He told me he loved me.
I remember that day like it was yesterday.
We were at his house, on his couch watching television. Nothing special about that day, except everyday spent with him was special to me. How I met your mother was on and I laughed at a joke, when he just shook his head with a shy smile. I glanced up at him through heavy lids, sleepy from a lazy day spent in his arms.
"What? Barney's my favorite."
He buried his face in my hair, trying to stop his sudden fit of giggles and I couldn't help but giggle as well.
"What's so funny, Lukey?"
He stopped with his face still pressed into my hair, muttering three words that made my heart race, stop, and skip a beat all at the same time.
"Nothin', it's just crazy how much I love you."
It was so beautiful. So out of the blue. And I knew when he said it, I felt the same way. How could I not? Someone who could love me when my hair was a mess, my clothes were days old, and my face was free of makeup, deserves all the love I could give him.
That was until the fight.
All of the reasons I love him seemed to completely fade from my mind as we exchanged cruel words in a heated argument. I don't really remember what the fight was about now, to be quite honest. All I remember is feeling my entire world come crashing down on my when he said those three words. And no, not the three I was accustomed too.
"Just get out."
Get out? How could I just 'get out'? He was my everything for so long I didn't know how to function without him. He was my oxygen, my home. And although I knew this, even in the midst of our fight, I still let my pride get in the way.
"My pleasure."
I'd hissed those words so menacingly. I could see how his expression twisted with shock and grief when my answer hit him.
I grabbed a handful of my belongings, my car keys, and slipped into my shoes. He started to say something, possibly apologize or realize we are both being completely ridiculous, but I slammed the front door in his face before he can get another sentence out.
-x-x-
It's been two months. Two months of tear smeared pillowcases, week old clothes, and sappy rom-coms. Two months of heartbreak, swollen cheeks, and self hatred.
Two months of missing him.
But I got a call. Before I even checked the called ID, by stomach was doing backflips in the hopes that I would hear his sweet voice through the speaker.
"Y/n?"
"Michael?"
My voice sounds strained and hoarse. Although I'm a little disappointed Luke didn't call, I'm also relieved to know my friend is checking on me. I hear a sigh from the colored haired boy on the other end of the line.
"Yeah. It's me."
"Oh, hi."
"How have you been?"
"Uh, I'm doing alright."
Lie. The biggest lie I've ever told. Michael knows it too.
"No you're not. You sound like you smoke five packs a day. Look, there's something we have to show you. Can you come to my house in about an hour?"
