[T]here's no way of knowing that your last good day is your Last Good Day. At the time, it is just another good day.
-John Green, The Fault in our Stars
May 19th, 13:08.
Curumo had been reading, but currently he was lying on the floor half-asleep. Until he felt the warm hand settle in the small of his back, he wasn't aware of Mairon's presence.
"Hello, love." He meant to sound friendly, but it came out a quiet murmur, muffled by the floor.
He could almost hear the smile. "Hello."
They didn't speak, just sat there in the sunlight. 'I love you' ran over and over through Curumo's mind, but he didn't say it aloud. The next day - the next week - the next month - the next year - he would wish that he had; maybe then Mairon wouldn't be so distant, wouldn't avoid him, wouldn't have left.
(Maybe if he had just said 'I love you,' Mairon wouldn't have gone to Melkor. Maybe. He'd never know, would he?)
Their Last Good Day stretched on, Mairon and Curumo unaware of it.