The Memoirs of Elikai: The Children of the Solstice

Chapter XIII: The Song

"Danny!" Michael said with enthusiasm as he jumped on my bed, and my body groaned in the early hour. I pitifully opened my eyes, which immediately fell upon the the green light of my alarm clock, to show me it was 4:45 am on a Saturday.

I rolled over and covered my head with the plush comforter in my feeble attempt to shut Michael out, but I knew it was pointless. As if to emphasize my point, he grabbed the covers and pulled them off the bed, letting the cold air swirl around me. The fire inside me groaned in annoyance. I curled up on my bed, wearing nothing more than gray sweatpants, as the cold October air drifted in though the open window that I had not left open. I turned to my side, doing my best to ignore him and to fall back asleep, but the raw excitement radiating off him seemed to be seeping into my bones.

"What?" I groaned. I finally turned around to face him after a few more moments of pretending he did not exist. To no great surprise, he stood at the foot of my bed wearing tight running shorts, and nothing else. He had a wicked smile on his face, and I groaned again.

"Come on!" He said with a level of energy that should have been illegal at that hour. I had an urge to throw my pillow at his eager face. He grabbed my leg and began shaking it until I finally sat up and glared at him. He just stood there with a big smile on his face. It was the same fake smile he had been wearing for a week now, a smile that hadn't let up since Claire's funeral.

Since the farewell ceremony, Michael had not left my side for a moment, not even to sleep. I usually found him sleeping in the chair by the window, but sometimes I would wake up to him next to me. I could not mistake his sadness and his sorrow when I looked into his ever-changing eyes, but when he was next to me, he seemed to be at ease. I let him sleep next to me because he needed to be close to someone. I didn't mind it, and it didn't feel uncomfortable. He was my friend, and it was comforting to have someone next to me in the dark. Except for last night, when he briefly returned to his rundown apartment to do chores and laundry. My Aunt Shannon had offered to take care of it for him, but he refused, saying she had already done enough for him.

"Come running with me!" He cheered, and he sat down on my bed next to me as I scowled at him in disgust.

"Michael... it's Saturday," I said with absolute revulsion in my voice. I despised running, and it always made me feel like I was going to throw up. I had always loved cycling, though. I loved the feeling of speeding down the street on a bike, like I could almost fly.

He sat crossed-legged on my bed, his beauty and near-nakedness making me a bit uncomfortable. I looked at him and, not for the first time, I had drawn the conclusion that Michael's beauty was unworldly. He looked into my eyes and smiled.

"Yes, it is Saturday! And it's a beautiful day to go running!" He said with a big smile. But looking into his eyes, I knew he was holding back what he was truly feeling. He was wounded by Claire's death, even though he would not admit it.

I grumbled again, and I looked out the window. The rain fell in dense sheets as lightning cracked the morning sky in a blinding light. The fire protested violently, and I had a feeling I would face the cold alone.

Michael sat on my bed, and I could feel his emotions next to me. I knew that I would run with him, because it was what he needed. I turned to look at him, and smiled half-heartedly. He looked at the rain, then back at me, and his smile grew.

"I love the rain," he said, not really to me, as he stared out the window. I sighed and put on a t-shirt and socks, noticing that Michael's eyes never left the rain. I could see his heart change as he watched the rain intently, as if it could wash away his pain, the memories of the girl he loved, the memories that now brought white hot pain instead of warmth and happiness. I watched him closely, but his heart did not open to me like it did with other people. I could only feel what was on the surface, as if he were blocking me out. I shook my head and turned to the window.