ENG - My best friend's sister ᵐᶦᵏᵉʸ ˣ ᵒᶜ

85

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At some point I stop and a knot forms in my stomach as I let go of his hand and carefully turn in his direction to look at him. He looks straight at me too, not really seeming to know what to say himself.
An uncomfortable silence settles between us as I struggle with myself internally and I keep hitting my head. I should have at least put sentences together that I might be able to say instead of standing here now, petrified and silent.
"You've... cut and dyed your hair," he finally breaks the silence after what seems like an eternity. "Suits you," he adds. I draw in a sharp breath and forget to breathe for a moment. The heat literally rises to my head and I blush. So I quickly turn away from him so that he can't see and murmur a quiet, "Thank you," afterwards.
And then it's quiet again.

After taking a deep breath and trying to calm my racing heart, the exact opposite happens - I have to cry. Tears run down my cheeks and I just can't stop them. This situation is overwhelming me, even though we're just standing here saying nothing! I bite my lips so hard that I can taste the blood. I hate this situation, this moment, these feelings - I just hate everything.
"Come back to me," he breaks the silence again. Shocked by his words, I turn to him and look at him as if I've misheard him.
"Are you going to tell me?" I ask him after a moment's hesitation. I would have loved to say yes, I wanted to take him in my arms again.
"I will," he begins, looking around the area until his gaze finally lingers on me. "What's stopping you?" I whisper, my voice barely more than a breath. A shadow settles over his face, and he's silent for a moment, as if he's weighing up how much truth I can bear.
"Because I'm afraid," he finally confesses, and his gaze, full of fear, hits me. "Afraid that you'll see me differently, that you'll leave me for good." His vulnerability hurts me.
"Will you come back to me if I tell you?" he asks me, not averting his gaze. "Although I think you'll leave me even more," he adds and then averts his eyes.
I claw my hands into my top as if I need to hold something in and continue to stare at him. I wanted to know the truth, right from the start, but suddenly I'm overcome with a fear that tells me it might be better not to know.
But once again, my body reacts faster than my mind, and my mouth utters what my thoughts weren't even thinking: "Did you kill someone?"

As I say the words, I bang my head against the wall in shock. I'm shocked myself at the words I've just spoken. Mikey, who is still staring to the side, tenses up, clenches his fists and trembles with tension.
A quiet: "Yes," he utters softly. The answer is barely audible, almost choked. "I did," he finishes his sentence coolly. Then he raises his eyes, penetrating me with such intensity that I hold my breath for a moment. Although I have stopped crying, I suddenly feel the urge to do it again.
Every fiber of my body is telling me to run and get away, that he is dangerous. My head suddenly imagines countless situations where he would have had the chance to kill me. An icy chill runs through my blood, my heart almost seems to leap from within me, as if it wants to run away itself.

Yet I stand there, petrified, looking at him - I don't really want to think that.
"Tell me," I demand in a trembling voice, but at the same time I'm afraid of the answer.
"Come with me," he says, grabbing my hand, and I flinch, this time being pulled along by him. It's painful to hold his hand, my whole body screams not to touch him, just to run away. But I'm paralyzed, I want to know the truth, I can't imagine that the person I've fallen in love with could be so cruel. My head is in chaos and my mind is fighting against my heart.

He leads me back to the club, but instead of going inside, he heads for the parking lot and stops in front of his motorcycle. He only lets go of my hand when he sits down on his bike and indicates that I should sit behind him.
I hesitate, remain rooted to the spot and look at him uncertainly. A faint smile slides across his face, seeming to notice my uncertainty. "I won't hurt you. I promise," he assures me. I want to believe him - to trust him and at the same time I'm scared. Nevertheless, I sit down behind him. As soon as I hold on tight, he starts the bike and drives off.

I don't know how long we've been driving, let alone where we are. At some point he stops and pulls over to the side of the road. When the bike stops and it doesn't look like he's going to continue, I get off and he does the same. He leans against the railing at the side of the road and stares into the darkness. We are on a country road with slopes on the sides. I stop a little awkwardly in front of the bike and look at Mikey's back.
"I had an older brother," he begins at one point. A sigh escapes him as he turns to me, still leaning against the railing and looking at me. "He was my role model in every conceivable way, but he was also a huge idiot," he finishes his sentence. He puts his head back and stares at the sky, seemingly lost in thought. "You had?" I ask cautiously, although his sentence already says it all.
"He's dead," he says surprisingly dryly, but still doesn't look at me. "One day, I rode with my brother on his motorcycle. My younger self thought it would be quite funny to grab my brother's steering wheel and pull it to the left. This caused my brother to lose control and we crashed into a car in the opposite lane. I survived, he didn't," he says, now looking directly at me. "I killed him," he whispers. "Right here, where we're standing," he adds.

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