L is for Lost. He had been wandering aimlessly for what felt like hours, hut honestly must have only been one at the most, the freezing November rain plastering his clothing to his skin and hiding his tears in plain sight, not that he would ever admit that he'd let a few fall. After another rousing evening of needling and being told he was nothing more than a worthless freak only good for the check his fostering provided, he'd stormed out of the stifling tin can Hank called home and headed for his sanctuary, completely forgetting that Max and Isabel were visiting family that weekend until he was nearly halfway to their house.
He had been far more concerned with and concentrating too hard on not losing the fragile hold he had on the reins of his volatile powers, that it wasn't until he managed to curtail the crackling anger surrounding him that he recalled the locked and empty house.
After standing on the corner of Magnolia and Vine streets for several minutes, feeling utterly discouraged and a bit astray, he shrugged the discomfiting feelings off and turned to the left, walking on a directionless course until he stumbled onto a street that had become familiar in his night time 'strolls' (read his escapes from Hank's questionable brand of love and fatherly concern). Staring at a pretty, cozy house in the middle of the block, he gave a bitter laugh that he was drawn to this home filled with hope, happiness and laughter, touched here and there by something slightly kooky.
But then again, what else could one expect from Maria and her mother?
It shined cheerfully in the dimming light, slightly off kilter, but a warm, inviting and solid beacon in the cold. It was yet one more place closed off to the likes of him – his kind didn't belong in bright, golden place like this.
Scuffing his foot, he ignored the pang in his heart that yearned for a touch of kindness, knowing that silent cry would fall on deaf ears and the wish a useless endeavor, and he continued down the street, practically invisible to the blithe, laughing families that lined it. The only exception to the rule, were those that watched him with wary eyes, as if they expected him to bum rush them or break down their, pretty, cookie-cutter doors and cart off all their dubious treasures.
Scoffing to himself, he sneered at one such person as they peered out of their cold-frosted window, tracking his progress and he couldn't help smirking at the slight touch of fear that sparked in the woman's eyes when she realized she'd been made and shut the curtains with a twitch of her hand. If they all were as Godly and benevolent as they liked to believe, they would have offered him a place to wait out the storm, rather than left a cold, wet teenager out in the pouring rain.
But that was for people like Max – the perfect son and student, who gave shy smiles instead of bitter smirks.
Which lead him to where he was now standing; his feet always lead him here eventually, no matter how long he wandered or how desperately he tried to say away, he always found himself staring into the brightly lit windows of the Crashdown. Saturated and frozen down to the bone, he stared in, debating on whether he should enter the diner or not, but he never had the opportunity to reach a firm conclusion as bright brown eyes stared up at him and a low husky voice broke through his reverie.
"Michael, what are you doing out there?" Liz asked as she came to the door and stared out into the darkness, a halo of light surrounding her. "You'll catch your death. Get in here before you get sick."
L is for Longing. She had grabbed his hand and pulled him int the brightly lit diner before he could protest, the light so blinding after wandering in the darkness for so long, it made his eyes water. Or at least that's the excuse he gave himself as she bundled him off to the bathroom with a towel and a change of clothing; it definitely had nothing to do with ache building in his chest and constricting his lungs, making it difficult to breathe. And it most definitely had nothing to do with the sweet smile she tossed him as she told him that a hot cup of coffee and a slice of cake would be waiting for him at his usual booth, 'on the house.'
Because he was immune to such sweetness.
Sliding into the booth in what could only be her father's sweats, he picked up the steaming cup, letting the warmth of the glass leach the icy cold from his fingers, one that had built during night time wandering, while Liz gathered his sodden clothing, chirping something about putting them into the dryer for him. Watching as she all but floated out of the dining room, he tried to fathom out what he was feeling. She had always been a bit f an enigma to him, and often brought a flood of uncomfortable emotions in her wake, which is why he often went out of his way to avoid her.
Sipping the scalding beverage, he sat, quietly observing as she came back in, chatting brightly with a couple of customers, but he could tell from her lack of uniform that it was her night off and she was likely down here doing her homework. Smiling wanly when looked up and flashed him that winsome smile that Maxed so often waxed poetic about, he inhaled sharply and averted his gaze, a stab of envy slashing through his heart.
What would it feel like, to have that warm, open acceptance all of your life?
Closing his eyes, he ignored the stinging in the backs of his eyes, attributing it to sudden dryness due to the warmth of the cafe after the damp, cold night. It couldn't be anything else. When he opened them again, Liz was perched on a stool at the counter, leaning against it and chattering at her grinning father,obviously weaving some story about school or her earlier shift, her hands waving in emphasis to some point as the other man let out a hearty chuckle.
Swallowing thickly, he looked away as his throat closed up, the coffee traveling down it like shards of glass as it worked its way over the lump lodged there. He felt like he was intruding on a deeply personal, private moment between father and daughter, but it found it difficult to look away for long, drawn to them like a moth to a flame. And in their typical open way, father and daughter invited the scrutiny, entreating the world to share in their joy.
A concept he never understood.
L is Laughter. It was bright as sunshine and twice as warm as it spilled over her lips, each sparkling note tugging at something he'd carefully buried long ago for his own sanity. But that reserve never worked around her – she was one of those people that seemed to suspend all rules and formalities until you were lost in a sea of light and air and radiance; and you didn't quite know how to close off those cold, dark places once you'd been exposed.
Shifting his gaze away from Liz and her father, his heart hitched when her mother came through the door, drawn by the effervescent, delighted laughter that rang through the diner; one that garnered soft smiles and answering chuckles, although he doubted anyone knew why they laughed. It was just that infectious – a perfect vision of familial bliss as Liz's mother slid onto the stool next to her and wrapped an affectionate arm around her shoulders, listening to the remaining conversation with a half-smile.
And it made him ache.
There, he admitted it; it wasn't just Max Evans that he envied.
Swallowing the rest of the now lukewarm coffee, he set the empty cup onto the table, startling when it was instantly filled by a passing waitress, who smiled blandly at him when he looked up before she moved on; he felt momentarily confused at the attention, but then he caught the glance between the waitress and Liz, and realization dawned. Of course, Liz had talked to the waitress and asked her to watch over him.
Swiping a hand over his face, he wanted to let out a bitter chuckle, but that would negate the kindness Liz had shown him this evening and it wasn't her fault that he was viewed less than favorably by most of the town.
Keeping his eyes pinned to the swirling dark liquid in his mug, he flinched when those silvery tones echoed through the dining room again and he noted Liz slipping from her seat to head to the back room and her parents exchanging a fond smile from the corner of his eye. It made his insides twist, a flutter of resentment and jealously fluttering through his gut before he quashed it ruthlessly. She didn't deserve his antagonism when she had done nothing to earn it.
All because a dark, secret part of him longed for her life.
L is for Love. It was apparent in every move and gesture that her parents made towards each other – the loving looks that spoke volumes, the tender touches that were made without thought, all done without words because they weren't necessary.
But most apparent tonight was their love for her. Their faces just lit up when she entered the room- the pride and joy they took in her evident and bled through all their actions. It was patently obvious that she was the light of their lives; that she always had been and always would be no matter what she did with her life. Especially as she came back out with a bundle of clothing, flashing them that irrepressible grin that told everyone just how happy they made her, before she walked over to him with his now warm, dry clothing.
Those looks made him burn inside.
"Here you are, Michael," she smiled, setting them on the other bench. "For whenever you're ready."
Smirking at her, he toasted her with his mug and downed the hot liquid, only wincing slightly as it scalded its way down his throat. Grabbing the stack of clothing, he quickly made his way to the bathroom and changed, carefully folding and placing Mr. Parker's clothes aside. Sighing he walked over to the sink and washed his hands, startled by the sadness that shined out of his eyes. Closing his eyes to the pain lurking in them, he reconstructed his 'I don't give a damn' mask and stepped out the door, swiftly making his way to the dining room.
"Michael, come join us," Liz called out as he entered, waving him over to where she was sitting with her parents, both of whom also sent him a welcoming smile. It was tempting to join them, to pretend that he was a normal teen for just one night. But he didn't have the luxury of clinging to impossible dreams; it made the harsh, cold reality of his life that much more heartbreaking.
"Can't," he shrugged negligently, not allowing them to see how much it hurt to stand there and watch their joy and smiled weakly as he nodded the door. "Have to get going."
"Are you sure," Liz asked, frowning thoughtfully. "We could call..."
"I'm sure," he interrupted, desperately trying to quell the fear that rose in his chest, choking off his air supply before he took a deep breath and forced himself to relax. He could just imagine Hank's reaction to a call and the vitriol that would spew from his mouth at the mention of his 'beloved' foster son. He didn't need any more pity. "Thanks for the invite, but you know how Isabel is – I should get moving."
"It's a terrible night to be out," Liz hedged, turning concerned brown eyes to the still falling rain, looking as if she were about to call his bluff. Flinching internally at the thought, he waved her off impatiently and headed towards the door. The last thing he needed was for her to find out that he had nowhere to go.
"It's okay," he smirked, hoping to get out of there before she recalled that Max and Isabel were away that weekend. "I like walking in the rain."
"Well," Liz said, walking over to him and gently placed something in his hand; he looked down questioningly, his breath hitching slightly when he saw an umbrella and a Crashdown bag. "At least take these with you. No need for you to get drenched before you get home. Next time?"
"Ummm...yeah, sure, next time," he stammered, knowing it for the fabrication it was as he stared at her blankly even as she smiled brightly at him, once again at a loss of what to make of this girl that had crash landed into his world. "I should go."
Stepping out into the night, he let the darkness descend over him, making him feel at ease. He was comfortable with the dark and didn't need the bright, garish happiness that seeped out the Crashdown's door. Placing a hand to the frosted glass, he looked in at the warm, joyful scene one final time and then squared his shoulders, tucking the umbrella under his arm, turned and walked away, the rain falling quietly around him.
He didn't need the light; it was better this way, lost here in the dark. It was known and never expected too much of him, unlike those bright, blithe faces in the happy, shiny houses.
L is for Lie.
