XVI ; just a little late.

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I ran.

I ignored the calls of surprise and anger as I raced down the bleachers and out the double doors, nothing mattered to me except knowing this was a lie, that's all that I cared about. There's no way my Michael is dead, it's impossible.

My mind was scattered in a thousand places and my heart was racing at a mile per minute, everything was a blur in the moment. Even through my haze I could tell that I'd turned onto the familiar street that I used to run to late at night, it feels like an eternity since I've been here.

And to my disappointment there wasn't a house at the end of the street, only a pile of charred ashes as evidence that he was really gone.

But he couldn't be.

There's absolutely no was he's dead, especially before I could tell him I love him -- not loved, because I still love him, and I always will. I can't even remember when I started liking him, maybe it was the first time I heard his giggle or maybe how his eyes sparkled every time I smiled. All I know is I'm simply in too deep with this boy.

But I've been even deeper in denial, and a little late to see that I was truly in love with him.

I continued to stare at the pile of charred wood as if my gaze could build it back up, as if Michael could walk by and laugh telling me how he never liked that house, anything other than watched the occasional puffs of ash flutter in the wind.

But this wasn't some cheesy love story where we would be reunited and have a happily ever after.

So I did the one thing I never did publicly, I cried -- loud sobs that could be heard for miles I just wanted to let it all out, so I did.

Now I didn't just cry over a piece of burnt wood, I cried for everything.

I cried for Michael.

I cried for his past.

I cried because I wasn't there for him.

I cried because I didn't see through his facade.

I cried because I was an asshole to him when he was so fragile.

I cried because because he was gone.

I cried because I loved him.

I cried because I still love him.

I just cried.

For however long it took for me to run out of tears, and when it happened all I did was sat there. I didn't really notice it earlier but the sky had darkened along with my mood, now it was almost pitch black outside and I was only shaking heavily.

But I know michael wouldn't want that, I'm sure he'd want me to feel guilt. He would want me to feel regret for leaving him to fend for himself when we were younger when all signs showed nothing was going right for him. He wouldn't want me to cry over it simply because I didn't even know, but he would probably find pleasure in my pain. Because it's exactly how he felt everyday.

I needed to stop thinking so much, because in that moment I realized just how dark my thoughts were growing, so I got up and ran once again. My body was yelling at me not to but my mind was telling me to run until my legs gave out, I just needed to make it home.

So that's all I tried to do.

I made it home huffing for a single extended breath, I made it inside the door and collapsed against the wall letting the feeling of hatred rain upon me as I waited for the tears to come -- but there was nothing left in me.

"Luke, come here dear." My mom whispered from somewhere far in the house.

I stood on shaky legs only to see black spots making it feel hard to stand, holding onto the wall for support as I allowed my vision to return to normal. Then I followed the sound of my moms soothing hums where she sat in her bedroom with something in her hands.

"The school said you should have this," she smiled softly but i could tell she was in excruciating pain -- she loved Michael like another son and the idea of losing a child is heartbreaking. "I'm sorry dear."

And that's when she finally broke -- the strongest of all, Liz Hemmings finally found her breaking point and she couldn't hold her invincible facade -- she sobbed nuzzling her face into my chest as I rubbed her back soothingly whispering anything I could to calm her to an extent.

I sang to her quietly pushing her into sleep until her sobs ceased, I laid her into bed pulling the blanks up to her chest and wiping away any traces of tears before kissing her forehead. "Goodnight mom." I whispered before grabbing the charred notebook and walking to my room with my head bowed as a single tear made it's way down my cheek.

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