October.
"You- you what?" I tried to speak louder, but I couldn't hear my voice.
It was just like when my mother had told me that I was going to Harvard. How my heart dropped to my gut at the realization that she signed me up for something I wasn't capable of - how she stripped me of all of my choices and ambitions.
And now, my best friend, my rock had turned against everything that I have ever told him.
"I- When we were talking in your room, I left and I-ah, bumped into your dad," Michael scratched the back of his neck, before fiddling with my fingers with his own - something he did when he knew I would be mad, and didn't want me to.
"And we talked about your future and stuff, and how - m-maybe something might go wrong. I mean-" he shifted in his seat, so his knees were towards me, and I scooted back, distancing myself from him as he sighed. "Aren't there things you want to do, Tobe? I mean- you work in a coffee shop in Manhattan. That's the farthest your life has ever gone, really."
"Stop," I shook my head slowly, pushing myself off the bed and striding towards the Wall of Feelings that Luke had made for me.
"This is exactly what I was afraid would happen!" I bellowed as Michael flinched, pointing my finger towards him in an accusing matter.
"And- and what about you? What good have you done, huh?" I ask him, and he stands up from my mattress as well, a pained look on his face.
"Tobe, I went to Adelphi University, all the over in Garden City. I started college at sixteen, October. I started early, because my parents encouraged me to."
"They made you. No way in hell would you agree to go to college at sixteen."
His face dropped into a frown, and I immediately regret the words that slipped from my mouth. "Michael, I-"
"Tobe, some people are capable of doing things because they choose to. I chose to go to college at a young age, because I knew what I would've been capable of in the future." Michael spoke sternly, and I could tell he was getting impatient and angry as I bit my bottom lip to hide my small embarrassment.
I drop my head down as the feeling in my heart only grew - Michael had been planning my future behind my back, along with both of my parents going along with his little plan. "What did you major in?" I asked meekly, feeling the unhelpful tears building up around my eyes.
"Biology," he replied awkwardly, taking slow steps towards me, as if he was afraid I was going to blow up. "I-ah, I've always had an interest in organisms and living things, ever since sixth grade." Michael chuckled, then took another step forward.
I let his words sink in, as I hastily wipe the tear that slid down my cheek with the coat I had on. "I don't-"
"Look, I know it's all up to you, Tobe. It always has been from the beginning. Not your parents, me, just you. But I just don't want you to sit in your deathbed, wishing you would've continued your ambitions. Okay? No regrets, remember? And if even if you didn't completely fulfill those ambitions, well hey, at least you tried, right?"
By now, I was full on crying, as his words hit me like a train and I watched Michael stretch his arms out to his sides, and I run into them, sobbing on his dark shirt.
And then, I realized I was at my weakest. I did have nothing to do with my life. I had nothing to live by; all I really am is a stupid, naive girl who worked in a cliché coffee shop who was too lazy to pick her feet up and live her dreams that contained art.
I was nothing. And now was the only time that I realized it.
"Courtauld Institute of Art, Tobe; not Harvard, not Oxford, but art, and art only." Michael mumbled against my hair, stroking my back with his hand. "London. It's not too late now." I held onto his back tighter, burying my face on the right side of his chest. "It's never too late. But I think it'd be best to start now."
I pulled away from him, sniffling and wiping under my nose as I felt my eyes sting from the tears. "I'll- I don't know."
I watched as Michael's face dropped, taking more steps towards me. "October, I'm sorry-"
"No, don't," I put my hands in front of me, walking backwards towards his bedroom door. "I need time."
I waited for him to protest, but thankfully he just nodded, turning his back towards me as I watched him push his bottom lip between his teeth with his finger.
I took that as a dismissal, awkwardly making my way towards his apartment door and climbing into the elevator.
Michael and I hadn't talked much about his experience in college - in fact, we hadn't talked at all about his life in university, after I explained that talking about education was a bit of a downer for me. He never mentioned it since. He never talked about his aspiration and goals because of me.
Funny how I stood in this elevator not too long ago, feeling bright and happy, whereas now, I felt like my walls were breaking down, burying every other thing I had built inside of it.
'Courtauld Institute of Art, Tobe; not Harvard, not Oxford, but art, and art only.' Michael's voice rung in my mind repetitively, and I felt like the walls of the elevator were closing in on me.
This is it, October, my mind assured me, not only are you finally going to college, but you will be doing the thing you've wanted to do your whole life. Why would you give it all up now?
"Why give it all up now?" I whispered to myself, clenching and unclenching my fists next to me. I gasped lightly as the elevator door dinged open, but I just stood there, staring at the elevator's buttons, and the streets of Manhattan outside the apartment building's door.
Ambitions. Regrets. Dreams. London. Michael. Mom. Dad. Fear.
"You're not going to give up, Tobe." I stated, the corner of my lips pulling upwards as I press the button marked '5', the elevator's doors closing once more and hoping that Michael was still in his room with those papers still on his desk for me to read over. "You've been giving up this whole time, and you will stop now."
And as I stepped out onto level five's hallway floor I hadn't realized that, little did I know that a certain promise was about to be broken.
I knock on his apartment door twice, my foot tapping against the carpet nervously, as I heard the locks click, revealing a sad looking Michael, wiping his nose with his sweater paw. He had been crying too. "Tobe? What're you still doing here?"
"You must have a lot of college memories, yeah?" I chuckle lightly, more at the fact that we looked like to idiots - one with a college degree and another with a stubborn mind.
But not anymore.
"I was just wondering whether or not you still have those papers about Courtauld Institute." I mumble quietly, peeping at him from my lashes and watching his lip tug up on one corner.
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god damnit
