LUKE'S P.O.V.
The whole walk home, I was dying to grab Michael's hand, but I didn't, for three reasons. The first being that I don't even know if Michael's gay. The second reason is that even here, I can tell that not everyone will take kindly to open homosexuals, and I don't plan on getting beat up my first week of school. The final reason is that Michael is fragile. One wrong move and I'll set him off, bringing Gordon out of his shell. I really don't want that to happen, and I can tell Michael doesn't either.
I open the front door of my house for Michael, and he walks across the threshold, like he's uncomfortable going before me. Oops.
"Welcome to La Casa de Hemmings," I spread my arms out, walking into the kitchen, past the massive amount of boxes in the front hallway. "We aren't really done unpacking yet, sorry."
"It's okay," Michael says.
"Do you want something to eat?" I ask Michael, grabbing a banana off the counter.
Michael opens his mouth to answer, but closes it abruptly. He frowns, but shakes his head. "I'm good." He doesn't sound convinced, but I don't want to pressure him.
"Okay then, let's go upstairs," I suggest.
Michael nods, and I lead him towards the narrow staircase. To be perfectly honest, I don't know what I'm doing. Earlier, after Michael's little freak out, I felt drawn to follow him, and as I comforted him, it felt right. All day all I could think about was how badly I wanted to spend time with him, but now that I'm here with him, I don't know what to say, what to do. I don't know if I like Michael as more than a friend, and if I do, I don't want to force anything on him.
But god damn do I want to kiss him.
I open the door to my room, walking in first this time. I plop down on my bed, patting the space next to me. Hesitantly, Michael sits down. He looks extremely uncomfortable, and I wonder just how many friends he has. I haven't noticed him conversing with anyone at school--is this his first time in someone else's room? He clears his throat awkwardly.
I turn to him, smiling. "How was your day, Michael?"
His face immediately turns pale, and he looks scared--threatened, maybe. "It was good," he says without any emotion. "Gordon and I talked about video games at lunch." He sounds like he's reciting lines.
I raise my eyebrows. "That's fun," I say. I want to ask about Gordon, but I know that's not a good idea. Instead, I choose video games, because he brought it up. "Do you play FIFA?"
Michael nods timidly. I stand up and turn on my TV, inserting the game into the game console and grabbing the controllers. I hand one to him and he takes it, holding it in his tiny little hands. At school, Michael was giddy and giggly. Now, he seems nervous and uneasy. He wasn't even like this walking home. Why?
~
An hour later, Michael has beat me at every game we'd played. "Oh, my God," I groan, chucking my controller at the TV. "I give up. How the hell are you so good at this?"
Michael giggles--here's the boy from the cafeteria--and shrugs. "I play a lot. I have a lot of free time."
"Do you play any sports or anything?" I ask him. "Any instruments?"
"Guitar."
I grin at Michael. "Me too! Maybe we can do a duet sometime." I wiggle my eyebrows at him, and his face flushes bright red. He attempts to hide his face in his hands while nodding, but the effort is in vain, because his fingers are too tiny. Pleased with the reaction I got out of him, I make a bold move. I scoot a little closer to Michael, grabbing his wrists and pulling his hands away from his face.
"You don't have to hide from me," I tell him. Our faces are only a few inches apart--it's much closer than we need to be, but not nearly as close as I want to be. I hope Michael doesn't mind it. He doesn't say anything, but nods slowly. He's still burning red. "Why are you being so quiet? You weren't like this at school."
His eyes go wide, and he looks like a deer caught in the headlights. "I, um, I..." he trails off, like he's trying to come up with some excuse in his head, but I don't want an excuse. I want the truth.
"You can tell me," I insist. "I won't judge you."
Michael bites his lip--God, that's hot--and nods again. He moves a little away from me, looking down at the ground. "I was just really nervous to come over," he admits.
"Why?" I frown. "You don't have to be nervous around me, we're friends."
"It's not like I want to be nervous," Michael points out. "Anxiety's a bit of a bitch."
Michael makes dirty words sound pretty. Oh, my God, I want Michael.
"Oh, I'm sorry," I say, suddenly understanding Michael's actions a bit more. "I didn't know."
Michael nods. "I know, it's okay. I feel better now, though."
I'm sure I'm beaming. "Good."
"But I probably should be getting home," he says, standing up. "Dinner will be soon."
"You can eat with us," I offer quickly, not eager to let the lilac haired boy away from me.
"Oh." Michael scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. "Are you sure? I wouldn't want to overstay my welcome."
"Don't be silly," I brush him off. "Of course you aren't."
"Okay," Michael gives me a small smile. He looks bashful, and it's adorable. "I'll text my mum..." He trails off, pulling out his phone. I watch his pudgy little fingers as they type away expertly at his phone, and I wonder what they could expertly do to me.
Snap out of it, I tell myself. Michael and I are just friends, as of right now. I've only just met him, too. I can't come on too strong or I'll scare him away.
"She's cool with it," Michael says. "I think she's a bit jealous, actually." He laughs. "I guess our mums really hit it off."
"Yeah," I say. "My mum hasn't stopped talking about yours."
"I'm glad," Michael replies. "My mum hasn't really had any friends since...in a long time."
I choose to ignore Michael's abrupt change in the direction of the sentence, though I am undeniably curious. "Then I'm glad, too."
~
My mum comes home with a pizza a little while later, and I basically fangirl over Michael as he fangirls over pizza.
"It's kind of an irrational love," Michael admits, trying to hide his smile as he works on his third piece. "But I love pizza so much. Gordon always lets me eat pizza, too."
My eyes go wide, and I struggle not to choke on my food. Gordon lets Michael eat pizza? As in, there are times when Gordon won't let Michael eat?
"What do you mean?" I ask Michael carefully.
Michael shrugs. "Sometimes Gordon tells me not to eat, but he always lets me eat pizza. I think he likes pizza, too."
"Why does he tell you not to eat?"
(A/N: TRIGGER WARNING? ANOREXIA KINDA DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE STRUGGLING PLS <3)
"So I don't get fat," Michael says nonchalantly, like he doesn't realize the problem at hand.
My heart breaks for the beautiful boy in front of me, who is now beginning his fourth slice. He doesn't deserve this level of abuse, especially considering that it's all coming from himself--assuming that Gordon is a fragment of his mind, of course.
"You aren't fat, Michael."
"That's because this is the first thing I've eaten today."
My jaw drops slightly, and I feel an actual physical pain in my chest. "Michael--"
(A/N: TRIGGER OVER)
"I'm sorry!" Michael exclaims suddenly, but I don't think he's talking to me. When I look at him, his eyes are filled with fear. He drops the slice of pizza, looking at the food like it's repulsive. "I-I should go." Michael stands up, wiping his hands off on his jeans and grabbing his backpack off of the chair next to him.
I stand up. "I'll walk you out," I offer. He doesn't respond, he just makes his way towards the door. I follow closely behind, reaching ahead to open the door for him.
"Thanks for having me," he mumbles, walking out.
"See you at school tomorrow!" I call as he makes his way to his neighboring driveway.
Michael doesn't respond with words, but with a blood curling scream.
He grabs his head in pain.
I slam the door shut.
-
A/N: wow im so happy there was no gordon until the very end of the chapter bc i hate gordon wow wow WOW am i cassie ainsworth yet oh wow lovely i hate myself goodbye