zentropy | mileven.

²⁵⁾ changes

[MIKE POV. THREE YEARS LATER.]

❝ things could be different, but I don't know how, I'm going through changes now, spent a lifetime trying to figure it out, I'm going through changes now ! ❞

━ CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.

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WHEN I was little, I thought love meant feeling happy.

the inevitable way one can shift from a descent in feeling to a swelling uplift of joy—to me, that was love. love was feeling like everything fell into place. like everything was perfect.

love meant being the same soul, connected in interests and regard. it meant everything had to feel easy, effortless, seamless. that was what love meant to me back then.

it's been three years since I've seen her.

we got through that final year of high school without speaking a word to each other, without sharing more than a quick glance as we crossed paths down the hallways or running into each other on our way to the bathroom. and then the first year of college past, and the last I've heard, jane was majoring in film at the UCLA.

I took my first year of college at an arbitrarily small school in indiana, and by the end of the term, I was determined to make it to california. as close to los angeles as possible. somehow. and so I transferred to USC—

majoring in culinary arts.

"now you tell me," she insisted, leaning over and nudging the side of my body with hers as we walked along the path, my balance faltering slightly and then catching myself as a giggle exited her mouth.
"I don't know," I mumbled, "I don't really have any dreams."
"no way, liar," she pushed on, my face turning a blushed red.

it was somewhat true—I didn't really have any prospects for the future. there wasn't anything I was good at or anything I'd ever planned to be. in all honesty, I'd expected to become something boring like an engineer—anything to make my parents happy enough to be confident that I could make a living for myself.

"it's true!" I laughed, using my own body to knock into the side of hers just as she'd done.
"woah," she exclaimed sarcastically at my actions, "feisty."
I belly laughed at this, the two of us noisily letting our chortles harmonize into the air.
"fine, fine, there is something," I admitted.
"oh, do tell," she sang, clearly entertained.
"okay, but I've never told anyone before and you can't tell anyone either," I warned her. it was true—it had been merely a thought hidden away to myself, not a single soul, not even lucas, knew about it.
"oh really? well, I'm honored," she smirked. I took a deep breath, and let my mouth sound out the unspoken words:

"I've always wanted to be a cook."

I waited for the laughter— for the chuckles and playful arm punches— but they never came. all she did was continue on walking.
"a cook? like a chef?" she questioned. I nodded hesitantly, gulping my nerves down. "why a cook?" she then asked, turning to me with inquisitive eyes.
"well, I've always liked cooking. helping my mom out, y'know," I spoke softly, scared that if I spoke too loud, someone could hear me, regardless of the fact that we were alone.
"that's cool," she said loudly, my heart jumping at her volume.
"it is?" my voice came out shakier than I'd wanted it to, but it was the first time I'd ever told anyone my secret, and her reaction had taken me by surprise, to say the least.
"yeah, you should do it," she said, "you should be a cook."
"really? I don't know, I mean—"