And I tried to hide the feeling

A tree branch scratched along Mike's window, its spiky shadow hidden behind his plaid blue curtains. The shades and lines blended together as his brain swirled and ran. An idea formed in his head and words began to flow through his mind, rhythm gracing his ears.
Mike wasn't ready to write about their adventures yet but maybe he could write about something else that troubled him. Didn't all the healthy people swear by writing down your thoughts? He had time to kill, and he wasn't tired. When inspiration strikes you have to direct the lightning rod otherwise you're fried.
He squeezed himself between the boxes and his bed, his long legs spread across the floor. His back was pressed against the wall and he placed an old, mostly empty notebook from a long ago social studies class against his knee, his Ticonderoga poised over the first blank page.
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Byler modern au. Singer!Mike. It's a slow burn and going to end up being pretty angsty.