𝐌𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐍𝐞𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬

✿︎ 𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐢𝐭 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐌𝐞 ✿︎ (1)

Part 1
─┈▨⃟⁕✺⃟ ݆݅༞ ✿°.•ꦿ•.°✿ ݆݅༞✺⃟⁕▨⃟┈─

─┈▨⃟⁕✺⃟ ݆݅༞ ✿°.•ꦿ•.°✿ ݆݅༞✺⃟⁕▨⃟┈─

"Mike, when are you coming home?" I asked my long-term boyfriend on the phone. He was currently on tour with The Monkees, the last tour. He was supposed to be gone for about 2 months, and that 2 months was almost up.

"Soon, angel. You know we only have 2 weeks left until I come home. I miss you so much." He told me on the other side of the phone, making my face light up.
The reason I asked this question was valid. The more and more we talked, the less convinced I got that he was having a good time on tour. He kept telling me otherwise, and would tell me he loved me a million times each time we talked.
"I'll talk to you later, okay angel? I love you."

"I love you too, Mike." I hung up the phone, smiling to myself. He always made me so happy, and I could hardly wait for him to come through the door.

The two weeks went by extremely slow, as it seemed as if Mike had been gone for years. I called him the night before he was due to come home, which seemed a bit on the strange side. He seemed to be rushing through our entire conversation, which only lasted a good 12 minutes. We would normally talk for a half hour up to three hours on end, which didn't happen this time. I suspected it was because he had to get his things ready to arrive home, but he also forbade me from coming to the airport to greet him.
"Y/N, I just want you to know that no matter what, I'll always love you." Was the last thing he said to me before hanging up.
The day finally arrived that Mike was supposed to come home. He told me the night before his plane came in at 6 PM. So, I waited and waited. My eyes were on the clock every second of the day until 6 PM finally arrived. Still, I watched the door and it didn't move. I kept glancing at the clock, suspecting that he was caught in traffic or something similar. 6 PM had come and gone, and it was quarter to 7 by now. I was starting to get very nervous. What if something happened to him? What if the plane crashed? Is he alive? Is he on his way home? Even though I was not expecting an answer from either of them, I decided to call Micky and Davy (A/N: This takes place in 1969, after Peter left). First, I called Micky. It rang four times before there was an answer, something I was not expecting.

"Hello?" He asked.

"Hello, Micky? This is Y/N. I was just wondering if you had any idea where Mike was?"

"I'm sorry, but I don't know. Right when we landed he told us he was quitting the group. He isn't home yet?" He sounded concerned.

"No, he isn't. He quit the band? Why did he do that?"

"I don't know, he didn't tell us. He just told us he was leaving and wanted to start a new chapter of his life."

By the way Micky worded this, it sounded as if he was leaving me behind, too. I could hardly believe what I was hearing from him. A single tear dripped down my cheek, as I was so upset by what Micky told me. I told him thank you and goodbye, then hung up.
I had a feeling that something was about to go wrong. Mike suddenly quits the Monkees and he is an hour late. I sat down and tried to convince myself that he was just stuck in traffic and he would be home soon. I waited, watching the door and the clock closely for a few hours, but he never came back. I soon decided to go to sleep, hoping that I would wake up with Mike beside me. That didn't happen, either.
It was so hard to sleep, as I was so worried about Mike. I knew his leaving was intended to be on purpose, but I thought, why? That was my biggest question.
The next morning, I was still wide awake, not getting a wink of sleep. I missed Mike and was worried about him. I was also mad at him for leaving me, and if he actually didn't, I was mad at him for making me so worried about him. I continued to think that he would soon return to me and things would go back to normal, but no.

Months had passed and there was still no sign of Mike. I would occasionally talk to Micky and Davy, who soon broke up the Monkees after releasing their last album, Changes. They told me that Mike had called them a few times, and I told them to tell him I missed him and was still in love with him. They told me they would, but when they did end up telling him, he would just hang up the phone.
Soon enough, I went to a record store and saw an album titled "Magnetic South" with Mike's name on the cover, along with a band called The First National Band. I bought it and listened to it as soon as I got home. I cried through the entire thing, even though some of the songs were not sad. I missed my love so much I couldn't bear it.
For the next few months, I stayed in my room, depressed, and listened to that record over and over again. I looked over at my nightstand and saw the photo of Mike and I on the set of The Monkees only two weeks after we had met. I also bought Mike's next album, titled "Loose Salute" when it was released.

As the months started turning into a year, I decided I had to do something with my life other than staying in my room and crying over Mike. I decided to go to college and start an acting career, which I soon did. I started college the following year in 1972, finishing in 1976. Since Mike was also an actor, I kept my eyes and ears out to see if he was working on any films or anything. As much as my life has gotten better, I still missed Mike just as much. I continued to buy his albums whenever he released a newer one.
Of course, I still loved him. I had mixed feelings about the whole situation. Why did he leave if he loved me so much? I was still angry at him, but I forgave him a long, long time ago.
He will always and forever be my Michael.