Way Back When- lrh

Eight

CHAPTER EIGHT

Song of the chapter: With Me by Sum 41

I rolled over in on my bed as I switched off my phone. I had gotten back from work about half an hour ago and somehow, I was already bored to death. My phone told me that it was only four o'clock, meaning that it was still early enough to go do something.

With that thought in my head, I unlocked my phone once again and texted Michael: 'Hey, you busy?'.

Within ten seconds a new bubble popped up on my screen that read 'Nah, I'm just at home. Why?'. I didn't respond to the text, instead putting my phone and purse into my black bag and changing into some black pants and a classic Guns N' Roses t-shirt. I threw on my denim jacket and slid on my black combat boots before blowing out the candles I had been burning and walking down the stairs.

Upon realising I forgot my bag, I ran back up the stairs, wheezing when I reached the top, grabbing my bag and sliding quickly back down the stairs once more.

"Mum, I'm going out." I informed her as I passed the living room where she sat on the couch, staring at nothing absentmindedly.

"Have fun." I heard her mumble quietly, and to be honest, I was surprised she even acknowledged me.

It's not unusual to see her like this. She has good days and bad days; happy days and sad days. Given, she's never really been fully happy since it happened, just some days are harder than others. It's pretty much guaranteed that tomorrow's going to be an extremely hard day, she knows this so it's likely that her state now is her preparation for tomorrow.

I opened the garage door and retrieved my bicycle after putting on my helmet and chucking my bike lock into my bag. I was then able to embark on the short journey to Michael's house.

I arrived within a couple of minutes and took off my helmet, placing it on the handle bars before leaving my bike on it's stand at the bottom of the driveway as I walked to the front door, knocking in my usual rhythmic pattern and after a short wait, Michael opened it.

"Nice pj's." I complimented his 'stylish' grey long sleeve thermal and sponge bob boxers.

"Why thank you. They're Marc Jacobs." He joked.

"Isn't Marc Jacobs perfumes and shoes?" I questioned his knowledge and my own. Perfumes and shoes? Is that right?

"Don't know, don't care. Anyway, you didn't tell me you were coming over. I'd say I would've gotten changed had I known, but we both know that's a lie." I laughed at his confession.

"As much as I love your designer outfit, you need to get changed. We're going out." I informed him.

"Is that so?" Mikey questioned.

"Yes it is so go, go, go." I pushed him along.

"You can come in. My parents aren't home anyway." He referred to me still standing in the doorway. "Where are we going, by the way?"

"You'll find out soon enough." I told him as I followed him through his house.

"Then how am I supposed to know what to wear?"

"T-shirt, jeans, jacket, shoes." I suggested. "Look at what I'm wearing for inspiration."

"Okay, I think those rings will look especially nice on me." I looked down at my two feminine rings that had been passed down to me through generations of family on my mother's side and smiled at Michael, pushing him into his bedroom and closing the door after him.

"Get changed." I yelled through the wooden door separating us.

"I am, I am."

As I waited, I wandered down the hallway, inspecting all the pictures that hung up along the walls. Excluding the one picture of Michael's parents at their wedding, all the pictures were of Michael or featured Michael; he is an only child after all.