Chicago (City Trilogy 1)

Chapter Twenty Four : Plagued Mind

Chapter Twenty Four

After the date, Michael dropped me off at my house and, like a gentleman, walked me to my door to give me a goodnight kiss. It was short and simple, unhurried and gentle. I had watched him walk back to his car, waving slightly as he got in. He had waved back and waited for me to get inside before pulling away, even though he only lived across the street.

All of a sudden, a wave of exhaustion washed over me as I began to trudge upstairs to my bedroom. I quickly had shed my clothes, tossing them to the hamper for dirty clothes, then went to my bathroom to shower and get ready for bed.

Showered, deoderized, and pajama-clad, I exited my bathroom to go to bed. I had jumped in bed and turned off my lights. Just as I began to fall asleep, I heard my window slide open.

Of course, at this point, I was nearly unconscious and didn't realize that someone could've been trying to break into my house. However, when I felt my bed dip behind me and a warm presence against my back, I sprang up and ran to turn on the lights.

Lying down in my bed was a tired Michael, adorned with red, puffy, and watery eyes.

"Michael," I said. "What are you doing here?"   

He shrugged and sat up as I walked back to sit on the bed Indian-Style. "I don't know...I just wanted to come over."

I laughed lightly. "You just saw me an hour ago."

"I know," He continued. "But I missed you."

I went across the room to turn the lights back off and laid back down in my bed. Michael was still sitting up, however, and I looked up at him. "Lay down, Mikey."

Michael did as I said then proceeded to kick his shoes off the edge of the mattress. I turned to face him and he did the same to me. We laid like that, just watching each other, for a while, though I'm not sure how long. I reached up and gently ran my fingers over his cheekbone, watching intently as his eyes closed and his brows furrowed.

"What's wrong, Michael?"

A few silent tears escaped his long dark lashes, and he pulled me into him. I let him hold me, waiting for him to let go of his pain through his tears. I gently scratched his scalp, humming an unknown tune as I tried to provide comfort.

I had noticed over the past few months that Michael tended to show his emotions more than most guys liked to admit. Granted, I hadn't been close to a lot of non-ballet dancing boys, so maybe it was a normal amount.

Either way, I intended to find out what plagued his mind.