Thanks For The Memories

Uma Thurman

"Hey Mikes" I smile a bit at him, but really just feel like I kicked a puppy. He's looking up at me with soft eyes, seeing through every part of me, breaking me down to who I really am inside. "Im...I'm sorry..." that couldn't have been said worse. I'm a fucking idiot. I was trying to let the good times roll, have perfect words to make things right, but clearly I'm incapable. Normally I'm so good with English, but with Mikey, I feel like I'm just learning how to speak sometimes.

Mikey shrugs, a sharp jolt at his shoulders. He takes his cigarette between two fingers and pulls it out of his mouth, grey smoke chasing after it. "Don't be. I mean I know we're not really... exclusive... but I don't need it rubbed in my face either"

I wince a little like his words caused actual pain, well they kinda did. I began to learn the little tells on Mikey's face and he's a little pissed and mostly upset. "I know... I know we're not really, ya know, but I still feel shitty about it" as I should feel, from what I remember Mikey was at that party. I totally disregarded the best part of my life right now out of a drunken haze.

"Yeah well..." he looks down and kicks the gravel at his feet. I watch his lips, it seems as if there's words there that want to slide out but can't. His fingers delicately hold the white stick of nicotine and he just flicks it onto the ground, done with it before it was all the way burnt out.

I tilt his chin up in a cliché way, just to look at him. The setting afternoon sun makes his cheeks glow, his lips are parted and chapped, his eyes have a glint of sadness. It could've been all the cough medicine I've taken this morning, but I think I'm falling in love again. Which means I'm going to be the best and worst thing that's ever happened to Mikeyway. It's an addicting feeling though. The way I feel when I think of him is like a drug, and I'm so fucking hooked on it.

A knot forms in my stomach and I begin to feel panicked. Like I need to run away, but I need Mikey by my side. "Let's run away together" I suggest. No real context. No detailed ideas. I just want to run away with him. Leave the world behind and stay in this time, this feeling, forever. I actually consider it too, just never coming back. Patrick would be worried, the guys would be pissed, but they can find another bassist for Fall Out Boy. But in my situation, there is only one bassist in the entire world that I need.

Mikey smiles a bit at the corners of his lips. "Yeah. Let's." he gets it. He just fucking gets it and I feel an overwhelming feeling of joy because of it. He gives me that feeling that he created the sun out in a tool shed and hung it up just for me. I hope everyone can feel this way some day, because I actually feel like I have a place in the world. Like I'm not a ticking time bomb watching the sky fall to pieces.

It didn't take long to find Dirty, sitting in a camp chair with a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other, and bribe him with easy summer one night stands to get his car."Just don't make a mess, Wentz." Dirty says in his deep, burly voice, putting down his liquor and he tosses the keys into my hand.

"Dawh, thanks buddy ol' pal" I try to go in for a hug but he pushes his hand out to stop me. I just smile and turn to Mikey. "Shotgun!" I call tossing the keys to him. He's stunned for a moment but catches the keys and heads to the front seat.

"Hang on" I wait for him to pause from starting the car to look at me. "Stay here. Don't go anywhere. I'll be right back." With that, I'm jumping out of the car and going on a full out sprint back to my bus. Why I thought sprinting, or any running for that matter, was a good idea is beyond me. By the time I get to the bus, my lungs are on fire and I have to brace against the hot metal of the bus' outer core to catch my breath. Mikey. Okay I had a mission. I punch in my bus code and hop up the stairs, no one's home so I don't need to explain my actions thankfully. I grab a six pack of coke and jog, (slowly in order to not shake the carbonated drinks), back to the car. "Now," I say panting a little as I slide back into the car "I may not know much about classic cars, but I got classic Coke and that's pretty good"