neighbors//muke

seventeen

        My parents went to bed fairly early, around eleven. It was dark outside, with a single moon illuminating the night, and the sound of crickets chirping. It was still pretty warm, summer just starting to fade. It was the kind of night you would want to drive around with your windows down in. Which is what I planned on doing, but I had somewhere to go. 

I knew i wasn't supposed to have the car. If I had asked, my parents would have said no. They would remind me that I had school tomorrow, but this was urgent. 

Before leaving, I grabbed my glasses. I didn't care how dumb Michael said I looked. I liked them.

I drove down the streets, headlights off to risk not being seen. I played my CHVRCHES cd on the way there, trying to take my mind off of what I was doing. 

I barely remembered the way to the woods, but once I actually made it there (after making lots of wrong turns) I started to regret my decision. First off, it was late. It was dark. Did I really want to walk through the woods for this? 

Sighing, I turned on my phone flashlight and started the journey to the tree house.

It was so dark, I hated it so much. Every small sound, even the sound of my own footsteps made me react. 

The treehouse was right where I knew it would be. Not looking any different, it was just there.

I wondered if Michael was up there. Wondered what he was doing, or if he felt lonely. It was late. Maybe he was sleeping. 

I started climbing up. My phone in my mouth (where else would I hold it?), and my hands sweating. I pushed myself onto the wooden floor, too tired to move. 

When I looked in the corner, sure enough, he was there. Asleep, on the trashy mattress. Bottles of alchohol sat next to the bed, and I was pretty sure they were his.

My heart hurt looking at him. He layed on the bed, crumpled up. It was just sad. 

I crawled over to him, shaking his figure. 

"Michael, wake up," I whispered. I shook his body again, and when he didn't respond I started to freak out. I checked to see if he was breathing, my ear skimming his chest. He was. 

I shook him again, this time he sat up. 

He was obviously out of it, his eyes squinting and his arms reaching out to me. 

"Luke?"

"It's me." I inch closer towards him. How did I tell him how much I meant to me? How could I tell him how worried I have been all day? Or how worried I was five minutes ago? The answer was, I couldn't. 

"How did you know I was here?" It was dark, so I could barely make out his figure. I wanted so badly to be able to see his face. 

"Just guessed," I shrugged. His fingers skimmed my face, coming across the glasses. 

"You wore your glasses?" 

"Yes."

"Nerd." 

His voice sounded hoarse, his fingers shaking and unsteady. I leaned closer towards his body, breathing in his smell. It was nice, really. Just the two of us here. I would have preferred it if it was lighter, but I had to take what I could get. I could hear the wind rustling the trees around us, yet it was peaceful. 

"How was school?" He asked, shifting in the bed. I hated this bed. It smelled weird and the blanket w as so bare. And I hated how Michael was here, on this shitty bed. I hated that he spent his day here instead. Suddenly, I was mad. Just thinking about how he was here, and that I was at school all. day. At the school where he had promised to be, to help me out. 

"It was okay. I missed you though."

"Oh."

"Where were you?" His grip tightened on my waist when I asked this. 

"Here, all day." I had suspected that. Actually, I had known. From the alcohol bottles around the bed (that were not there before)and the tone of his voice. There was no where else for him to go. "I would have told you but my mom had my phone. Her and her asshole boyfriend took it."

Now he's moving, reaching to grab something from his pocket while trying to keep one arm around me. Suddenly, his face was illuminated by a lighter, and the smell of cigarette smoke filled the treehouse. 

"Why?" I look away, trying to not get the smoke in my face.

"We got in a fight, what else?" He inhales, and it's silent for a moment. "My mom wants to marry him."

"Is that why?'

I could barely see him, but felt him nod. 

"I should be happy for them, right? But I can't help but feel as if everything the asshole does is to just make me mad. From purposefully leaving me out of stuff, to making rude comments about my appearance, and to drinking all of my soda and 'forgetting' to get me more. They're just dumb things, but it's the way he does it." I listened to the desperate tone of his voice. It comes out shaky, as if he's holding back tears. "I know, I know,  he doesn't like me. I just don't know why she has to like him. But she's happy, and with me being this way, I'm the asshole. I just feel like she doesn't care anymore."

The whole situation sounded frustrating. All I could do was rub my hand on his back, trying to soothe him. "I'm sorry." 

"So I didn't come today. They took my phone, because I had an attitude. Apparently. I just couldn't bring myself to go. I'm sorry Luke, I'm an asshole. I really am, just like they say. I'm an asshole friend and a shitty boyfriend."

I rested my head on his shoulder, breathing in the smell of smoke. I understood. 

"Don't say that." I tell him firmly. "It'll all be okay."