tea stained newpapers. mileven au.

twenty seven.

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN:
SKYLINE OF FLOATING WORDS.
MIKE'S POV.

to be completely honest, the last time mike put on a suit and tie had to be when he took el to that writers event a few months back.

in retrospect, that simple memory felt like it had been years ago, his mind reminiscing the first time he had gotten the chance to see the pretty brunette strip away her shell of protection to show her true colors, bright and vibrant.

he remembered feeling so cautious about her that night, so careful to make sure she was having fun in the safety of his presence. it was like it was instinct from the start, his body drawn to heal and protect her in ways he didn't even realize he had the capability to do.

so walking into the sleek atmosphere that was the museum of modern art felt too similar to the first time he had realized his feelings for the tiny artist, the tie around his neck burning into his soft skin as he avoided the gazes of the people crowding around the ticket booth.

in the most respectful way possible, the days leading up to his sweet's event had been more than odd to say the least. though he could only be thinking that because he felt like he hadn't seen her in a million years.

truthfully, he hadn't seen her only for a couple days, the writer sacrificing his clinginess towards her so she could host her best friend coming in town as well as two other guests. and although he knew el wouldn't want him to put his life on pause just because she had other things to tend to, he couldn't help but to spend the days without her in his lonely writers office, staring mindlessly at blank sheets of paper because apparently his brain doesn't seem to work unless she's around.

but besides the fact that the raven haired boys brain doesn't seem to work unless she was around, there is one thing those molecules encapsulated in his skull can do in her absence.

think about her.

so yes, in other words, he hadn't seen her in a million years.

yet, those million years of waiting were somehow worth it. at least in hopes for his plans for tonight.

it sounds cheesy, probably unbelievably mushy. yet, the truth laid in the fact that instead on working on the biography these past few days, mike spent most of his time planning only a small surprise for her instead. of course, he did owe some credit to this subtle celebration to lucas and hop, but nonetheless he felt like his idea was more than special in its own way.

for her, mostly.

how she felt was all he really cared about.

yet, the sweet thoughts of his evening ideals were pushed away once he entered onto the loft of the third floor, his calculated steps echoing underneath his feet as he stuck his hands into the plush pockets of his suit coat. there were quite a bit of people there, each of them immersed in their own mindful conversations, the muffled chattering blurring in his ears as he made his way over to where his painter girl's canvas was hanging on full display.

and in that moment, walking up to that extravagant painting he had only witnessed once before, he couldn't help to feel like the memory those beautiful torn papers and brush strokes were too personal, his stomach curling in a way that made him feel as though he was being held hostage underneath those blaring white lights.