"Have you guys seen Michael?" My curiosity finally gets the best of me.
"Haven't seen him," Abraham answers lazily. I almost laugh. Someone had pulled out some more weed and gave everyone a roll. I took a while taking in mine. God that felt good. But there was something still bumping around in my mind, worried that Michael wasn't here yet.
"Jesus everyone turn into stoners while I was gone?" a familiar voice asked. I perked up immediately and started clawing aimlessly toward the entrance of the trampoline.
"Michael," I say lazily trying to reach out for him. He seems to be out of my reach though.
"Come here," hands grab mine sending jolts down my arms. They pull me off the trampoline. Michael grunts as he pulls and I can't help but find it hilarious as I fall to the grass. "Come on," Michael grunts again pulling me up to my feet. Hazily I see him and smile. It's probably the buzz but he looked particularly cuter tonight.
"Michael, where've you been?" I ask trying to keep my balance. I smell something. At first I think it's my own breath but I realize the stench is coming from Michael. That alcoholic stench I always get hit with when I go to Michael's house. "You okay?" I ask.
"Yeah, come on." He says determined to slink my arm over his shoulder and pull me into the house. I find myself giggling like an idiot as he slips me through the crowd. When we reach the stairs my eyes trail them. Somehow they seem longer, turning from stairs into a mountain.
"Look Mikey, a mountain," I laugh into Michael's neck.
"Dammit, how drunk are you?" he asks as he starts climbing the stairs, pulling me along too. It amazes me as I reach the top, part of me was sure it was gonna fall back on the stairs and die but something about having Michael pull me up the stairs reassured me. He'd probably throw himself down the stairs before he'd let me go.
"Where are we going?" I ask impatiently as he pulls me along the smoke filled second floor. Michael doesn't respond, instead leads me down the hall until we reach a guest room. I want to warn Michael about possible acrobats but he pulls inside before I can get the words right in my head.
Thankfully no one is doing anything in here. Michael sets me on the bed in a huff. I bury my face in the soft cushions and almost instantly fall asleep. But Michael making another noise makes me realize he had a reason for bringing me up here.
"Why did you bring me up here?" I ask muffled by the pillow. I turn on my back and see Michael sitting on the edge of his bed, twiddling his fingers anxiously.
"I needed to be alone, alone with you for a little bit," Michael answers. A smile spreads across my face. Something inside me lights up at his words. I find myself crawling toward him in the darkness until I'm pressed against his back with my head nuzzled against his neck.
"I missed you too." I say softly into his neck. He sort of shrugs a little. I think he meant to push me off, I can't stop the hurt feeling that hits my chest with a pang.
"It's not that." Michael says. That hurts feeling spread a little more and the smile quickly fades. I remember how he came so late. What was he doing? The pungent stench of alcohol came back to me, why was he drinking.
"Michael why were you late?" He silently shrugs in front of me.
"I told my mom today." My heart skips a beat, my blood runs cold, what the hell did he mean by that?
"Told her what?" I ask warily but I think I know what it means.
"I told her I was gay." Michael explains. This time it's not as much of a shock. I knew what he meant in the beginning…I just have no idea why the fuck he would tell her.
"Wwhy did you tell her?" I stutter out. Michael just shrugs again.
"I was at home, alone with her. She was on the couch, talking about how great a son I am. How much she loves me, and how much she can't wait until I get old enough to go to school. She was pretty hammered I guess. So I just said it." Michael says still playing with his fingers.
"Told her what exactly?" I ask feeling myself getting soberer every second.
"You know I just said…That I love my best friend." Michael admits with another innocent looking shrug. His voice though makes me want to cry. He sounds hurt, sad, and that feeling of needed to comfort Michael takes over. Like it did the night he showed up on my porch, and many other nights before.
I slip one hand around his chest, over his heart. The other I hold over his stomach. I feel his heart race, unlike the rest of him. It reveals how scared his is. How vulnerable he is. I used to think that he was fearless. He was brave, strong, something I really admired about him. But now I know he's not. He's still strong, brave in the fact that he could ever tell anyone, especially his mom but now I know something else. Just how vulnerable he is. And it's something else I really admire. Unlike me at least he can show his feelings to me, especially when I'm too terrified to even tell him what I'm feeling.
I tighten my grip on him and lay a peck against his neck. It's the best I can do to try to comfort him. It's what I'd hope he'd do if I ever told my mom. Although if that were to happen I doubt I'd ever even see Michael again.