wasting time » lh ; mc

twenty three

:: 23 ::

       The car came to a gradual stop in the gravel-filled driveway of the Hemmings residence. When he stepped out of it and stretched the stiffness of his limbs away, Luke grinned; he had a plan. Today he'd hang out with Michael—he wouldn't tell him about how he thinks he feels yet. Then, he'd hang out with Penelope after school tomorrow—a good choice since it would be a Monday. Monday's leave Luke sleep deprived and brain-dead, Penelope makes him happy (not that Michael doesn't).

Michael should be in Luke's room, his mother had already been informed that it was alright to let the boy in until he and Andrew got home.

Luke ignored all of the other small bags in the backseat of the car and grabbed only the one that belonged to him. As soon as he had a good grip on them, he sped past his father and into the house. He yelled a quick, "Hi, Mom! Missed you!" to wherever his birth giver may be, still making swift movements towards the stairs—only to calm down once he had tripped up a single step in his hyperactive journey.

He was acting like a child and it had only been two and a half days. But, any other time he went out of town he had no one to come back to. So he's reasonably childish.

From just outside of his door Luke could hear what sounded like "3rd Planet" by Modest Mouse. Michael had dug through his CD collection again, and they were all probably scattered on the floor because the boy is too lazy to clean up after himself.

Michael sat on Luke's bed, phone held over his face has he lay down. Luke guessed he was playing one of the many games they had downloaded one day. He wore sweat clothes and his messy hair was hidden by a beanie he'd stolen from Luke.

Somehow, Michael heard the creak of the door opening over the volume of the music and, without glancing toward it, exclaimed, "Finally, I've been waiting an hour!"

Luke rolled his eyes. "Well I'm sorry, traffic laws exist and my father must obey." Taking a quick glance around, he soon realized his assumption about Michael's laziness was correct—except he kept the CDs in a pile in the corner, assuring he wouldn't add clumsy to his list of character traits and break them. With his bag in his hand, Luke lifted it again to sit in next to the pile to unpack and tidy up later.

"You should get your permit, you could become my own personal servant," Michael cheekily suggested.

"But you have your own car."

"And?"

"You—nothing," Luke shook his head with a chuckle. He moved to sit on the edge of his bed next to Michael, grabbing the stereo remote and turning the music down. "It feels good to be back."

"You had fun, though, right?" Michael asked.

"Of course I did, I just missed my bed," Luke confessed, "which you are hogging right now. Move over." He lifted up Michael's legs and moved under them, leaning against the wall and then letting them fall on top of his own.

"Woah, woah, okay," Michael surrendered. Motioning for the remote, he said, "Now turn up the music, I need a nap."

"It's—" Luke checked the cable box, "almost noon."

"All I heard was 'too early,'" Michael hummed, turning over so he was facing Luke.

And for a while that's how it was. Luke closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall, letting Modest Mouse play quietly (but loud enough for Michael, because Michael likes music while he sleeps).

       After half an hour, Luke had managed to slip his legs out from underneath Michael's and lay flat on the bed. He was drumming his fingers against his stomach and glancing around, a few family photos scattered around both his dresser and the walls—which got him thinking. And he's glad, too, because it was getting to the point where the lack of human interaction was making Luke's hyperactive brain go insane and there was no longer entertainment in staring at cracks on the ceiling.

Luke whispered, "Hey, Mikey?" even though he knew the boy was asleep. But, hey, it was worth a shot.

"Yeah?" a groggy Michael mumbled back.

"Can you tell me about your mom?" And suddenly, Michael was awake. His eyes opened and he looked at Luke.

"She would've loved you—I've told you that before," he smiled lightly. "Physically I look nothing like her; I can go searching through old photos and try to find something for you."

"I bet she was beautiful."

"The most beautiful person I've ever met," Michael confirmed. "You're a close second."

"Shut up," Luke laughed, moving his arm so it covered his eyes and his red cheeks weren't on display.

"We were complete opposites but that was always okay." Michael racked his brain for facts about his mother that he could share. He could write a whole book about everything he knew about her, every part of her that he wished was visible in himself, but he wouldn't be able to say any of it to Luke without the fear of being laughed at for including such unnecessary information.

Everything about Karen Clifford was important and necessary; always and forever.

Except for one thing. One thing Michael isn't sure he's ready to admit. The one thing he's ever held with him about his mother that filled him with disappointment. But he couldn't let it hurt him in the dark anymore.

"My mother was an addict."

Luke shook his head in realization before gaping, "That's what you meant when you said—"

"That she did bad things to herself?" Michael said, dryly. "Yes. It's the reason my parents split, for the most part." Another was lies; those started when his mother lost her job, telling her husband and Michael that she had quit to become a stay-at-home mom. He's spent all this time telling himself that it wasn't that bad.

Michael doesn't want to believe she was a bad person. She was his best friend.

"You don't have to tell me anything else if you don't want to,"

"No, I want to. I need to." He took a deep breath, closing his eyes to make it feel as if he wasn't doing this. Pretending he wasn't actually about to unlock himself for Luke to open and empty the contents of everything he's made of and everything he's ever kept hidden with a small key he liked to call denial.

Despite his own doubt working against him, Michael did it, and Luke listened without protest or discouragement. Michael told him about how his mom lived with his grandparents after the divorce and up until she died. How she used to no-show to a lot of his school events but he was always okay with it because Pop-Pop told him she got stuck in traffic.

How she was the most pure person in the world to him but had such a tainted mind that she couldn't deal with it on her own and sought out assistance in small baggies hidden under her bed in a box he'd tried countless times to get into because he thought it contained old photos and—fuck, everyone knows how much of a sucker Michael is for holding onto old memories, right?

He even listened when Michael defended her when he knows he shouldn't be.

But in the end, she's still his mother. And if nothing else, she left him with a reminder to never lie to those he wants to keep close.

• • •

please tell me people still read this bc it got dark and i need people to think im evil

but i'm back hello!!! thank you for 200 followers n 40k reads!!!

i missed you guys i love u to neptune and back 2 the cows (ps.,,. .if you never want 2 go this long without my wonderful humor again, add me on sc @ trashcait i hit u with those killer puns daily)

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