You're The Reason//Michael Clifford

Five.

I've never told Michael about what happened in that kitchen three years ago. I never told anybody. My dad had an affair that lead my mom to leave me abandoned in the street. She didn't say goodbye to me, she didn't give me an explanation, she simply left. I often wonder if she ever looked back at me standing in the street. Why was she able to up and leave her own child? Why didn't she wait for me? Was she even planning on taking me with her? I'm glad she didn't because then I wouldn't have the friendship I have with Michael now. It's still the idea that my own mother left me behind. Left me in the hands of my cheating father and his home-wrecking mistress.

"Chevy, are you okay?" Michael waved his hand in front of my face. I shook my head from those horrid thoughts and gave Michael a small smile, "Yeah, I'm fine. What were you saying?"

Michael completely ignored my question, "What were you thinking about?"

I opened my mouth to tell him but I couldn't get the words out, "It's not that big of a deal, Michael. Honestly."

"I know when you're lying and I'm not leaving your bedroom until you tell me," he sat back in my rocking chair, folding one of legs over the other and put his hands behind his head, rocking back and forth while whistling. I sighed, "Look, I want to tell you. But it's not even worth knowing."

"Why not?"

"I'd have to kill you afterwards," I joked but Michael didn't laugh. He was serious. I cleared my throat and wiped my sweaty hands on my jeans, "It's something I don't really like to think about, let alone talk about."

"Not even to your best friend in the entire world?" Michael pouted, giving me the face.

I groaned, hiding my face in my hands, I didn't want to see it, "Not the puppy face."

I felt Michael sit on his knees and move his body between my legs, moving my hands from my face, "I am a dog after all." He bashed his eyelashes at me with a cute smile.

I couldn't help but let out a little laugh and look down at Michael who was still smiling like a dork. I rolled my eyes, giving in to him, like I always do, "Fine, I'll tell you."

I told him about what happened that night three years ago. My first encounter with my step-mom and how she admitted that she was the cause of my mom leaving and how she slapped me in the face.

"You told me you were crying because you watched King Kong," Michael yelled.

"You're not helping the situation, like at all," I said, clearly irritated with him.

He cleared his throat, "Right, sorry. Why did you keep this from me for so long?"

I avoided eye contact and barely above a whisper, but loud enough for Michael to hear, "I didn't want you to feel sorry for me and like I said, it's not a big deal now."

Michael sat down on my bed and pulled me into his lap, brushing his fingers through my hair and leaving little kisses on my temple, "I'm sorry," he was rocking back and forth, comforting me in the best way that he knew how.

"Michael," he made eye contact with me, "kiss me again." I begged. All of a sudden, I had this overwhelming need of his lips on mine.

He licked his lips before biting down on his bottom, "Are you sure?" I nodded my head, putting a hand on the back of his neck and pulling his head down closer to mine. The second our lips touched, my body relaxed, and I got up to straddle his lap. Our lips were molded together, moving in sync, our bodies pressed so close together you would think we were glued together. I was savoring the taste on Michael's lips, spearmint toothpaste and bacon that we had ate earlier for breakfast.