neighbors//muke

four

He didn't even say anything once he got back into the car. 

In fact, he didn't say anything the whole time we were drving. And we drove for awhile. 

The radio didn't even play. It was extremely uncomfortable. We sat in silence, his face still red. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" I ask finally. My voice came out wavery and I wanted to die.

"About what?" He doesn't move his eyes.

"The fighting?"

To my surprise, he laughs. Laughs.  

"Nothing really. My mom's boyfriend is just a giant dick."

"Why?"

"He just doesn't like me."

I couldn't think of an answer, so we slowly lapsed back into silence. It was really dark out now, and I noticed the lights from a distant city. 

Michael finally stops. At a coffee place.  (how original) The place stood out, against streets full of brick buildings. The coffee place was painted bright yellow,with another floor, which I assumed was an apartment. 

I couldn't help but scoff.

"What?" He raises an eyebrow, smirking. 

"I just didn't expect you to like coffee? Or coffee places?" I adjust my glasses again. 

"I don't," He opens the car door. "And are those glasses fake?" Judging by how he asked it, I guessed that he knew the answer. 

All I did was roll my eyes in return, and stepped out. 

Inside, it was pretty much empty. 

"Michael!" A guy with dark hair greets him. "You do know I'm about to close, right?" 

Michael nods, pointing towards me. 

"Yeah, I know. I can lock up if you want? We're just going to be here for a bit."

Finally the other guy notices me. 

"Oh . Who's this?" He asks, raising his eyebrows as he wiped out a glass. 

"Luke. He's my new friend." Michael jumps over the counter, going to help out his friend. 

His friend looks me up and down. Then laughs. "Nice glasses."

Michael laughs too. "Luke, this is Calum." 

 (i had 2 put calum in this i am sorry) 

It's silent as Calum and Michael finish washing the coffee mugs, and I sit there awkwardly. I  barely even knew Michael. I felt so weird here. 

Calum finally finishes, and stows away his apron. 

"I pretty much finished already, but yeah. Just make sure to lock it. And don't eat too many cookies. And don't tell George I let you here when you aren't supposed to be." 

"Yeah, yeah. Thanks." Michael grabs the keys out of Calum's hands, and throws them on the counter. "Bye!" 

"How do you know him?" I finally ask. 

"Calum? That asshole?" He laughs loudly. "I work with him."

"You work here? " I was kind of shocked. It almost seemed like the place I may work at. Or hang out at. But MIchael? Michael hated coffee and his parents paid for everything. Why would he need a job, or even get one here?

Michael raises an eyebrow. "Yeah. I like it. I don't work a lot but it's distracting. Why?"

"I just didn't peg you as one to work here I guess."

Michael is behind the counter again, and opening up a glass container. He grabs a hanfull of cookies, setting them on a paper plate, and hands them to me. "Let's go." 

He leads me to a door at the end of the room, which led to a hallway. I noted the bathrooms, and then at the end of the hallway, a door. 

"It goes up towards the apartment." Michael tells me, pushing the door open. 

"Are you supposed to be here?" I ask, struggling to balance the plate as I followed Michael up the dim stairs. 

"No." He says, stomping. "But nobody lives here, so it's okay. I like it here." 

The apartment was bare. The floor creaky wood, and the walls a blank white. The only furniture it had was a worn coffee table in the corner, by a smudged glass door. Which is where Michael went.

He pushed open the door, but not before leaning over to pull open the single drawer in the coffee table. He pulls out a box, and something round and bright pink, before rushing out the door. 

I met him outside, shutting the door behind me, and setting the cookies down. We were on a set of stairs. Kind of like a porch. They faced the empty lot behind the cafe, obviously another way to get into the house. (I later asked MIchael why he used the front entrance then. He told me it was so he could get cookies.) It was peaceful out there. Almost urban. I could get why Michael liked it. 

When I went outside, he was leaning against the wooden rails, smoking. 

That's what he had picked up. 

Michael was full of surprises.

He looks towards me, breathing out, as whisps if smoke breathed through his lips.

"I go here a lot." He confesses, waving around the cigarette as he talked. "I just tell my mom I worked or something. But I like it."

I nodded, understanding. 

"Want one?" He opens up the near empty pack, and pulls out a cigarette. 

"Sure," I say, letting him light it, and eyed it. I didn't smoke a lot. Only occasionally, around other people. 

"I don't do this a lot." He motions, as if reading my mind. "Just a stress thing? I guess? If my mom knew, she would kill me. Or let her boyfriend do it." He shrugs. 

"I'm sorry." I say, unaware of what really to say. 

"It's honestly fine." He's waving around the cigarette again. "This is such an emo thing to say, but I'll be gone soon."

-

oo okay this was wild

why?do?i?make?michael?smoke?in?so?many?of?my?stories??

i listened so strange love while writing this i feel it