vagabond ; mc

prologue ;

"Why do you do it?" She asked. The sky was dark in front of them, the horizon starting to show the faintest sign of sunlight. Sleep still plagued her eyes, but when Michael had shaken her awake and told her to follow him, she couldn't refuse.

"Do what?" Michael asked, turning his head to look at her. Dahlia couldn't wait to see his face illuminated with the early sun, his eyes turning translucent from the light. The corners of his mouth upturned slightly, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

His hair was disheveled, the dark strands sticking out at odd angles. His shirt was wrinkled, a small tear at the collar. She wasn't sure if he had changed at all or if he had just pulled on a pair of pants before he came to get her.

"This," she said, gesturing to the view in front of them. "Travelling from place to place. Watching the sun rise from rooftops," Dahlia continued. "Don't you want to settle down, keep friends by your side?"

Michael took a deep breath, swinging his feet back and forth as he turned to look at the sky again. The sun was eating away at the dark color, yellows and oranges and reds starting to bleed up and out. He leaned back on his hands, closing his eyes for a moment.

"I want to feel alive," he finally said, his eyes opening. Like she had waited for, his green eyes were the color of sea glass. "I felt suffocated in my hometown, like if I didn't get out then, I never would."

"So you're chasing happiness?" Dahlia asked. The sun was rising higher in the sky, the city coming to life with it.

"They have a term for it," Michael said, indirectly answering her question. He sat up again, letting his hands go limp in his lap. She raised her eyebrows, urging him to continue. "Vagabonds."