It was late, he knew. He could see the moon through the spaces between his blinds, and it was directly in the middle of the dark, star-speckled sky, signaling the strike of midnight. Fatigue weighed down on his body, making his shoulders sag and his eyelids droop. He should be asleep, tucked under the sheets with his face buried in Ellie's red hair.
But he couldn't sleep tonight. As tired as he was, he was restless and unable to get comfortable. Even with Ellie there, his best friend.
She didn't normally sleep in his bed. Only sometimes, when he wanted some company or she needed some company. Ellie, she didn't like to be alone at certain times, as Marco had figured out in the years he'd known her. As strong as she seemed on the outside, she had a soft and unbelievably weak side underneath. Especially when her mother went out on evening alcohol escapades. He thought about it a lot, Ellie's nearly two-sided persona.
So that's what he'd been doing for the past three hours, ever since Ellie had fallen asleep. He'd been pondering her weak side, the whole time, his gaze locked on her peacefully sleeping face.
He swore that, if circumstances weren't what they were, he would be in mad love with Ellie. She was funny, beautiful, and an all-around great person. He had to admit that in their younger years, she hadn't been the most appealing girl, especially in her looks. But they were almost adults now, and she'd learned to let her hair down and lay off the make-up.
Sitting here now, still gazing at Ellie's face, he tried to remember the day he met her. It had been so long ago… but as hard as he struggled, he couldn't remember the day, or even the time of year he'd first met Ellie Nash. It frustrated him, and he furrowed his eyebrows. This was going to make going to sleep even harder for him to do.
With a heavy and tired sigh, Marco threw himself backwards onto his pillow, staring blankly at the ceiling. The fan that whirled around above him sent walls of air into his face, ruffling his curly hair. He breathed in the cool air and turned onto his side so that he was face-to-face with the sleeping Ellie.
She had the sheets pulled up to her chin, curled into a ball under the quilt of his bed. She always slept like that, curled up. He knew because he always had his arms around her when she slept. He loved that she felt so secure around him, so secure that she let him sleep so close to her.
He knew it was most likely because he was gay, and that she knew he couldn't do anything to her. Well, he could, but he never would. He hoped there was some part of Ellie that trusted him because he was Marco, not that he was gay.
Biting on his tongue, Marco quietly settled himself under the sheets and snuggled closer to Ellie. He was beginning to feel a bit more tired, which he prayed would eventually turn into sleep.
As he lay there, he gently twirled a piece of Ellie's red hair around his finger, careful not to tug on it. He remembered when she'd messed with the color of it a lot, how much he'd hated it. Wrinkling his nose at the memory, Marco yawned and nuzzled himself deeper into the blankets.
He was still wondering about the day he met Ellie as he drifted to sleep, the piece of red hair still in his fingers. His other hand had made its way around her waist, resting there comfortably. As Marco's brown eyes finally fell closed completely, Ellie opened one eye quickly, then the other.
She'd been awake for nearly ten minutes, long enough to notice her friend's fidgety movements. Blinking a few times, Ellie smiled into the darkness and closed her eyes again, breathing in the warm scent of her best friend.