12 Months//michael clifford short story

july

    It started off innocently enough. 

Michael was just the thrill I needed. You never knew what to expect from him. One night, he would stay up the whole time, singing and drinking coffee. Another, all he does is sleep. During the day, we were tourists, out on the streets.We walked through Central park together, went window shopping together, and I didn't even think once about my family or anyone I had left behind. 

What started out as a small stay extended into a month, and my money was going fast. 

Being with Michael made me not care at all. 

One night, we were sitting on his apartment balcony. Michael was leaning on my shoulder as we sat on the floor, cigarette in one hand and a cup of black coffee in the other. Despite it being July, it was  chilly so far up, and I shivered to myself. Michael didn't notice, and kept talking. 

"I just never really got along with them." He shrugs, taking a drag of his cigarette and I realize he's talking about his parents. "Parents suck."

I nod, remembering my mom. 

"Like, all they try to do is control you. They don't have your wellbeing in mind. They just want you to be perfect. Or look perfect. They want you to fit the perfect mold for whatever their idea is of a perfect family and won't care about anything else. As long as you're not making a scene."

I realized this was probably what happened with his family. He was making sense.

"I hate them. I honestly hate them." Michael says as he takes a sip of his coffee. "And this coffee sucks." 

Now he's looking at me and I can't look away. His eyes are glued to mine, and he smirks. He smells of smoke and coffee and sweat. 

"I want to kiss you." He suddenly says, still keeping eye contact with me. I suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to look away, and look at the city below.  "But I can't."  

I don't know why I felt disappointed, but at the same time relieved. I broke eye contact to look at the busy scene below. I cradled my now cold coffee cup in my hand. 

Michael says something quietly, but is cut off by loud sirens in the distance. 

I stayed silent. What could I say? I wondered what was wrong and why someone would need an ambulance. I felt homesick right then. 

"I miss Ohio." I say softly. 

Michael sets down his empty coffee cup, and I feel his hand on the back of my neck. Now he's running his hand through my hair, and I feel his warm breath on the back of my neck.

"I'm sorry." He whispers in my ear. "But you have me." 

-

this is off 2 a rough start sigh

i'm so excited for this tho u have no idea