Morphine

Chapter Eight

"Do you-?"

"Can we-?"

Malcolm and Marceline Anne spoke at the same time. Both blushed and he gestured for her to go first.

"Um... I was just going to ask if you wanted to have lunch again tomorrow?" Her voice grew quieter as she tried not to fall out.

He nodded. "I'd like that."

"What were you going to say?"

"I wanted to know if we could hang out later."

"Today?" She raised a brow. He nodded. "Yes. I can't give you a ride-"

"That's okay. Michael usually brings me and Madeline home. I can walk around the corner."

She frowned. "Huh?"

He realized she didn't know where he lived. "We live on Pear Ave."

Her eyes widened and she blinked rapidly. "Wow."

"Yeah. What time can I come over?"

"Will you be able to come at six fifteen?"

He nodded. "Can do."

"Okay." She stood there for a second before poking his belly with a blush and walking away. "Bye."

"See you later." He watched her go to a stairwell and disappear. He'd missed his class but it was worth it. Now he had to go to his locker before heading to the school library for his online class.

He began whistling as he went to a different stairwell. Today was a good day.

M-

Michael the Fourth gazed at his page unseeingly.

His best friend, Artie Abrams bumped his arm. He leaned over to whisper, "Hey? What's wrong?"

Michael came to. "Huh? What?"

"You look like you've seen a ghost. What's going on?"

Michael said nothing as he pushed his notebook over to him.

Artie took a quick glance at the page. "You know I can't read Japanese."

"It's a poem." Michael blushed.

"You copied down a Japanese poem?" Artie was confused.

"No." Michael's blush darkened.

Artie adjusted his glasses. "Are you saying you wrote a poem?"

"Thanks for being so loud!" Michael hissed.

"It's 2018. A guy can write poetry." Artie smirked.

Michael was still embarrassed.

"Come on. What's it say?"

Michael recited it quietly.

Artie's mouth fell open. "Who is that about?!"

"Nobody." Michael felt guilty for the lie.

"You don't write poetry like that without a muse. Besides you're describing somebody. "Eyes like the sweetest chocolate with flecks of shimmering gold"? Somebody's sprung and it's you."

Michael blushed. "I met a girl."

Artie chortled and rubbed his hands together quickly. "What's her name? What's she look like? Does she have a friend?"

Michael smiled. "Her name is Mercedes Catherine Taylor-Jones and she's beautiful. We never talked about friends but I could ask her."

"Mercedes Catherine? She's in my choir class. Girl's got a heavenly voice. I fall in love every time she opens her mouth."