Insomniac

Sam

unedited

☽s.9☾

He didn't come by that night like he said he would, nor did he drop in the night after. It was on a Friday night, three days after I ran into him at CVS, and three weeks after he last showed, that Michael graced Sugar's Diner with his denim blue eyes and dark hair.

I'd be lying if I said I hadn't been near obsessively checking the door for his arrival. I didn't want to be so eager, but as that one dude said, "Absences makes the heart grow fonder" and all that jazz. Some absences more than others, considering Jeff had been "absent" for a while, and I didn't feel nearly as disappointed with that as I did with Michael's sporadic visits. There was probably something wrong with me I decided. I was more concerned with the whereabouts of some random sleep deprived boy than I was with the whereabouts of my sorta kinda boyfriend (because what was I supposed to call him? What was the proper name for our status? I had not the slightest clue).

The diner was empty, save for me. All others had cleared out around 10:30, about an hour ago. I perched on a stool behind the counter alone, and told myself I just wanted some peace and quiet to complete my homework, but secretly, or maybe not so secretly-- I was waiting for him. I had stayed till midnight last night and the night before in hopes that he'd pop in, and tonight unfortunately was no different (pathetic, bleh I know). I was still sitting and carrying on with my pointless homework charade when the bell tinkled signaling someone's arrival.

Someone being him, cause who else would show up to a diner at a quarter to midnight? Michael wore dark jeans that slung deliciously low on his hips, a navy blue t-shirt and a pair of converse. His hair was devastatingly disheveled and his reluctant grin was absolutely disarming. A girl could get high on his looks, and on his scent too I realized as he walked past me to his booth, with a quick, "Hi." I took a deep breath trying to calm myself, but this inhale only proved to further muddle my thoughts as all I did was inhale the distinct smell of mint, lavender and boy-- his smell.

"Hey," I replied pushing my books aside, and adjusting my ponytail behind my head.

That was it. All I knew how to say. I wanted to ask why he was MIA for the past few weeks, or why in God's name he was strolling into an establishment at this hour, but just like at CVS I sorta just clammed up and had no idea how to ask these things. So we just pretended that I wasn't curious, and that everything was normal, it was like an unspoken agreement.

"Come, sit up here will you? I don't feel like walking back and forth," I called. Booth seven was nestled all the way in the back of the diner adjacent to the restrooms and right next to a vintage jukebox. The jukebox was just for show considering it stopped working years ago. Now we used the radio, in all of it's staticy glory.

Taking his time he slide out of the booth and joined me at the counters. Upon closer inspection I saw the darkness under his big deep-set (watery) eyes, and the slight dusting of stubble on his chin. It made him look older, more tired, more worn. However, somehow, he was still heart-wrenchingly beautiful. He looked, sad yes, but he looked more sleepy than bone tired. And there was a difference between sleepy and tired. Sleepy was cute and yawning and dozing off, tired was eight shots of coffee and murder. Somehow I wasn't getting that vibe from him. All of this said, I couldn't help but wonder what such a beautiful boy had to worry about so hard that he couldn't get any sleep. Cause I mean, it was quite obvious. He seemed melancholic, conflicted, weary and worn, and I wished that I could make it-- whatever it was-- better. So, I did what I could. I made him his coffee just how he liked it, piping hot and dark, and the entire time I felt his eyes on me, hot and persistent.

After moments of silence I slid his mug across the expanse of white soapstone countertop, like an offering. May I interest you in a cup of coffee my good Sir in exchange for your secrets? Our fingers brushed lightly as he wrapped his warm fingers around the cup, and I felt my face heat embarassingly.