❝ PICKET FENCE! ❞ → GRAY ✓

→ i.xi

Act One, Scene Eleven

→ ❝ i wouldn't leave you! ❞

             The next day, thanks to her sudden sensitivity to light and churning stomach, Carol didn't think she would be able to move from her position snuggled under the blankets in bed. She was quite happy nestled into Michael's body, feeling rather sorry for herself.

             "Every time I move, I feel like my head is being stabbed," she groaned as Michael climbed back into bed after getting up and going to the toilet. She buried her face in his chest to block out as much light as possible, breathing in the faded scent of his cologne – the same one he had worn for as long as she could remember. She found the steady thump of Michael's heartbeat to be a comforting sensation and snuggled closer into it.

             "That's a hangover for you," Michael smiled pityingly, rubbing her back in small circles. The sensation (although she knew it was only meant to help) made her feel sick, and she shook Michael's hand away with another groan.

             Carol shivered as she forced bile back down her throat, not ready to deal with that sensation yet, "It scares me that last night is just a blur to me. I can't remember anything but I know I was there, I can feel it."

             "I'm not surprised, not with the amount you had to drink."

             "My mother is going to kill me," she winced as Michael moved to get the tea a maid had brought in, longing for his simple touch and sun-blocking abilities again. "I don't want to tell her. I don't want to go back to her."

             Michael lifted the tea up to her mouth for her, allowing her to sip it with ease. Her eyes were squeezed shut and she held Michael's other arm over them for extra protection, "You have to go back to her at some point," he reminded her softly, "You can't just leave her in the lurch."

             Carol sniffed, pulling away from the cup and mumbling under her breath, "Why not? That's what you did."

             The boy decided he didn't like how temperamental hungover Carol was and tried his best not to get into an argument, even if it meant lying, "And if I could go back and tell her, I would. I'd tell you. I wouldn't leave you again."

             That comment was enough for Carol, who removed his hand from her eyes and placed it around her shoulders instead. In nothing but her slip, she was rather cold and preferred Michael's heat over the fluffy blankets that had smothered them for the night.

             "What are we doing today?" she asked, listening to the birds tweeting outside the window. It was a sweet, melodic sound that soon turned sickly when Carol realised she had no control over getting their repetitive singing to cease. That was the joy of a radio, she thought, she could turn off even her most favourite programmes when they began to annoy her.

             "Whatever you want to do," Michael responded, thinking it best to allow the hungover girl to make the decisions. That way, he wouldn't be blamed for making her do anything too out of her abilities. "You decide."

             "I want to go for a walk outside," Carol said after thinking for a moment. "I've only seen the inside of Tommy's house and I want to know what the grounds are like." She huffed in annoyance as Michael rolled out of the bed and began to dress himself, finding a fitted blue suit out of the wardrobe at the other end of the room.

             "But you went outside last night?" he said as he fastened the buttons on his shirt, goose bumps littering his exposed skin. She hadn't noticed it before, but his body was definitely more sculpted and defined than when he lived in the village with her. It was an undeniably good look on him.