Xanax, Sorrow, and Love (A Mikey Way Fanfiction)

Barnes & Noble

After leaving the diner, I got into my old junker (some Monte Carlo from the 80's). The radio started playing as soon as I turned on the ignition, I'm pretty sure the song was Enter Sandman by Metallica, but it was kind of muffled by all the giddiness from getting a guy's number prancing around in my brain. I backed out of the tiny parking lot of the similarly tiny diner. I realized I was still holding on to the crumpled slip of paper with Mikey's phone number on it, like it was a grudge or a bag of gold. His handwriting was cute, kind of third-grader-ish and messy. Then again, everything about him was cute.

Traffic was really slow- slow as which to say none- that day on my way home. Then I realized it was two weeks before Christmas and everyone was off school and work and enjoying their days, while I wasted my life at an old diner thinking about things Greek philosophers wouldn't understand. I sighed, attempting to divert my focus to the nearly deserted interstate in front of me. Face it, you're never gonna make it. Before I knew it, I was in the parking lot of my dingy apartment building, a renovated mansion right outside of downtown. Parking and turning off my car, I sighed before getting out. After locking the car, I walked down the sidewalk, into the building's yard, through the lobby, and up to the second (and top) floor where my apartment was located.

Once inside, I took a shower and sat on the couch to watch a holiday Cops marathon. I was asleep halfway through the 11th consecutive episode, and I was startled awake by my landline ringing. Almost jumping off my sagging couch and throwing my blanket nearly halfway across the room, I stumbled to the phone, which was sitting on my kitchen counter. After stubbing my toe at least five times and stabbing myself in the gut on the edge of the counter, I made it. I looked at the clock on my stove. It was around 10:00 at night. Who the fuck could be calling at ten at night? I thought. Despite suspicion about who could be calling due to the time, I answered the still-ringing phone.

"Hello?" I said.

"Hey," the voice said. "It's Mikey."

"Hey!" I said, suspicion gone. "What's up?"

"Just wondering if you want to hang out at the Barnes and Noble tomorrow at 12:00? Since you said you liked it and everything, and I'm off work, so..."

"Yeah! Sounds great!" I said. "See you then, I guess."

"Bye, Ember! Love yo-" Mikey coughed.

"What?"

"Oh, um... Sleep well!"

"Okay, bye. You too." I hung up. What was that all about? I thought. Eh, probably just instinct. I do that too, like the one time ordering pizza...

I sat back on my couch, when my mind started to talk to me again. You realize that you're living in a shit apartment in a shit town, with no money for food or rent, and you're probably going to starve by May when you're rent's due that you aren't gonna be able to pay... "Enough! Stop!" I violently whispered, gripping my head and clenching my eyes closed. Your parents' death really fucked you up, didn't it? "Just stop!" I smashed my head into my pillow, trying to drown the voices. I ended up just simply passing out on my cold, threadbare couch.

*******

I woke up and the sun was dancing through my cheap, deteriorating curtains and into my eyes. The alarm clock on the stove said 11:30. "Shit," I mumbled. I hastily climbed up from the ridiculously sagging couch, rushed to my room and grabbed a random combination of shirt and pants. A KoRn shirt and skinny jeans, he ought to like that. I thought. I haphazardly applied some eyeliner, brushed my teeth, and combed my hair. It wasn't a date, but I didn't want to be a slob. I'm a slob for nobody, wether it be lover or friend.

I called Mikey. "Hey," I said. "Are we still gonna hang out, or...?"

"Yeah," he said. "I'm actually waiting for you now, in the parking lot at the south end."