November Dreams (M.C.)

Chapter Thirty-Eight

His warmth was something that I didn't know I missed until I was wrapped up so close to him that even the slightest chill from the nighttime air was completely wiped away by his radiating heat. His body was still shaken by light cries, his tears dripping down onto me ever now and then as they rolled down his neck.

I didn't want him to apologize, he didn't need to. All I wanted was him, here in the present. Everything that had happened in the past was just that: the past. Now, all I was concerned with was the future. Our future.

He inhaled suddenly, resting his chin on my head.

"I should've gone back for you that day."

I glanced up with him, my head still wedged between his chin and chest.

"What do you mean?"

"I could see you in my rearview mirror, there in the street. I could see you running after mer. I should have stopped; I should have gone to you right then and there and told you. I should have scooped you up out of the street and told you everything."

"Told me what, Michael?"

"How much you mean to me. How every day without you is a day that is wasted on being alive with nothing to live for. That I love you more than my own life and anything in it. And that I'll continue to love you, even when you don't love me back."

I wish he could know just how much I understood what he was saying. My life had lost all meaning when I was on my own. He was the thing that gave me light, that lifted me up and gave me a reason to see the good in the world. But without him, all the good and potential that I was once shown had faded, leaving me with a pulsating, black pit of despair and uncertainty.

But there was a small part of me that was still scared and a bit tentative about all of this. That part of me, however, was almost completely overtaken by his presence.

I silently prayed to myself that I would never remember the thing that caused me to leave him in the first place. I never wanted to remember the thing that had sent this wheel of hell into never ending motion. This process had been slow and crippling, but it was over now. We would heal together, grow together like we were meant to.

A small chill was sent through my body as the wind whipped up around us, flinging leaves and dust and the smells of nighttime into the air. The crowd around us had gone away, leaving just us and the bus filled with our friends.

Michael shifted behind me, pulling away slightly to look at me, but still not letting me go.

"Cold, love?"

His term of endearment made me blush, the heat creeping back up into my cheeks at his word.

"A little."

He stood, unwrapping me from his arms, but still gripping my hand tightly as he lead me over towards the bus. He led me up the steps, steadying me as I lost my balance a bit on the way up. His black locks were tousled by the air conditioning as he passed underneath it on the way towards our friends.

They gave us small looks that consisted of a mix of approval and happiness and gladness. I'm sure they could see the joy radiating from our faces as he wrapped his arms around me from the back and rested his head on his shoulder, but not before planting a light kiss to my temple.

The action was enough to bring the butterflies in my stomach back to life. I missed this feeling, this feeling of pure joy and lightness. With him, I felt like I was floating.

Luke was the first one to break the silence after we had been standing there for a few moments.

"Michael, I'm really sorry, I tired to tell you and I just—"

"Don't worry, Luke. Everything is okay now," he glanced down at me with a small smile tugging at his red lips.

They all smiled back at us as Luke relaxed a bit, the tense look melting from his face as Michael pardoned him. He threw his arm around Czara's waist and tugged her close to him, planting a giant kiss on her cheek. I was glad that she was happy and that now, I could be too. I was happy again.

I let out a wide yawn as the events of the day caught up with me finally.

Michael lifted his head slightly, his lips hovering so close to my ear that I could hear his lips disconnect from each other as they parted.

"Tired?"

I nodded, laying my head back against his shoulder, sleep beginning to set in.

He shuffled behind me, moving me with his body towards a secluded part of the bus.

"Where are we going?" I asked between yawns, my eyes drooping.

"Shh, baby. I'll show you," he kissed my temple again before stopping me at a closed curtain.

"What's this?"

He smiled and pulled the curtain back, revealing a very comfy looking bunk bed with Pokémon sheets.

He picked me up and pulled the blanket over me, but not before sliding in next to me. It was a tight fit for two of us, but our bodies melted together as he pulled me up to him, his arm under the pillow and the other around my waist.

I looked around the bunk a bit, realizing it was across from another bunk that read "shit bag" over it. That must be Luke's; that was Michael's old nickname for him back in the day. It was nice to see that some things hadn't changed. Then I looked around Michael's bunk. There were pictures pinned to the walls and ceilings, all scattered about in no particular pattern. It took me a moment to realize that they were all pictures of me. Some were of just me, and others were of me and him. These were pictures of all of our most treasured memories. It made me realize that though all of this, no matter the pain that it caused him to look at them, he still cherished all of our time together and memories we had created. He wanted to remember me, to be close to me. And now that I was here, I hoped that whatever happened, whatever came next, that he would never let me go.

His eyes fell on me, hooded and glazed over from a lack of sleep.

"I can't believe you're really here," he smiled, his had leaving my side to twist his fingers gingerly though my hair. His hand fell gently on my cheek as he stared at me with such longing in his eyes that the butterflies began to go wild.

"I'm really here," I whispered back to him.

He pulled me back in to him, the smile still playing across his features. We stayed like that in a comfortable silence until we both were taken by sleep's sweet surrender. But just before releasing ourselves completely, Michael whispered something silently in my ear, almost so low that I could barely make it out.

"I'm never letting you go," he said in a breathy whisper. He exhaled, a sign that sleep had conquered him.

Just as my eyes shut off and my brain pulled me into my dreams once more, I whispered back to him, unsure if he heard me. But I didn't care because I knew that whether he heard me say it or not, he knew.

"I love you, Michael."