12 Months//michael clifford short story

october

    October was a whirlwind of excitement. Michael's band was getting ready for some big show they had, and Halloween was right around the corner.

I hadn't talked to my mom in almost five months, and I didn't know when I could come home. Or if I wanted to.

I was worried about how Michael would react if I tried to leave. He always told me he couldn't be without me. I worried for him.

"You know, if I didn't have you I think I would kill myself." He told me slyly one night. He was perched in his window, too lazy to go outside to smoke. "You're my everything."

I was flattered. Michael seemed too good for me. This was a surprise.

I come closer, leaning my head on his shoulder. I was happy. He was good for me and I was good for him.

He suddenly turns, his cigarette accidentally skimming over my wrist as he grabbed my arm. It burned, but I didn't wince. I didn't want to in front of Michael.

"Don't leave? Ever?" He says, his voice sounding desperate.

"Okay."

He needed me and I needed him. I accompanied him in the mornings to get coffee. He bummed money off of Calum on our way, and we annoyed the cashier together.

Halloween night rolled around. We didn't get dressed up.

Instead, I sat on his lap, a blanket around us as we sat on the balcony. It was just getting dark, and we watched the kids go trick or treating as the mosquitos buzzed around.

He kissed my neck lazily, whispering something about what we would be doing tonight. I didn't pay attention.

I was fascinated with the kids. They seemed so happy. I wished I was that happy.

I didn't look away until Michael pulled me back inside, into his small bedroom.