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"Just because a scar heals, doesn't mean it's gone,"
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AUGUST 2ND, 1987 | YOUR SNORES MIXED in with the birds chirping, cars honking, and school buses dragging metal. You blinked your eyes open at the sound of your phone ringing, your vision blinded by dirty paper. You sat up, the book falling off your face.
You quickly turned and grabbed your phone. No contact...? You answered. "Hello?"
"Hey Y/N," a British voice answered.
"Micheal?" you smiled.
"Hey, yeah, it's me. C-can you uhm... Drop me o-off at school?" he struggled as if he was embarrassed. You couldn't help but laugh.
"Sure, be there soon," you hung up. You jumped out of bed, throwing a hoodie on and random sneakers. You left your apartment (after grabbing a helmet of course), going down the stairs and down to your bike. You started it up, taking off to the Afton house once more.
✡︎✡︎✡︎
You pulled up to where Micheal was standing. "Catch," you threw him the helmet. He caught it. Getting on the back of your bike.
"Why didn't your dad take you?" you asked.
"He went to the pizzeria before I woke up. Granted, I knew he was going to but I don't like the bus," he sighed.
"That's stupid," you scoffed. "Wait, is that what you were gonna ask me yesterday?"
"Well uhm, yes. But don't get me wrong, I have my license and a bike! But.. my bike got trashed a couple of months back," Micheal admitted.
"What the hell? So you haven't gotten it fixed?" you turned back to him for a split second.
