muke//kissing in the rain

chapter 8

Having people around is the strangest thing. It's so foreign to me, so different. All my life I've been content with no company but my own. My dad and I used to be thick as thieves. Up until a few months before he found out I was gay. We used to go fishing, he'd drive me around in his old pick up and get us burgers and we would laugh and make memories. I hate those memories.

I was terrified when I found out I was gay, so approval from my parents was the only thing I desired. My mom was proud and told me that liking boys was no different than liking girls. Love is love. My dad slapped my across the face and called my a faggot. My father had never hit me before in my life. My mom did the best she could to get him to stop, and they fell out of love along the way. They got a divorce a year after.

I know my dads an ass, and his opinions were wrong. My mother raised me to know right from wrong. But when the person you look up to the most takes pleasure out of taking a burning cigarette to my skin. He told me I was a waste of space. And it hurt a lot. He was part of why I barely talk. I fear everything I say would be the wrong thing and I'd accidentally turn everyone I love against me. And that's also why I shut people out. Thanks dad.

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I sat on the stool in my kitchen, swivelling around and watching Michael look desperately through my cupboards and fridge. First time the guys in my house and he's made himself more at home than I've ever been here. He's even claimed a chair AND milk jug.

"Really? You're going to write your name on the Nutella as well?" I said sassily. Talking is new to me so it probably sounded more like a 6!year old girl whining for her Barbie.

He turned around with the jar in his hand and smirked, placing it back on the shelf.

"What? You've got like, four. Can't I have at least one? And plus I plan on being here a lot so I'm gonna need it!!" He exclaimed, grabbing the popcorn out of the microwave and tossing it at me. My eyes lit up at his statement. It's only occurring to me now that I actually have a friend. He's not even hanging out with me out of pity. I smiled to my self and stretched, my graphic tee riding up and showing my pale skin underneath.

We both went up to my room and he looked around in awe. He seemed to be fascinated with all the pictures, album covers and book signing posters I had covering the ceiling. I know that's an odd place to put things but hey, here in the Lucas household, anything goes.

He sat cross legged in front of my enormous bookshelf and examined all of the titles. I watched him as he cutely plucked books off the shelf one by one. He was wearing his typical black skinny jeans with a baggy grey hoodie. He always did this cute thing where he pulled the sleeves down over his hands and it looks like paws!! He doesn't think he's cute, but he really is. He thinks he's punk and cool and badass and shit like that. He is, I used to be intimidated by his fierceness. But when you get to know him, under all that bark, he's just a kitten. A really sexy kitten.

"Half of these I've seen at the bookstore." He said matter of factly. My drooling over him seemed to go unnoticed, so I just pretended that I definitely wasn't stating at him with heart eyes.

"The real question is, have you read them?" I asked, joining him on the floor with the popcorn bag.

"Hell no! Do I look like I read??" He chuckled, tossing a piece of popcorn at my hair.

"Well, no. but if I'm correct, you do work in a bookstore." He uncrossed his legs and leaned against a black throw pillow I had laying around.

"Hey! It pays the bills. It was either that or mcdonalds. Working at rotten Ronnie's would be a dream, but I'd get too fat." He shrugged. How come his parents don't pay the bills. That's a bit rude to make him do all the work. It's literally a full time job.

"But I don't hate books, honestly. I appreciate them. I just don't take advantage of their glorious wonders." I laughed at his choice of words.

"So why do you have to pay the bills? Like yeah I get that it's great to help out, but isn't that mostly the parents job?" I asked, stacking some books back on the shelves.

"Nah my parents are dead."

My heart dropped to my stomach when he said those words. Poor Michael. He has no parents. I'm such a shitty person.

"I'm so sorry Michael. I-I didn't know. I shouldn't have-"

"No, dude don't sweat it. It was a few years ago. Car crash. I loved them to bits and all but they were pretty far up my sisters ass anyway." By this time we had relocated to my bed. We sat across from each other, mindlessly munching on the popcorn.

"I didn't know you had a sister....?" I'd never heard him mention having siblings before. But then again, his parents died so he must be amazing at hiding himself from the world.

"Yeah her names Hannah. She's 4 years older than me." The mood seemed to change when I asked about his sister so I dropped it. I didn't want to prod, and it seemed like there was bad blood there.

"So what about your family, hey?"

I looked around my room and my eyes landed at the black keys record that was given to me a few months ago. Aunt Janis.

"I live here with my mom. She's away on a business trip right now though, that's why you haven't been harassed by her yet" he chuckled lightly.

"I have two older brothers, jack and Ben, they both live away with their girlfriends. They visit on special occasions. I love them very much and they're two of the small pool of people that are aware of my existence and appreciate it. They attended school abroad when I was young for advanced learning reasons. My dad left when I was younger, and well, yeah." I picked at the threads on my dark purple and black bed spread.

"My aunt Janis. She lives in Australia and she's probably the coolest, nicest person ever. She buys me books and music and talks to me and she's just really great."

Michael rolled his eyes at my gushing, though he was smiling. He lightly shoved my backwards.

"Well why don't you just go out with her!" He yelled in mock annoyance.

"She's like 50! And my aunt! And I'm gay! And I like someone else!" I yell I'm defence. Then I realize I said out loud that I like someone. Craaappp.

Michael looked at my questioningly, then got up in my face, hands on either side of my waist. I was blushing like crazy and really really scared.

"You never told me you liked someone! Who? Do I know him? Does he have abs? Abs are important!" He said in a rushed voice. I snorted.

"Abs are not important! It's not about looks. It's about what's on the inside and how they make you feel. But this person I like is very attractive." The words just spilled out of my mouth. Hopefully the blush on my face wasn't making it too obvious. Michael still treated it like a big mystery so I guess it wasn't.

"That's beside the point!" He hissed jokingly, searching my eyes as if they held the answer.

"I'm not telling you! Maybe another time." I pushed him off gently and he rolled sideways, landing on his back next to me.

"You better, Lucas. I know where you live."

"Stop trying to be scary it doesn't work." That was kind of a lie. He can be scary sometimes.

I rested my head on his shoulder gently and We both smiled at each other and just stared up to the ceiling. My twinkling lights were swaying slightly, due to the warm wind coming from my open window. This made the lights dance all around my room. It was beautiful. He was beautiful.
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Michael Clifford's hair holy hotness I cried. My happiness has been resurrected because of your hair. I love you. Ugh.