Fan Fiction ❯ Almost An Angel ❯ Enter: Michael ( Chapter 2 )

"Are you okay?" It was a pretty stupid question, considering what had just happened and how he had reacted, but it was the only thing that came to mind, and I felt that I had to say something.

"I'm fine, really. They didn't really hurt me or anything. It's just that I… I just get so tired of it sometimes." He whispered, sliding down against the wall until he was sitting on the dull grey concrete of the sidewalk, his arms wrapped tightly around his knees in front of him.

"Tired of what?" I asked, taking a step closer to him. Just a little one.

"Of everything. My job, my life, my family… Just everything!" he burst, his face flushing with anger. "Damn it! I don't want things to be like this. I never asked for any of this! Not any of it!" His head fell forward and he rested his face on his knees. His back started to shake; I was pretty sure that he was crying. My heart really went out to him. God only knows that I knew all too well just how he was feeling.

"Michael?" I asked hesitantly. He looked up at me, and I wasn't surprised to see tears streaming down his face. I knelt on the ground next to him and wiped away one of the tears with my thumb. "Do you wanna talk about it?" I offered, looking at him tenderly, making sure that my concern for him was plain on my face. I've never really been all that great at calming people down or being a shoulder to lean on, or stuff like that, but I was seriously trying my best.

Michael just kind of stared at me for a few seconds, then nodded slowly. "Maybe…"

I offered him a hand to help him up. Hesitantly, he reached out and grabbed it, and I hauled him to his feet. "Come on," I offered. "We can go to my place. My parents won't care if I bring over a guest. If they ask about you, I'll just tell them that the rest of our friends went to a party but we didn't feel like going, so I said you could crash at our house. No big deal, okay? They'll just be happy that I ditched a party to stay at home! And we don't even have to talk about what's bothering you, if you don't want to. We can just chill or something. Whatever you want."

He nodded, and we headed over towards my car. I noticed that we were still holding hands. He had smooth skin, almost like a girl's. He must use lotion. If not… Man, some people would kill to have skin that naturally soft and smooth! My mom and the older of my kid sisters would definitely be on that list.

Michael only let go of my hand long enough to go around to the passenger side of the car and get in once I unlocked the doors; the minute we were both inside, our hands found each other again. "Hey," I asked as I pulled out of the parking lot and out onto the road. "You need anything from your house?"

He paused, looking torn. "I… I don't want to go back there right now…" he stuttered, looking away nervously. "But I don't have clothes or a toothbrush or anything…"

"Don't worry about it. You can borrow some of my clothes, and I'm sure we've got an extra toothbrush in one of the bathrooms." I replied, squeezing his hand reassuringly. I think he blushed, but it was dark so I couldn't be sure.

A thought occurred to me as I was driving: things had just gotten complicated. I had thought I was going to make sure a schoolmate was okay after being attacked, and instead I had taken a nervous wreck onto my hands.

It looked like my night had just got even more interesting. I certainly wouldn't forget it any time soon, that much was for sure.

* * *

Ten minutes later we were at my house. I took Michael inside and introduced him to Mom and Dad, who were sitting in the living room watching TV. They didn't ask any questions, or say he couldn't stay the night, so I just took him upstairs to my room. I think Michael was relieved. I wonder what he expected?

"Hey, I think my parents might like you!" I grinned, sitting down on the edge of my bed and taking off my shoes. He just stood by the door looking out of place, so I patted the bed next to me. He noticed and walked over to sit down by me.

"That's cool." Michael said. He kicked his own shoes off, then dug his toes into the thick blue carpet. I felt bad that he seemed nervous.

"What is it?" I asked, wanting to make him feel more less uncomfortable.

"Ah… I was just wondering… If your parents know about you and James…" Well. Either that means we were obvious, or he'd overheard James dumping me. Or he was good at noticing those types of things, and was just making an educated guess. Whichever.

"You mean, do they know that I'm gay?"

"Yeah."

I shook my head. "No, not yet. I'm going to tell them eventually… But I'm still not ready." It never even occurred to me to not tell him the truth about my sexuality. I guess I just felt like I could trust him.

He nodded. "That's what I figured."

It got really quiet for a few minutes, and I started feeling weird again. Most of my other friends weren't exactly what you could call the quite type.

"I'm going to go take a quick shower." I announced. "If you need one too, there's another bathroom down the hall, two doors to the right, or there's also one in the guest room next door, which is through that door right there." I offered, nodding towards the opposite side of my room.

"Thanks." He replied, smiling a little. "What do I wear when I get out?"

"How about a towel?"

He blushed and looked away. From the way I've seen him act at school and stuff, I never though Michael would be the shy type. And waiters usually aren't shy. They can't be. They'd never survive. Maybe he's just shy around people he doesn't really know, but has to see on a regular basis during the day? Who knows.

"I'm just teasing." I said quickly, grinning. "You can dig through my dresser over there for something that'll fit you. Wear whatever you want." I walked over to said piece of furniture and grabbed a white muscle shirt and black boxers, then headed to my bathroom to clean up.

It was at least half an hour before I was done. I like long showers, they're relaxing. So sue me. Anyways, I got out, toweled off, got dressed, then headed into my bedroom. I'll admit that I was tempted to go out in just a towel, but since I'd taken my clothes with me, and he'd seen me take them, I didn't really have an excuse to walk out like that, so… Nix that idea. I could have kicked myself for not taking advantage of the situation and teasing him a little, but oh well…

I walked into my room and was met by an absolutely gorgeous sight. Michael was sitting on my bed, his pale skin contrasting beautifully with the dark blue blanket. He looked good in a pair of my dark green boxers and a black T-shirt, little drops of water running from his short honey-blonde hair and down that perfectly sculpted neck. I wanted to lick those little droplets of water off, but I could tell that even after cleaning up he still wasn't feeling too great, especially mentally, so I contented myself with just sitting down next to him. How daring of me, huh.

"So… You ready to talk yet?" I asked after we had just sat there in silence for a few minutes. I didn't want to press him or anything, but I could tell that something was really bothering him, and it always helps me feel better if I share my problems with someone else, even if it's just the little purple bear I keep hidden underneath my bed…

He just sighed and looked down, staring at the carpet again. He looked so cute and lost that I just wrapped one arm around him, giving him a comforting little squeeze. He didn't pull away or flinch, so I just let my hand rest on his arm, softly kneading the muscles. A little sigh escaped his lips, and his eyelids fluttered closed; he was enjoying it.

I took the silent hint and moved to where I was sitting behind him, then started to massage his back and shoulders. Man, talk about stressed! His muscles were harder than rock, poor guy!

"I don't know." he began suddenly. "My life is just really screwed up right now. Even more than usual." I stayed quiet, but continued to rub his back. "I don't know where to start…"

He was quiet for almost another five minutes; I could tell that he was really struggling with just what he was going to say. At least it gave me a chance to work some of the knots out of his muscles, if nothing else.

"Don't worry." I said softly. "I'm not going to repeat anything you say to me. I can keep a secret." He sighed, then started to talk, although slowly.

"My parents… They're the cause of all my problems. And I'm not just saying that; it's the truth. They really don't care about anything I do. Dad's never home, he's always off doing God knows what… And Mom… She's always drunk out of her mind."

"When I was seven, my older brother, Josh, ran away from home. He was twelve. Mom and Dad didn't even notice for almost two weeks, and once they did, they didn't even try to go after him and bring him back, or at least find out where he was… Then, when I was ten…" He broke down then and started crying really hard. I just froze, waiting for him to finish, half curious and half scared to hear what he was going to say next.

"One day when I was ten, I went to school like normal. My mom stayed home with my little sister, who wasn't much older than a year. I didn't really want to leave them alone, 'cause mom was so drunk and there were two more cases of beer in the fridge, but she wouldn't let me stay home… I didn't have a choice. I got on the bus and went to school."

"When I got home, my mom was asleep on the kitchen floor, but I couldn't find my little sister anywhere. I went to the bathroom… She was floating in the bath tub, her face and skin were blue… I called 911, but I knew it was too late… Your skin isn't supposed to be blue, even a little kid knows that! Mom found out when she woke up from the ambulance sirens, but she was so drunk that all she said was "Good! One less damn mouth to feed, and no more crying all night!"

"Oh my God…" I whispered, shocked. What else is there to say to a story like that? "God… Michael, I'm so sorry…"

Michael turned and buried his face in my chest, sobbing uncontrollably. I just wrapped my arms around him, held him close and rocked back and forth gently, hoping to comfort him at least a little.

What type of parents can live like that? How had Michael survived with parents like those? He was a lot stronger than I could ever be; I knew that instantly.

"I've gotten past that." he finally whispered. "My brother and sister not being around, I mean. But my parents are still just as bad… And now my job! I tried working as a grocery store clerk for a while, but I didn't make enough to support Mom and myself. She just drank away my paycheck when she'd go to cash it in. I needed a job that paid better, you know?"

"So I looked around, and saw the ad for that place… I mean, it was just for a waiter, no big deal. I figured that I could handle that, you know what I mean? Easy job, right? Pay plus tips sounded good, so I went to check it out. I got the job on the spot, started that night."

"I guess it isn't that bad. I get lots of tips, and I keep those. Mom takes my pay check, spends a little of it on food, a little on bills, and the rest on alcohol. Dad pays for the rest of the bills when he comes home, and I use my tips to buy clothes and stuff for myself. It works, I guess. I've only had the job for a few months."

"Besides, it isn't often that anyone tries to pull anything on me. I mean, why would they? They're not all drunk, it really is a family restaurant… This was only the third time. If you would have come in any other night, you wouldn't have seen it, and you wouldn't have had to go through all this trouble because of me." He sounded guilty, like he'd been the one to do something wrong.

"Hey, I already told you not to worry about it!" I told him reassuringly, giving him a quick hug. "It gives me a chance to get to know you; I really have been meaning to talk to you for a while now, I just hadn't gotten a chance."

He turned to face me with a half amused, half sad smile on his face. "You don't have to say that to make me feel better, you know. You've already done a lot more for me than what I deserve."

"You shouldn't diss yourself like that, man. It's not good for your mind, ya know?" I said, only half teasing. It was the truth; it really isn't good to cut yourself down. Bad for your self-confidence and all. "Besides, I'm not just saying that. I really would like to get to know you better. Try and be friends. If you want to, that is…"

He stared at me, and it was pretty obvious that he hadn't come to my house expecting me to say anything like this. I don't know what he did expect, though. I mean, what else would I do besides try to talk? Strip him down, throw him onto the bed, pull my pants down and start pounding into him? God, I'm not some rapist freak or anything! And I'm not wearing pants, if you want to get technical…

Oh well. I guess that, considering what I've heard about his life, it's only natural for him to be prepared to face the worst.

"I… I'd like that." he said finally, blushing. "I've never really had many friends before… I think it'd be really nice to get to know you, too."

I felt really, really bad for him them. A life with stuff like he'd told me about, and nobody to support him through it all? I was determined to stick by him, whether or not he wanted me to right then. I'd let him make up his mind once he got to know me better.

We stayed up talking for about another half hour, maybe forty-five minutes. I found out that he collects knives, hates math class, and likes to play video games and watch anime. When he said that, I was like, "What the hell is anime? Some type of porn or something?" He laughed and explained it was Japanese animation.

I don't think I'm getting him right. I have to be missing something here. I mean, like, Sailor Moon and Pokemon and stuff? Man, I didn't think he'd go for the kiddy cartoons… He said something about Gundam Wing and Ranma ½ and Fushigi Yuugi, and how they weren't kid shows, but until he shows me something other than the commercials I've seen on the WB, I'm just not going to understand what he means. The closest to 'non-kiddy' stuff I've seen on TV is Dragon Ball Z, which is okay, but it's still pretty much for kids. Michael insists it's been 'Americanized', which I guess must mean dumbed down until it sucks, but… Whatever.

After he told me a little about himself, I decided to do the same. I stuck with the basics, like how I love to watch wrestling, and hate baby-sitting my bratty little siblings, and how much I love to cook. I told him about how I love to ride my bike, especially when the sun's either rising or setting, even though I have a car. And how I don't like heights very much, and that I think teen idol girl singers just majorly suck, with a few exceptions.

Once I'd told him a few things about myself, he started asking questions about my family. I told him that my Mom and Dad's names are Virginia and Fred, that my little sisters are five year old Sara and ten year old Esther, my twelve year old little brother is Jason, and my dog is named Buster. He seemed so amazed that my family and I get along, even though I complained a little about what brats my brother and sisters can be sometimes.

A while later we were talking about food. What we like and don't like (he loves chocolate and some weird sounding Japanese snack called Pocky, and isn't too crazy about peaches, raw vegetables, or pizza), what we knew how to cook, and what our favorite restaurants were. Man, that kid knew some pretty cool sounding recipes! I just wondered if he could actually cook well. Knowing how to do something doesn't necessarily mean being good at it, you know.

It wasn't until someone knocked at my bedroom door, causing Michael to shoot away from me, that I realized I had had my arms wrapped around him the entire time we had been talking. That surprised me; I hadn't noticed, but then again, Michael hadn't protested or tried to move away, so I figured that it was okay, and I hadn't done anything wrong.

"Come in!" I called as Michael repositioned himself sitting down about a foot away from me, looking casual. Those gorgeous blue-green eyes of his were focused right on the door, and he seemed a little bit nervous again. Lord only knows why, but it made another surge of sympathy go through my body.

The door swung open just a little, and my mom poked her head through. She has the same wavy black hair as I do, only a lot longer, but I can only wish that I had killer eyes like hers. She's got amber colored eyes, kind of like a golden yellow, and they look so cool.

Me? I got stuck with really weird looking eyes from who-knows-where. They're two different colors; the right one is a blue that's actually closer to purple, which is actually pretty cool looking to tell the truth, and the left one is this really pale green. I guess that I don't look bad, but I feel like such a freak! Not only are my eyes two different colors, they're two different weird colors!

"Hey boys. It's 11:30, dad and I are going to bed. Esther is at a friend's house, so make sure to answer the phone if it rings; it could be her wanting to come home. Feel free to raid the kitchen if you want, but make sure you don't wake anybody up being too loud." She said. We both nodded.

"Yes ma'am." Michael said. Mom looked a little surprised, then smiled widely.

I stood up and walked over to the door. "G'night, Mom." I said, kissing her goodnight and giving her a quick hug.

"You'll have to bring this friend of yours over more often, Davis! He has such lovely manners! Be sure to invite him for dinner tomorrow before he goes home; I'd like to talk to him." Mom whispered in my ear before returning my hug and kiss. I guess that it doesn't take much to impress her.

"I will." I grinned. With that, my mom backed out of the room and headed down the hall to Sara's bedroom, probably to read her a bed-time story. I shut the door behind her.

"Well, Michael, you've met with my mother's approval so far. If you'll stay for dinner tomorrow, we'll see if my dad likes you too. If he does, you're welcome over any time. If even the brats and Buster like you, then you're family, as far as everyone's concerned." I announced, turning around and walking back over to my bed. I flung myself into the air and flopped down on the blankets, causing Michael to bounce around with me. He giggled, then smiled.

"I hope they like me." he said shyly.

"I'm sure they'll love you, don't worry about it! Mom's the hardest one to please most of the time, but she's already in love with your manners. Just be nice to the kids, and stay polite with my dad, and you'll do great." I reassured him.

He blushed, apparently embarrassed by the fact that my mom liked him, and that I thought the rest of the family would too. He looked adorable.

"Are you hungry?" I asked suddenly. It hadn't occurred to me until just then that he might not have eaten dinner that day.

"A little," he said, blushing again. "But it's no big deal." I swear, Michael blushes more than any other guy I've met to this day! More than a lot of girls I know, too, for that matter!

"Well then, let's go down to the kitchen and get something to eat." I suggested, rolling over and sitting up. He nodded, and followed my example as I got off the bed and left the room, heading downstairs.