|Humor Me| ::A Michael McIntyre Story::

::Chapter 1.10:: {A Day In Paris}

Michael McIntyre's POV:

I pressed my ear lightly to the large closed door of my dear friend who had been up vomiting during the night.

I felt terrible that he hadn't been well enough to be able to spend time with the two of us. He looked as terrible as he sounded.

After giving a small knock, as not to frighten him if he had been in a slumber, I slowly entered the room.

I quickly noted his physical appearance. His face was a sickly pale color, with messy sweaty hair, and lifeless eyes to match.

He had insisted that we carry on with our lives and not even bother to tend to him as he was a 'big boy' and could handle himself.

"How are ya feeling today mate?" I half whispered, adjusting the jacket to my casual suit attempting to gain comfort.

I had just gotten dressed, and was still adapting to my outfit I should be wearing for the entire day.

Juliet and I had been up late last night, playing snooker and watching the football game that was pre-recorded on her television.

It was a lovely time to spend with such a lovely person. We sat on the couch, eating popcorn, and drank a few beers.

It had solemnly reminded me of when Thomas and I would spend leisurely time together, only somehow more pleasant.

On any road, the last time I had glanced at the clock last night it had been about two thirty in the morning.

We had both woken up at around eleven thirty in the morning, realizing we had skipped breakfast hours of the day.

Needless to say we both ended up falling asleep in her rec room, causing me to wake up and find her head resting on my chest.

Among that her arm was wrapped around my waist and my arm had found it's way around her shoulders, while my head rested on top of hers.

If any stranger had seen us in this disposition predicament they would have sworn we were together.

It was the general idea of the matter that had caused my mind to really begin to think. Us... together...

Juliet and I together... a thing... dating... if that particular word could even have been counted. You could be 'together' without actually be 'dating.'She's very young however. I was eighteen when the girl was born. She's a child... and she was married.

She had been married before I had even really gotten a chance to meet my own wife... ex-wife... and she still IS a child.

She isn't even considered an adult yet...

"I can assure you I feel better than I look." he yawned, tossing over to lay on his other side. I watched his actions carefully.

"Well enough to go to lunch with us today?" I questioned, not bothering to near his body in fear of falling ill myself.

"Afraid not. Have a good time." he hadn't even cared to open his eyes once whilst speaking to me. It slightly made me irritated.

"Right well, I suppose I'll be seeing you later then." I gave a small wave and exited back into the hallway. I met her downstairs.

"Is he coming?" she interrogated as I walked down the stairs by my lonesome. I shook my head indicating a 'no.'

"Well then let's head out." she smiled, and walked to the front door. The exact second she opened it, there was an unfamiliar face standing there.

She had her fist up, as if she was about to knock but then quickly relinquished it when she saw Juliet on this side.

"Bonjour Juliet! Allez-vous quelque part? Oh mon dieu! Michael McIntyre est dans votre maison!" she exclaimed when she saw me.