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"I was June and you were my Johnny Cash."












Mike sat at the dinner table just playing with his food. He didn't want to eat. He felt like he didn't need to eat.

"Mike, why are you playing with your food?" Karen asked.

"I'm not hungry." Mike answered.

Karen sighed and looked to Ted who just shrugged.

"Why isn't Nancy down here?" Mike asked.

"She's upstairs with Jonathan. He's having a really hard time with Will." Karen answered.

Mike rolled his eyes. So Jonathan gets special treatment because Will died, but he doesn't.

"So is everyone else." Mike muttered.

"That's his little brother, Michael. How do you think Nancy would feel if you died in a mall fire?" Karen asked.

"Happy." Mike answered, seriously.

He genuinely felt that way. He didn't want Nancy to be upset anyway, the only person he would want to mourn him is Will. That's the only person he wanted and needed. The only one.

"Michael, do not say that! That is not true!" Karen exclaimed.

Mike rolled his eyes at her again.

"Ted, are you going to step in or just sit there?" Karen asked her husband with a cocked eyebrow.

Ted looked up from his plate

"Enough, Michael." He said.

He then looked back down at his plate.

"Oh, thanks, Ted. That helped so much. Why don't you back me up instead of looking down at your plate like nothing is going on!" Karen shouted.

Mike put his napkin on his plate and pushed his chair in.

"What did I do?" Ted asked.

"Ugh!" Karen groaned.

While his parents were bickering, Mike snuck upstairs.

He walked past Nancy's room and saw that the door was open halfway.

Jonathan had his head in Nancy's neck and was shaking. He was sobbing.

"It's going to be okay, Jonathan, I promise. You're going to get through it. Right now, you need to be there for your mother, okay?"

Mike rolled his eyes. Jonathan wasn't as close to Will as he was, why was he so sad? It's not fair. Mike didn't get that affection and comfort that everyone else did and he was the closest to Will.

He stomped to his room and slammed the door shut.

He sat down on his bed and looked around at the messy room. Clothes were all over the place, his sheets were in a corner in his room, food wrappers littered the floor, his closet door was open and stuff was on the floor of the closet, and the pictures on his bedside table were all knocked over or had fallen onto the floor along with most of the stuff.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘖𝘯𝘦 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘎𝘰𝘵 𝘈𝘸𝘢𝘺 • Byler Where stories live. Discover now