Michael came over the next day around seven. He looked tired and worn, but his smile was genuine as he pulled me in for the best hug ever. Or maybe it just felt so great because I'd missed it so much. And it could have been one of the best things to happen so far that week.
Because I started drawing again.
I'm not sure how it happened, but once Michael came over, I knew what I was doing. We hung out in my room while I cranked out character designs and Michael made comics, which he'd gotten surprisingly good at. We just spent time together, singing along to whatever song came up on shuffle on our playlist. It was an incredible relief. Just being with him, even though we hardly talked. We didn't need to. Just each other's prescence was enough.
And since it was his prescence that I'd been missing, I wasn't ready to let him go by the end of the day.
"Michael?" I asked, tugging at the hem of one of his oversized sweaters as he looked for his shoes in the living room.
"Yes, Lanie?" His voice was a little muffled as he looked under my couch, sticking the length of his arm underneath in search of a shoe. "Where the hell are they?"
"Can you stay the night?"
Michael's arm stopped it's scan underneath the couch as he sat back, balancing on his heels and looking up at me. "Do you want me to?"
I only nodded and then glanced at the clock. It wasn't quite midnight yet, but I was already tired. I let out a huge yawn, feeling my back crack on the inhale. I rubbed sleepily at my eyes as Michael stood, abandoning his search for his shoes and walked over to me. He loosely grabbed my hand, leading me down the hallway to my room and flicking off the lights.
I crawled onto the bed, pulling the sheets back for us while Michael, on the other hand, pulled off his shirt. I tried not to stare. I'd seen him shirtless before, like when we swam and a couple times when I came over to his place early in the morning, but he'd always slept with a shirt on when one of us spent the night. But his sleepy expression told me he probably wasn't even aware of that fact and it was just a habit.
But damn, was it a really distracting habit.
Fortunately, Michael didn't notice-or acknowledge-my stares as he climbed under the covers next to me, our bodies immediately finding each other and melding inseperably. I quickly got used to the feel of his bare skin instead of the fabric of a usual teacher. I found that without the material, his heat spread through me at higher temperatures and faster speeds, quickly locking me in a warm melancholy.
Michael played with my hair, twirling it around his fingers as he hummed a tune I didn't recognize. "What song is that?"
"What? Oh, it's nothing. Just something I heard. You wouldn't know it." Michael murmured drowsily, his lips brushing against my temple, sending fiery lances of heat through my body.
"Oh," I said, surpressing a shiver as Michael shifted us so his bottom arm slid under the pillow we shared and giving me more cusion and more access to his bare torso. "Michael?"
"Hmm?"
"You're okay, right."
He was silent for a moment and my heart stopped for several painful seconds, awaiting his response. "I'm okay."
Why do you lie to me?
I know I didn't tell Michael about what was wrong with me, but he at least knew for certain I had a problem and I was pretty sure he figured it out. After all, he was the first one I came to after I left Dylan. But here, I had no clue what was wrong. It honestly felt like it came out of nowhere. I mean, I figured he was tired of taking care of me, but now, I wasn't sure what was wrong. But I had a terrible feeling that I had something to do with it.
