I didn’t want him to go. I knew it was what he wanted, what he needed; I just wish he wanted to be with me more.

We had been together such a short time. We were still learning so much about each other.

Little things like the way he always put his clothes in the hamper while mine ended up in a pile on the floor.  Then he'd smile and shake his head when I tripped over them the next morning.

The way he always tested the water temperature in the shower before I climbed under it then proceeded to wash my body inch by inch with soapy hands until I was begging for him to fuck me.

The way he introduced me to new foods, giving me tidbits as he cooked, laughing when I complained they were too spicy.

I watched him from the corner of my eye as he sat marking papers, noticing the way the light caught his glasses, the way he ran his fingers through his hair when either deep in thought or concentrating; the way his clothes fit his beautiful body perfectly.

I committed all these moments to memory, to hold onto in the lonely days ahead.

I’d given him my blessing and approval. Now I wondered if I did it because I was a coward and couldn’t tell him how I really felt, how much I would miss him, how the fact we didn’t know how much time we may have together scared me.

I would wait for him of that I was sure. Six months, a year, I would give him all the time he needed to find what he was looking for, to answer the questions that filled his mind.

"Michael?" His voice brought me back to the present, and I plastered what I hoped was a convincing smile on my face.

I stood, walking over to the table, draping my arms around his neck, my hands moving slowly down his chest, feeling every curve of his body under the flimsy material of his shirt.

"You ready for bed?" I asked, trying to keep the tremble out of my voice.

He looked up at me, his brilliant smile taking my breath away.

He nodded and began packing the papers into his briefcase before taking my hand and leading me to the bedroom.

I shivered as I undressed and jumped under the covers as fast as I could, waiting for him to join me.

He climbed in, pulling me into his arms, and I rested my head on his chest, listening to the rhythmical beating of his heart, trying to ignore the sting of tears behind my eyes.

He was here with me now; that was all that mattered. I wanted to tell him how I really felt but I knew that I wouldn’t.

He would come back to me. That was all that mattered.