A boy who has felt years of pain meets a girl who shows him unconditional love.
Written over the course of five nights (and a secret sixth). I'm a sucker for gorgeous romance.
**cover art from tryhardninja on twitter!
NOTE: This is part one of three! Night Five was originally all one chapter, but since it ended up being close to 15k words, I split it into three so it wouldn't be weirdly long compared to the others.
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Sparks
1991
A lot happened during the last three years.
Michael threw up Ennard, leading to a stress in his jaw. Much of the skin on his face was damaged, but you did what you could to keep him looking as normal as possible. Neosporin and lotion were his best friends.
Other than the holes in his skin, which you had long since done your best to sew up or bandage over, he could plausibly pass as a functioning member of society. He bathed regularly and wore a strong (but nice) cologne, and you helped him pick out a wig to cover up his choppy hair. Often, in public, sunglasses or a hat were a good way to cover his bright eyes.
Your relationship never really changed. Where a lot of people might have thrown in the towel and called it off, you stood there right beside him. There were times when Michael's body would do something gross or weird, but it was almost fascinating to you. Plus, it was still Michael, and it didn't feel too much different than what might happen once you guys grew old and started on the path to dying naturally.
So you would still dance with him in the kitchen (which he always grumbled about, but he secretly loved, almost moreso than you) and kissed him on the way to his newest night shift. You let him draw you while he listened to you talk about your day or your feelings or anything in between. Meanwhile, he followed the Freddy's franchise, hunting his father and making sure nobody else could get hurt by him.
A couple times, your neighbors asked why Michael stopped showing up to community events, or why he looked the way he did. Your next door neighbor, Mr. Seton, was the most concerned, often going out of his way to avoid Michael altogether.
"He's not contagious," you informed Mr. Seton once at a barbecue.
"My children are afraid of him," Mr. Seton responded.
"There's nothing I can do about that," you reported. "Please try to teach your kids not to be afraid of people that look different from them."
To most people, however, you'd shrug and use the tried and true excuse of 'a gas leak.' Nobody knew enough about the symptoms following a gas leak to dispute it, and to those who did, you'd quickly follow up with 'he got cancer.'
It seemed reasonable enough, and nobody wanted to be the person to tell you that 'no, he doesn't have cancer.' It didn't matter that nobody had ever seen a cancer patient look like him. The lie passed.
