic menu of basic meals but other than Macaroni and Cheese, there’s not much he can cook.

I pulled on one of his hoodies, the particular one I wore for the majority of his absence. It made me feel… secure, Marshall’s scent lingered and made me content. It was the black one, which faded to a grey, Marshall gave it to me on our first date because it was cold.

I found him, flicking the jug on, setting two white cups and shoveling teaspoons of coffee and sugar in both. He was wearing a singlet, his inked arms bared, his muscles defined. Marshall looked up, his blue eyes catching mine. His mouth curled into a smile, small but still a smile.

“I’m making coffee…” he told me glancing over at the stove for a moment. “And bacon.”

I chuckled and lingered a bit, we hadn’t spoken about what happened. I was unsure of what to do. But Marshall came closer, leaving the coffee for a moment to kiss me firmly and wrap his arms around me, extending my full core and squeezing tightly.

“I love you,” he whispered, sincere and honest.

“Me too,” I replied, closing my eyes and breathing in his scent.

I was lost for a moment, as he kissed me, biting my lower lip playfully and whispering deep and meaning-fulls. Its funny how someone can make you feel like this but also make you feel like shooting them.

*

“You didn’t have to make me breakfast,” I told Marshall as he took my empty plate from me when we finished eating.

Marshall smirked, giving me cheeky expression and I rolled my eyes. He asked me what I was doing that day as he walked into the kitchen and washed up the plates.

“I have to work in like an hour.” I told him sipping the coffee.

I heard him sigh.

“I can’t call in sick,” I said firmly. “My boss is on my case for some reason, I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“That’s cool, when will you be home?” Marshall sighed deeply and sat back beside me on the couch.

He slung his arm around me, sighed again and murmured that maybe we should talk about what happened. It was pretty much everything, but the one thing made everything worse. One word. Superman. The song, the video, the porn star.

“It wasn’t about you,” Marshall told me.

“That’s all I was pissed about,” I sighed.

Neither of us wanted to talk about the other shit that was happening, it was mainly arguments and miscommunications. For a while there we were at war. It doesn’t matter now.

“I have to get ready,” I sighed. “I’m off tomorrow, you can have me all to yourself then.”

Marshall smiled.

“I’m having a shower,” I said walked out of the lounge room and towards the stairs.

I heard him leap up off the couch and follow me. I chuckled as he began to undress before we even got to our room.

“You’re a show off,” I giggled, shaking my head as I undressed; although Marshall helped with that.

We were in a bad place for a long time, it’s definitely not great now but we’re in recovery mode.

The End

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