Pain & Gain

Chapter 8

The apartment is near freezing tonight. Even though it's been weeks since Josh's passing Marshall's been distant. Even now I sit on the couch alone with the TV displaying the news in front of me. He's in our room, sleeping the last time I checked. I should probably check again to make sure he's still breathing.
I stand up from the couch and start toward the room. I walk slow, hesitant. I don't know what type of mood he's going to be in. As I near the room I hear music through the door. Before opening it I press my ear against the wood trying to identify the song. I know the melody. It's "I Miss You" by Blink 182. He's listening to the CD I gave him. I can't help but smile to myself. It's been months and he still listens to it.
Working up the courage to open the door I take a deep breath and twist the knob. I push the door open and see Marshall laying on his stomach on the bed. It's dark in here, and feels even colder. He lies without cover in just his boxers. Isn't he freezing?
Marshall raises his head and meets my eyes for only a second when he hears me come in. Then he flops backs down to the pillows and lets out a short, agonized grunt. He's upset again. I walk around to my side of the bed and roll in next to him. I keep my distance, laying on my back and at least a foot away from him. I take another deep breath in and exhale slowly.

"Are you sleeping?" I ask his motionless body, already knowing the answer.

"No." His voice cracks.

"Have you eaten?"

"No." The word sounds even more broken this time.

"Marshall come here." I demand, pulling on his forearm.

He rolls over slowly and I see his watering eyes. I put my hand against his hot cheek and kiss his temple. Marshall moves his head to rest on my chest and tosses his arm across my hips. My right hand scratches his back lightly while my left entwines with his.

"When's the funeral?" I ask him softly, hoping that he'll realize it's not good to hold it in.

"There's not going to be one." He turns his face against my hips. "He had made arrangements to be cremated and buried. He didn't want a funeral."

"We can't change that?" I twist the hair at the base of his neck.

"I tried." He huffs out a sad, long breath. "They wouldn't let me. He got it all legalized."

"I'm sorry." I bend down and kiss his forehead.

He grunts, and then buries his face back in my body. This isn't healthy. He can't live like this, staying in bed all day and letting his feelings eat at him. He needs to be around his friends. We need to do things like we used to. He has every right to be sad, but I should at least try to distract him.

"Wanna go get some food?" I ask him.

"No."

"Wanna go walk around downtown?"

"No."

"Wanna mess around?" I try in one last attempt to get him to do something that isn't just sitting here.

"No."

"Marshall." I say harshly.

"What?"

"You can't just stay in bed forever it's not good for you." I explain, getting out of the bed. "Let's go, come on."

"Where?" He rubs his eyes and rolls onto his back.

"Let's go to Recovery. That's like your favorite place." I grab his hand and pull him out of bed onto his feet. "Then we'll get some dinner, and come back here."

"I really don't want to." He says, glancing back down at the bed.

"Please." I kiss his cheek. "It'll be fun."