Pairing: Michael/Gavin
Length: One-shot
Rating: T-13+
A/N: Happy New Year! Currently unedited so ignore stupid mistakes. My failed attempt at writing something sad may be cringe-worthy. Contains adult language
Summary: The rain will wash and dry away but unfortunately my tears will not. I'm sorry, Gavin.
Pitter, patter.
Michael stood in the cold rain, alone, at the time of noon. The clouds filled the skies with grey tones; it didn't look like daytime anymore. The rain poured heavily. He could feel his hair dampen from the rain, as droplets trailed down his face and soaked through the front of his clothing. His bare fingers were frozen, not daring to move. His whole entire body stood still, like a statue carved from time. But to Michael, it was the other way around. His mind was racing, and his surroundings were a blur, like an unfocused photograph.
Michael sniffed. December was so cold. His thick coat resisted the coldness in the air, but it could never stop the coldness in his heart.
Pitter, patter.
He imagined how warm his hand would be, wrapped tightly around his, and with their fingers intertwined. He could feel his thumb brushing against the back if his hand, drawing invisible lines across his skin. He knew he would play with the cold air, taking big breaths and exhaling the smoke-like fog.
Michael! You're going to catch a cold in this rain, you mong. Get under my umbrella. He would probably sing the famous lyric from 'Umbrella'; to him, it would be criminal not to. Michael could imagine him laughing at him for soaking in the rain and calling him an idiot for doing so.
The back of his head was being pelted by the heavy rain. From his hands up to his shoulders were now numb from the cold. His face felt hard; he was so cold that his teeth didn't even chatter and his lips refused to tremble. Underneath his coat's sleeve, Goosebumps crawled their way from his shoulder down.
"Alright, shut up! Just move your fucking ass or we're going to be late," Michael stormed off ahead. He had lost his patience for today.
"We're not going to be late, you div. We're on time," he replied. He fumbled with the keys to close his front door and hurried behind Michael as he walked faster in attempt to catch up with his pace.
"Not if you keep fucking around," Michael sighed as he rubbed his fingers on his temples. "For fuck's sake Gavin, hurry up before I punch your dumb face in."
Gavin. Michael brought his hands together. He could barely move his fingers and struggled to intertwine them. He began rubbing his palms together. His eyes' focus blurred and he blinked rapidly to clear his vision. Only then, he realised that the cause of his fogged sight were his own tears and not the pouring rain above him. The clouds of misery did not seem to be leaving the skies anytime soon, but neither did Michael.
"Hey Michael, crank up some beats, will ya?" Gavin called from the back seat. Michael sighed. "That's the least you could do for me since you kicked me from the front seat."
Michael exhaled again, "if you sat next to me, I would end up punching you in the jaw; we'd probably swerve." The traffic lights in front changed from green, to amber, to red. While they were stationary, Michael turned on the radio to his regular station to shut up the Brit.
Gavin, looking pleased with his request being fulfilled, leaned back in his seat. "My bad for waking up late, but don't be so angry Michael. It's our day today!" Gavin smiled while looking at Michael through the rear-view mirror.
Michael decided to consider Gavin's words and calm himself down. "Yeah, you right Gavin," he looked in the front mirror to see Gavin smiling back at him, "let's have fun today." The traffic lights finally turned green and Michael stepped on accelerator.
Michael sniffled. Sometimes he hated coming here. He hated it because it haunted him so much. He looked to the ground at his feet; his boots were slightly sinking into the muddy ground beneath him. Gavin, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry that I took everything away from you.
Michael couldn't see anything. All he remembered was a hard force coming from the right-side that blasted out his senses. He remembered hearing Gavin yelling out his name and his seatbelt strangling his chest. He smelled oil and smoke and realised his limbs were trapped between heavy metal and leather objects. His eyes couldn't see through the thick smoke and he could barely think through the throbbing pain in his brain. Everything clicked. Michael finally realised what had happened. He was frozen from shock.
Gavin. Where was Gavin? Michael couldn't move. He couldn't speak. He tried to concentrate, but everything was just pain. He felt like a useless rag-doll. In the distance, he could hear multiple sirens. Help was coming.
He just hoped Gavin was okay.
Pitter, patter.
Michael's face was now drenched in tears. He fell to his knees in front of his loved one. Slowly, with much energy, he lifted his arm and struggled to move his fingers. They were numb from the coldness and pain. He brought them up to the cold, cobblestone that marked his resting place and brushed his fingers along the surface.
RIP Gavin Free, a young man who was dearly loved.
"Gavin," Michael mumbled between sobs. He thought of Gavin. He remembered seeing his last sight of him, smiling back at him through the rear-view mirror. How happy he was to spend his time with his best friend. How eager he was for that day.
That last day of his that Michael stole and ended.
Please come back and play games with me.
Please come back and argue with me.
Please come back and be my boy.
I'm so sorry.
It's my entire fault.
I'm sorry, Gavin.