psych ➳ muke

17

| continuation of installment sixteen |

"I live in the Shady Hollow housing plant up West Elm, if I can get to the bus station on Carson in time, I'll be able to make it to the city faster," I say, crossing my feet at the ankle.

Michael giggles across the room, pulling his blanket up to his chin. The room is chilled from the blowing air conditioner, but we like it this way. Due to growing up in Sydney, we are accustomed to the heat - with hot summers and warm winters - so the cool breeze is quite relaxing.

"Do you know what time the buses come?" Michael questions, shifting his position.

Did I? It wasn't often that I used public transport. It was rare for me to venture from the house, let alone Shady Hollow.

"No, I don't think so, but the station has bus schedules. I can go and get one once I'm out."

The Carson Street Station was only a short walk - roughly a mile - from my home, I could go at anytime to collect a pamphlet.

"Have you been to Flo's?" He asks suddenly, rolling onto his side in my direction.

We had turned the light off upon entering, the only visible light coming in through the window - illuminating the room in a dull glow. I can make out his figure lying on the bed, his hair sticking up messily.

I smile, "Of course, hasn't everyone?"

Flo's is a local café designed for teens - labeled a safe "hang out" environment. It is a nice place, I had been a time or two back in high school when I still had friends. We would often meet there for study sessions during exams.

"We could meet there," he pipes up, "Once we work out the bus schedule. It's a halfway point between us."

From the brief description of the location of his town, I agree that it was a halfway point. Ten minutes from both of our houses.

"You can stalk my social media accounts - I'm cooler on the internet. Just look me up, okay? Michael Clifford."

I smile at the sound of his name - so wonderful in his vanilla sweet, thick Australian accent. I mutter his name a few times under my breath, loving the way it rolls off of my tongue. Michael giggles again, a little too loud, but the sound is so sweet that I don't quiet him. I feel I could listen to him laugh all day long - my favorite sound.

"I promise, I will. If you get out first though, you'll have to look me up, okay? Luke Hemmings. I'm just as lame on the internet."

He shifts again, pulling the blanket to just under his pretty eyes. I wish I could see then shimmer in this lighting. From the action, I know he's tired. We've had a long day and he always tugs the blanket up as he drifts off.

"Good night, Michael Clifford," I say quietly.

He's quiet for a moment and I think he's fallen asleep, but then a tiny voice mumbles out, "Good night, Luke Hemmings."

• • • • • • • • •

This smaller, filler fluff was written for several reasons.

1. As a small thank you for getting this story to 4K - you are all amazing. Thank you so much.

2. A bit of a Thanksgiving gift - to show how thankful I am for you all. You're the best!

3. A simply fluff chapter to make up for what's about to happen.

4. The conversation is very important regarding the rest of the story.

Love you all!

Thanks for all of your support. Means so much to me!

• Nevada •