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"Michael?" I whispered into the dark room, both of us tangled up in the sheets of his bed. I was staring at the ceiling with my eyes wide, the farthest thing from tired, but Michael had been silent for the past hour. "Michael?" I repeated, and he shifted slightly but he was rolled over onto his side, leaving me wondering if I had woken him up or not.
After another 30 seconds of silence, I clutched the bed sheet close to my chest and leaned over to gently shake him awake. He let out a muffled groan, but turned over so that he was facing me. Both of his arms were under his pillow and he removed one to wipe the sleep from his eyes.
Michael's hair was sticking up in all different angles and he buried his head into the pillow just as I managed to get out an awkward, "Hey."
He sleepily turned his head to look at me, his chapped lips were turned into a frown and his squinting eyes wouldn't break contact with mine. I ended up looking away first, not wanting him to read the expression on my face. He slowly brought my gaze back to his as his pale fingers brushed along my jawline. "What's wrong?"
"Why do you assume something's wrong? Maybe I just can't sleep," I switched from my side to my back so that I didn't have to meet his concerned eyes. I nervously picked at my fingernails, silently hoping he'd turn back over and fall asleep.
"Because I've known you since we were in primary school." He scoffed, and propped himself up on his right elbow to get a better look at me. I quickly shifted over to my other side, trying to hide. I felt Michael scoot closer to me, moving his arm under mine so that his hand was rested on my tummy. He pressed himself against my backside and rested his chin in the crook of my neck. "Just tell me."
I let out a tiny breath of air before giving Michael my attention. I wrapped my arm over his chest and bent my leg so that it was around his abdomen. I buried my face into the hallow of his neck, shaking my head slightly to tell him that I had no intentions of replying.
Michael began to draw aimless shapes onto my back, just like he had done since the first night I had a slept over at his house. When I was six It was the only thing that could get me to sleep and overcome my horrible homesickness, even though I could see my house through his bedroom window. "Are you feeling okay?"
I shook my head no, "It hurts," I mumbled, secretly hoping he wouldn't hear me if I muffled my voice enough.
Michael froze, his fingers stopped tracing silly abstracts and the steady breathing motion of his chest halted.
Both of Michael's hands gently grasped the sides of my face, guiding my attention towards him. His fingers immediately went to push the hair from my eyes, and his thumb repeatedly brushed across my cheek. "How bad?" I shrugged my shoulders, trying to play it off but I could tell that he wasn't buying it. "Tell me."
