a/n: whoa holy crap this has more stuff than i thought it would. uh, thanks, ig? follow, comment, and vote plz.
-normal girl ❤️💜💙🏳️🌈
Y/n's POV
I plopped down at the lunch table. I finished Jane Eyre last night (even though I couldn't remember much of it), so I was rereading one of my childhood favorites, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone.
Michael sat down at the table, alone, which was weird. Usually him and Jeremy were attached at the hip.
"Where's Jeremy?" I asked.
"I'm...not sure," said Michael. "He's been acting weird all day. I saw him a few times, but he just totally acted like I didn't exist. It was so unlike him." He stopped, thinking, before ducking his head down.
As someone who felt like crap constantly, I could tell that he was hurt. Mega hurt. Like when Beetlejuice shut down on Broadway hurt. "I'm sure he just is busy today." Michael nodded his head, not buying my half-ass excuse.
I felt a familiar pain in my stomach and turned to Michael. "Hey, do you have some Ibuprofen?"
"Hangover?"
"Cramps." Michael glared at me, trying to figure out if I was lying. He didn't like it when I drank, but I actually didn't drink much yesterday. That book is really good, and I wanted to remember it and enjoy it to it's full capacity. "Michael, if you're not gonna give me Ibuprofen, I'll just drink away the pain."
Michael sighed, pulling my favorite pills out of his pocket. "You know I always have Ibuprofen for you."
"I know," I said, swallowing the pill with my chocolate milk.
We sat there silently for a few minutes, me returning to my book. Michael spoke up. "Aren't you gonna...talk?"
It never occurred to me that Michael might want to have a conversation. He always talked to Jeremy. He never needed me. But now I suppose he did.
"Oh," I said, closing my book. "I suppose I could manage that."
Michael rolled his eyes, a smirk growing on his face. Then it dropped.
I cocked my head, concerned. "Are you okay, Michael?"
"I wish I was more like you."
"You want book recommendations?"
"No, no, I mean..." He sighed, trying to communicate with his hands but failing. Finally, he dropped his hands. "You don't care what anyone thinks. You don't have any close friends that you obsess over. You're not boy crazy like Brooke or Chloe. You don't do things to impress people. You do things because you want to do them."
I thought about this statement for a second before replying. "Michael, that is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."
Michael frowned, offended, a little sad even.
"Don't get me wrong, man. I do care what people think. I just don't show it. I guess I kinda put up a wall after everything with my parents, ya know?"
"How is everything?" he asked. I rolled my eyes. Michael was always making sure I was coping well.
"Everything's fine. My foster family takes good care of me."
"Besides letting you get drunk off your ass and come to school every day hung over."
"Whatever, man, you get stoned all the time."
"Only important times," he said with a wink, earning a snort from me.
