Revelations » Michael Langdon

3

❝ I got a feeling I might have lit the very fuse that you were trying not to light. ❞

Knee Socks by Arctic Monkeys

✢

Michael wasn't in his bed when I groggily stirred awake to sunlight filtering through the white window panes.

Blinking in confusion at the empty mattress, I indulged in the petty thought that Cordelia came to her senses and rid me of my know-it-all roommate. Maybe he was sleeping on one of the lounge chairs downstairs right now, until proper rooming accommodations were arranged for him. Or better yet, the Hawthorne boys hightailed it out of our sanctuary after the realization that they'd never be able to keep up with the Coven's magic practices.

I entertained the fantasies throughout my morning routine and they filled me with a giddiness that I, deep down, knew would eventually be shattered. But I was going to have to get my kicks wherever I could these days, it seemed.

After I finished with the bathroom facilities and dressed myself in casual-wear of light-wash denim jeans, a white lace tank, and a soft black cardigan, I crept along the quiet hallways in pursuit of the kitchen.

Typically, I was the only one awake at this hour. Candice would occasionally poke fun at my inability to sleep in–she, in contrast, always preferred to make an appearance around eleven in the morning. I used to be the same way, back when I lived with my biological mother, during weekends and breaks from school. It wasn't out of laziness, though; I simply tried to sleep, or pretend to, for as long as possible with the main goal of avoiding the alcoholic in the house. I'd burrow myself deep into my covers, eyes perpetually squeezed shut, and hoped that sleep would take me somewhere far away.

Now, in the academy, things were different. I looked forward to my days here, no longer a victim of the shittiness the universe had previously thrust upon me. It was worth waking up early, to soak up every moment of the calm mornings in the kitchen with a book, or some notes on prior lessons, or even an episode or two of my favorite shows. I wanted to experience as much of my days as I could, never interested in wasting a moment sleeping. Why should I, when I had nothing to escape from anymore?

Or, so I thought, the additional comment was said snidely in my mind, as I froze in the kitchen doorway to see someone already occupying my usual spot by the window. Poring over a grimoire, while eating a bowl of cereal. Cinnamon Toast Crunch, to be exact–my cereal.

"Good morning," Michael said without looking up, his mouth curving. He's dressed in his pajamas still, though his hair is combed, no signs of sleep-induced unruliness.

I stalked over wordlessly, grabbing the box of cereal and retreating to the cabinets to get my own bowl.

"You're an early bird," he commented, that ever-present amusement sugaring his voice. "Look at that: something we have in common."

I shook the cereal box to empty a generous amount of its contents into my bowl, topped it off with milk, and took a spoon from the utensils drawer. It was generally a menial task that would take me all of thirty seconds but now, I dragged out every detail–from closing the box tabs of the cereal to capping the milk gallon securely.  All distractions to stray my attention from the warlock a few feet away.

So, Michael was a morning person. There went my routine bubbles of peace and quiet that I took solace in every day.

The academy could quickly turn into a hectic environment, which is why I valued these moments to myself in waking hours. Not that I didn't love my female companions, Candice especially (and Madison, grudgingly), but sue a girl for occasionally needing to be alone and reflect before being bombarded with lessons and discussions of our futures in witchcraft.