they're carving my name (in the grave again) - byler

chapter 8 - the flowers are fresh

As the sun timidly peeked through the curtains, Mike found himself abruptly woken up by his father. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he begrudgingly sat up in bed, his mind still clouded with worry.

"Michael, get up! You need to get ready for school," his father's voice rang out, lacking the empathy Mike longed for.

Mike's frustration surged through him, fueled by his father's seeming disregard for the gravity of the situation. "Dad, seriously? Will's missing, and still, all you care about is school?"

His father let out an exasperated sigh, his face etched with impatience. "I understand that you're concerned about your friend, Son, but you can't let it consume every aspect of your life. School is important too."

Mike's jaw tightened, his anger simmering beneath the surface. "You don't get it! Will is my best friend. How can I focus on school when he might be out there, in danger?"

His father's expression softened slightly, a glimmer of understanding flickering in his eyes. "Look, I get that things are tough, but maybe going to school could provide some sort of normalcy. It might give you a chance to escape, distract yourself for a while."

Mike's shoulders slumped, his anger giving way to resignation. Reluctantly, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, defeated. "Fine, I'll go to school. But don't expect me to pay attention or pretend like everything's okay."

Before his dad could say anything more, Mike quickly pushed past him, determination fueling his actions. With clothes clutched tightly in his hand, he headed towards the bathroom, desperate to change and get ready for the day.

He quickly got ready, taking a few moments to fix his hair before heading back to his room to grab his backpack. As he stepped into his room, he was met with a disheveled sight—clothes and books scattered across the floor, creating a chaotic mess.

A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he surveyed the untidiness surrounding him. It was a reflection of his scattered thoughts and the turmoil within his heart. Knowing he couldn't afford to waste any more time, he pushed aside the mess, carefully navigating through the scattered items to reach his backpack.

He slung the bag over his shoulder and descended the stairs, he heard his mother's voice coming from the kitchen, "Mike, come eat something. You can't go to school on an empty stomach."

Mike shook his head as he walked into the kitchen, his resolve unwavering. "I'm not hungry. I just want to get to school and get this day over with."

His mom let out a sigh, understanding the weight on his shoulders, but refrained from pressing further. "Your dad is waiting in the car for you, I'm sorry he's insisting on school, honey," she expressed, her tone laced with sympathy.

"It's fine, Mom," he reassured her, mustering a faint smile. He walked out of the house and made his way to the car. The ride to school was quiet, with Mike staring out the window, lost in thought.

As his dad drove, he suddenly broke the silence, interjecting with an unrelated matter. "By the way, when you have the chance, you need to clean your room. It's a mess," he commented, his voice carrying a note of sternness.

Mike's eyebrows furrowed as his gaze shifted towards his father, a mixture of surprise and annoyance crossing his face. At that moment, he couldn't fathom how cleaning his room could be a concern when his best friend was missing. But, he simply nodded.

When they arrived at the school, Mike quickly got out of the car and slammed the door shut. He didn't even look back at his father, who was watching him with a mixture of concern and frustration. Mike walked into the school building, his head down.