creole ➸ [michael au]

November 22, 2015

New Orleans.

The lights shone  almost as fiercely as my stomach rumbling when my friends and I roamed around the city in search of a diner that would actually let us in.

"We've literally seen that building like twelve thousand times." Wendy, who always had the habit of pushing her hair back when she was frustrated, whined. She had her blonde hair at her shoulders since grade school, but it was until last year when I found out that she usually donated it every summer.

"Who would want you hooligans in their restaurant, anyway?" Marco, one of the few people who no one really invites to things, but they usually tag along regardless. It's not like we were complaining; His only perk was that he was Cuban.

"Obviously, someone who wants to have fun." I announced, my fist balled up and almost as erect as when Marco finds out that there is free Gumbo.

"Let's eat some Cajun food?" Rebecca, the new girl from California with the fierce maroon hair that I literally forced my way to being her friend.

"Be more specific, I honestly have Cajun running in my bloodstream. Quit being a foreigner." I patted her back, before pulling her into the subway.

Just as the world seemed to become smaller, we were in front of Tino's, which, for some reason, was pronounced as Chino's, and I was not surprised. We barged in and sat at the same table we always went to and by the hit of midnight, our po'boys were serviced and dressed to our liking.

I'm not kidding when I tell you that we lived at Tino's. I occasionally held shifts because it was easy money and I knew more about the business than the owner himself.

"We have classes tomorrow." And at that moment, our sandwiches were done but our frowns remained.

"Nobody asked, Rebb-it." Calum, the kid who gave me my first cigarette and I, his first blowjob, scowled. I never understood his reasoning behind that nickname, but apparently the pigtails Rebecca usually wore made her look like a playboy bunny. She was into Daddy dominance, what can I say?

"That means we have to be at Uni in an hour so we can be rested for finals." Rebecca mumbled as she dabbed her mouth with her napkin. 

And, we did leave. Of course, as I was trying to relax for a few hours, my mind was racing and I couldn't focus on remaining in one position for long.  I was outside, again. The autumn wind was light, but I could sense rain to fall at the crack of dawn.  I jogged in nothing but pajama bottoms and a light blue tank top.

Why? I'm not sure.

By the time I wanted to stop, I was by the University's entrance. I leaned on the tall sign that read 'Louisiana State University,' which I probably have seen since I was six years old. I sighed as my brown hair danced along with the light breeze, yet I was soon alarmed when I heard a faint cough to my left.

I glanced over and saw him standing there, a cigarette lit and planted between his pink lips. The end of the cigarette was black, which resembled his dark hair. He took a long drag of his cigarette, sighed, drew his head back against the sign. I shook my head, "You do know that that's going to kill you, right?"

"What?" His voice was low, and his accent was obviously thicker than our people in Louisiana. I narrowed my eyes and pointed, "That. The cigarette's going to kill you?"

"I don't think I asked, mate." He sneered. "I'm trying to warn you, mate." I crossed my arms and scoffed, "What a dick."

"What are you smoking for, anyway?" I honestly didn't know why I was still trying to converse with this man.

He ignored me the first time, which wasn't surprising. He seemed so pretentious, like we're in Louisiana.  Your pants are probably covered in powered sugar and you have a collection of bead necklaces; No one is superior 'round here.

I scoffed again, before jogging back to my dorm room.

• . •

"Definitely, Scott is out to get you, Alice." Wendy announced as I threw my pillowcase at her. She giggled, before continuing to file her unnecessarily perfect nails. "You don't think so?"

"No," I mumbled, I could careless. "I've seen these four walls all day, can we do something else, please?"

"We can go to Tino's?" She set forth, but I shook my head. "We always go there." I glanced around the room, "Where's Calum?"

I asked, yet I knew exactly where he was. Wendy grabbed her grey jacket, which she only wore when she didn't like her confident self, and we walked the same route I took yesterday. We saw him from a far; The blond streaks resting on his Mohawk with his six foot frame wasn't exactly easy to miss. We ran up to him, and to my dismay, the same asshole was there.

"Hey, Cal-pal," Wendy shoved him from behind, making him drop his cigarette. He groaned at the both of us, before turning to the Dick, "Michael, mind giving me another one."

Michael, as it seems, pulled a cigarette out and handed it to him. I drew a breath, preparing myself for the lecture for Calum, but he stopped me to it.

"You're wasting your breath, babes." He shrugged, "Nothing will make me give up smoking?"

"Are these your broads?" Michael asked, eying Wendy and I down. Wendy scoffed, "He wishes. Calum could barely pleasure himself, how could he have two girlfriends?"

"Actually, I'm pretty sure that no one complained when—"

"Nobody asked." Wendy turned to Michael, "Who's this?"

"Michael, we've been friends since I've lived in Australia, he recently came here to visit." Calum explained, "Remember those gigs in Sydney? Time went by so quick."

Michael just nodded. He didn't say much, and he always seemed deep in thought. We were out there for almost half an hour before Wendy and Calum decided that she didn't appreciate the mosquitos nibbling on skin. In other words, Calum's cigarette got him excited and Wendy just happened to be there to help him out.

I remained outside, watching Michael smoke, again. "Why do you hate cigarettes so much?" His voice was deep and unused, yet demanding with every syllable.

"It kills." I responded along with a shrug of my shoulder. "Grow up, will you?" He snarled, dropping his cigarette on the floor, yet I just shook my head at him.

"That's where you're wrong. I'm already dead, the cigarettes are what's making me feel alive."

• — • —

(Author's note)
I hope you're happy and you know whatever's stressing you out will pass.