This is probably so dumb, but it’s cute and soft and it’s our sweet little baby grunge Michael. Enjoy!
125. “(Name)?” - “Yeah?” - “I’m gonna kiss you now.” - “Okay.”
137. “Truth is, I just wanted an excuse to hold your hand.”
There was a lot that intrigued you about your neighbor’s new son. Ms. Mead had lived next door to your parents for at least five years now. Although you had been wary of the woman who you had once seen bark back at a Rottweiler until it ran away with its stumpy tail tucked between its legs, the boy she had taken in was far less intimidating. Sure, sometimes he reminded you of Norman Bates with the times that you’ve caught him staring out of his living room window, but you could get past that. His baby blue eyes, unruly blond curls, and the clumsy, boyish way he enjoys life around him more than makes up for the creepiness.
Today, like most days, Michael is attempting not to look like he’s waiting for you in his front yard. He’s sitting on the porch with a graphic novel in his hands, long legs stretched out in front of him, but the book is immediately shoved aside the moment that you park in your driveway. Your eyes automatically drift towards the cute neighbor, who’s looking right back at you.
“Hey, Michael,” you greet.
Michael gives you a halfhearted wave, attempting some form of nonchalance. “Hi, (Y/N).”
“Just a book that Ms. Mead had laying around.” When he realizes that you’re not just making small talk like everybody else he encounters, he stands from his spot and crosses towards you.
“Why do you call her Ms. Mead? I thought she was a family member that took you in?”
“She’s not, actually. She’s sort of my foster mom, if that makes sense.”
“Come on, we don’t have to stand around.” You motion for Michael to follow you to your house’s porch swing before continuing. “But you still call her Ms. Mead?”
“It’s what works for both of us.”
You shrug. “Okay, so what’s the book that your ‘Ms. Mead’ has?”
“Palm reading.” The incredulous look on your face makes Michael laugh. “I know it seems completely fake, but it’s actually kind of interesting.”
“Do you think there’s any truth behind it, though?”
“Maybe.” Michael smiles at you. “Want me to read your palm and we can see just how accurate it actually is?”
You consider Michael’s request for a moment, glancing down at his outstretched hand before nodding. “Sure, I guess there’s no harm in a magic trick.”
Michael takes your hand gently, long fingers delicately running over the planes of your palm. You smile at the way that Michael’s tongue just barely pokes out between his lips in concentration, eyes fixed on the different lines on your hand.
“So? Am I gonna die an early death?”
Michael chuckles, shaking his head. “Your life line,” he runs a finger down one of the lines, demonstrating what he’s talking about, “doesn’t actually predict how long you’ll live. Instead, it gauges your life journey. See how it’s a deep crease?”
“Well, that means that your life is going to be full of rich experiences.”
He shrugs. “The palm only divulges so much.”
“Ah. Okay, ‘Mystical Michael,’” you tease, “continue with your reading.”
“The heart line is basically self-explanatory. Yours is long, which means that you’ll have quite a few long term relationships.”
“Platonic or romantic?” Michael glances up at you, his cheeks turning red at the mention of romance.
“Well, I–um, I guess–y’know, it could be…either? But it’s difficult to conclusively–”
“Michael?” you interrupt, eyes flickering down to Michael’s mouth before you catch his gaze again.
“I’m gonna kiss you now.”
“Okay,” Michael squeaks, silenced by your lips pressing against his.
It’s obvious that Michael’s not a very experienced kisser, but you take the lead on this occasion. His lips are soft, lips melding against yours as he cautiously reciprocates the kiss. You pull away after a moment, not wanting to fluster him too much, but the astonished expression on Michael’s face confirms that just the small kiss was enough to wreck him.
“You good?” you ask with a small smile. Michael stares at you with wide eyes before nodding once. “Okay, just wanted to make sure you were okay with that.”
“I was…very okay with that. Actually, the book I was reading wasn’t even on palmistry.”
You look at Michael in mock shock. “No! You seemed so knowledgeable on the subject!”
“I–I mean, I have read a book about palmistry before, and everything I said is true, but,” he smiles shyly, “truth is, I just wanted an excuse to hold your hand.”
Your heart clenches at the sweetness in Michael’s statement. “You know, you could have just asked me to hold hands with you.”
“I could have, but you have to admit that was pretty smooth, right?”
“Yes,” you say, kissing him again, “extremely smooth.”
