𝐌𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬

✿︎ 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 ✿︎

─┈▨⃟⁕✺⃟ ݆݅༞ ✿°.•ꦿ•.°✿ ݆݅༞✺⃟⁕▨⃟┈─

─┈▨⃟⁕✺⃟ ݆݅༞ ✿°.•ꦿ•.°✿ ݆݅༞✺⃟⁕▨⃟┈─

I was currently dating the lead guitarist of The Monkees, Michael Nesmith. I knew he was married, but he told me he just wasn't interested in his wife anymore. I thought the best way to settle that was to file for divorce, but he told me otherwise.
We had met at a supermarket one day in late 1967, and here we are in late 1968. He told me that he had been stressed lately because his wife, Phyllis, accused him of cheating, but he didn't confess it yet.
When we would see each other, we would normally just make love, which is what he was using me for. I knew he was using me just for sex, and it hurt me a little because I knew I was in love with him. I was hoping he had changed his mind about me since we had been spending more time together recently, and he told me about that not long into the affair.
I was getting ready to go to Michael's house one cold, winter morning. He would normally come over my flat because his wife was home, but she was currently on vacation with their son, Christian. I got on a dark blue shirt and some black trousers, then did my hair nicely and put on some makeup. I was planning on looking my best today because I was planning on confessing my love for him.
I had never been to Mike's house before and he had given me the address the night before. I was expecting it to be some place big in a big city since the address was no where near where I lived. Besides, Mike got richer each day with the money from his mother's business, since she created liquid paper.
Anyways, I got on my jacket, got to my car and started driving towards my destination at around 11 AM. It took me only about a half hour to get there, and it was just as I expected it to be. His house was a fairly good size, not humongous, but had 2 floors. After parking my car in the driveway, I examined the outside of his house for a moment before going up to the door. I knocked twice before Mike came and answered it, a small smile on his face.

"Come in," he told me, moving to lean against the door way so I could enter his home, "you can hang your coat there." He pointed to the coat rack that was not far from the door.

"Thanks," I smiled and hung up my coat. I looked at him and saw he was looking at the ground, fiddling with his hands. I took this opportunity to tell him that I had to talk to him. I wasn't sure how he was going to react since he had never shown any love towards me whatsoever, but I hoped he would feel the same. "Michael, can I talk to you?"

"Um, sure. What's up?"

"D-do you mind if we talk outside? It isn't that cold today."

"Sure. Here, we'll go to the garden."

He started walking, so I followed. He opened the sliding door and gestured me to go outside before him, so I gladly entered the garden, him following. We sat down on a bench near a few trees, which were bare other than their branches.

"So, what did you want to talk to me about?" He asked me.
I was so nervous to confess to him. I looked down and started breathing heavily. I then looked up at Mike, who was looking annoyed and waiting for me to speak up. I stood up, so did he, and we looked each other in the eyes.

"Michael, I love you." I blurted out.

He looked at me with wide eyes before sighing, something I knew was going to be bad. He didn't say anything, instead, he just turned away and stared into his own world in icy silence. I felt like such an idiot; he obviously didn't feel the same, and after I would leave, I was most likely never seeing him again.
As these thoughts ran through my head, I started to cry a bit. He then turned to look at me. I hoped he would say something, but he just stared at me like I was crazy. He shook his head and looked at the ground as my looks turned vague, drawn and sad. I had no choice but to run out through the door in the fence. I quickly got into the driveway and got in my car, driving away as fast as possible. I didn't know what to do anymore. I had spent my last few months doing nothing but thinking about him, and now I knew that he didn't care at all. I drove home in silence. I usually would turn on the radio, but all I heard as I drove were my immature cries.
When I met Michael, something inside me changed. I knew how he was when he wasn't so stressed out. He was extremely funny and was full of life. When I met him, he told me how depressed he was and how he hated the way his life was moving along at the time. His wife loved him, but he just fell out of love with her, as is happens sometimes. As depressed as he was when we knew each other, I knew him like I knew nobody else. When he would occasionally smile at me or just at anything, it made my stomach do backflips.
Before I met him, I was like him when I knew him, depressed. I had no one in life. I only had my parents, who were not very supportive of anything I did. I did love them, and they loved me, but they seemed to busy at work to care about me. I was 24 years old and it seemed as if no one wanted me. I had never had a real love or any friends. Music was my getaway, and The Monkees were always my favorite. Mike made me feel like I was on top of the world even though he showed nothing towards me that showed love or affection. I was like a therapist, in a sense, even though it didn't feel as if it was that way at the time.
On the drive home, I thought that there was a possibility that he felt the same and was just too shy to tell me. He'd probably call me and apologize, then tell me he loved me. He'd divorce his wife (as much as I always loved Phyllis, even though I never met her) and we would live happily ever after. That was what I kept telling myself as I drove home.
Before long, I got my life back together. I moved to New York to get away from all the madness, and I changed my name, too. It was a new beginning, as it seemed. I still loved Michael, as I always would.

Mike's POV:

"Michael, I love you." She suddenly blurted out.

I was caught by surprise at her words. I had no idea what to say. I knew I had to face it and say something, but I just turned away. She must be asking why I did that. What was I to do? What can you do when a love affair is over?
I knew it was over when it took me too long to respond. I didn't know it at the time, but I did love her. I feel like the worst man in the world for not realizing that I loved her more than anyone and anything. She was so full of life, and yet I was just using her to somehow find solutions to my own problems. She told me she loved me so sincerely, even though it was said quickly.
So, now she's gone away and I'm alone with the memory of her last look. Vague and drawn and sad, I see it still all the heartache in that last look. I miss her, but it's too late. It's been years since she left. I thought of calling her or going over to her house that first month after she left, but I was too late. I went there, and someone new was there. She either moved away, or something had happened to her. Her name was no longer in the phone book when I bought a newer one. I prayed that she was alive and well, and with someone better than I. She deserved it, and I didn't. She loved me, and I loved her, but I didn't know it at the time.

What was I to say? What can you say when a love affair is over?

✿°.•ꦿ•.°✿

A/N: Please listen to the song How Insensitive by The Monkees. I personally believe it is their most underrated and most beautiful song they ever made.
Anyways, I really hope you enjoyed this because I personally believe this is my best writing I have ever done. It surprisingly didn't take long, but I have had this idea in my head for quite a while. Peace and love ✌🏻🤎