And that was the first and last thing I remember saying to him that night. The rest of darkness was filled with soft noises: rustling, whispers, and sighs.
"Troye...?" He mumbled into my neck. "Huh?" I answered stupidly. And he didn't say anything again.
He was gone now and all I had were those vague memories the darkness and the scent of the sheets. It was the best kind of morning sickness. The thoughts of him cured me and drove me insane. I bit the sheets out of plain insanity. I had no idea what to do with myself. I was just too happy.
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