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Charlie was lying on Tori’s bed. He was on his back, looking at her upside down, so his face looked sort of droopy. He did this more often, lately. Walking into her room just to hang out. Sometimes they’d talk, sometimes they’d just quietly enjoy each other's company. Tori had a suspicion he just didn’t want to be alone sometimes.
She knew that feeling.
Today, Charlie had quietly entered her room, and stretched out on her bed. He didn’t seem much for conversation today— but not in a worrying way, she thought, he didn’t seem tired, no dark circles, no frown, he had been sleeping well, he had been eating well —
“Is Michael your boyfriend?”
Oh. Huh.
Michael had kissed her, once, she supposed.
It was on the roof of a burning building after she confessed that she maybe wanted to die, though, so she wasn’t sure if that really counted. And Charlie had witnessed it. Had he? She actually had no idea how much he was able to see from where he stood in the grass.
That was months ago. Everything moved so fast after that. Starting therapy, facing her own mental health issues while still dealing with Charlie’s recovery, figuring out where this all left her and Becky… Too much had happened in too little time. There had never been any moment to think about it.
They hadn’t really discussed it afterward, either. It just sort of… happened. That was all.
So she simply said, “Why do you care, Charles?”
“I don’t, really,” Charlie replied, and she knew he meant it. “But if he were, you could tell me.” He rolled over (he’s never liked the feeling of keeping his head upside-down for too long), and looked at her with those big, blue sincere eyes of his. Everyone always said their eyes were the same, a clear indication that they were siblings, but Tori didn’t think her eyes had ever carried that expression in her whole life.
“And if he weren’t, you could also tell me. If you weren’t into guys at all, that would be okay too. I don’t know if you know, but I’m pretty hip with the El Gee Bee Tee Queues—”
She threw a cat plushie at him— a gift from Michael, she realised— and he laughed. “No! Violence!” he cried out, and she couldn’t stop herself from breaking into a grin.
“I’ll tell you when I tell you,” she said.
She had no idea what she would be telling him, though.
Ever since winter had melted into spring, Tori had felt her moods lift. “Of course,” Michael had said when she confessed this to him weeks earlier. “It’s your season!”
She didn’t feel the need to tell him she heard that joke every spring. This one was different, somehow brighter and lovelier than the past several years. It was the weather, she thought.
The weekly therapy sessions probably also had something to do with it.
Still, the blue skies didn’t hurt. They filled her room with golden rays of light every morning, making it feel bright and open instead of cold and isolated. Days like these, where a fresh breeze kept her from overheating while she was sprawled out on a picnic blanket like a cat in the sunlight, she couldn’t help but be overtaken by a peculiar and unfamiliar feeling.
Look, it was definitely the therapy. But maybe it was also the surge of vitamin D, or the cool grass beneath her fingertips, or the sight of Michael talking passionately about a show he had seen. In the middle of all of it, she couldn’t keep this strange feeling from crawling in her chest.
Happiness.
No, maybe not happiness, but contentment. It had been a long, long time since she had last felt content, and it was terrifying.
Sadness was easy. Sadness was what she knew. It was a core part of who she was, a cynical, lost, self-described chronic pessimist. She had spent almost all of her teenage years building her identity around it, and now she had to let it go, and it felt like chopping off her right foot.
Of course she hadn’t thought about that one kiss. It was the least of her concern, right now.
“You’re not really listening, are you?” Michael asked, stopping in the middle of his story. While she was lost in thought, she had completely stopped paying attention to him.
“Sorry,” Tori said, trying not to beat herself up for it too much. Concentration issues were a part of depression. Still, she felt a bit of familiar guilt.
She sat up, her face now level with Michael’s. Almost level. He truly was ridiculously tall, and she truly was ridiculously short. “You were talking about... Gossip Girl? Is it good?”
“It’s atrocious,” Michael said, like that was a positive thing. “Are you alright? What’s on your mind?”
A few months ago, she would have dismissed that question. Or broken down entirely. Or both. Now, she said: “Er, I just… I got lost inside my own head again, I guess.”
He smiled fondly. “It’s like a maze in there,” he said, softly tapping the top of her skull. “Tell me about your deep thoughts, ” he said, now lying down himself, legs and head sticking out from the admittedly way too small blanket. “I’d love to get lost in your maze, if you want me to.”
“I just…” she started, and lay down with a sigh. She didn’t want to talk about this right now. It was such a nice day. She didn’t want to dwell now. “I dunno. Stuff. Therapy’s gotten to me.”
She placed her head on Michael’s chest, cuddling up to him. “Been there,” he said.
She felt his arm wrap around her. “I’d rather talk about Gossip Girl right now, if you don’t mind.”
They talked about Gossip Girl.
The sun had almost gone down, and the temperature had rapidly dropped with it, so she had put back on her coat, now sitting opposite Michael. Even in the dim twilight, his eyes were noticeably different colours, the blue lighter than the green.
“Why did you kiss me?” She blurted the question out before she could properly think about it.
“On the roof, you mean?” Michael replied, like she didn’t just address something they had quietly agreed not to talk about for months.
She didn’t really have to properly think about it. It’s just Michael.
“Yeah, on the roof. You said, you,” she sighed, and his lips quirked at her obvious disgust, “ loved me since you met me , but, I mean, no you didn’t. So… What…” she trailed off, motioning her hand around instead of finishing her sentence.
“I don’t know,” Michael said, plucking at some grass next to his leg where he sat. He was still in just his t-shirt. “It was kind of impulsive. It was just like…” he looked up, off into the distance, a dark and disconnected look in his eyes.
“You were going to kill yourself, Tori. I panicked. I didn't really know what to do. So I had to find a way to show you how much you mean to me, and this was the first thing I could think of.”
How much you mean to me . They had known each other for about a month at that point. It was strange to think they still knew each other for less than a year. She could barely remember what it was like to not have him next to her most of the time, always a text or a phone call away. Retroactively, meeting Michael was like a puzzle falling into place. Their meeting was messy, but meant to be, in a way.
God. Catching up on all those Disney movies with him was definitely getting to her.
Tori nodded. “Okay.” She didn’t know what else to say. She didn’t even really know why she wanted an answer to that question.
Like he had been reading her mind, Michael asked, “Have you been thinking about it much? Or, er, where we stand, or something?”
She considered that for a moment. “No,” she said, honestly. “I genuinely hadn’t put much thought into it at all. It kind of was the least of my concern right after it happened, and since nothing between us became different, I just… forgot about it for a while, I guess.”
“Yeah,” Michael said. “Same, actually. I was more worried about you and Higgs burning down and everything else…” He shook his head. “It just seemed sort of… Irrelevant.”
“Yeah.”
“I do love you, though. That part’s entirely true.”
“I love you too,” Tori replied. There were very few people in her life she could say those words to with such ease and truth.
A cold wind hit her, and she pulled her jacket tighter around her body. “I love you, and I’m cold.”
“Let’s go back then,” Michael said, and they made their way back home, picnic blanket tucked under one of Michael’s long arms.
Talking to Becky was still a bit weird after all these months. They were on good terms, but this year, all the cracks in their friendship had finally become too much. Something had shattered between them, Tori couldn’t shake the feeling that they were finally broken beyond repair. The genuine friendship they once had was long gone. Lost, to never be seen again.
They still checked up with each other every now and then, though. Right now, they were in some flashy coffeeshop Becky had taken a liking to in the past few months. She had ordered something so complicated Tori knew men on the internet would make fun of her for it if they knew.
Tori had just asked for a diet lemonade, because the big menu was so intimidating her brain had short-wired and jumped to a predictable place. Sometimes she wondered if she would go through full-on withdrawal if she quit drinking diet lemonade. Probably. Definitely.
“So, how’s everything with you then? Like, erm, how’s therapy and stuff? If you wanna talk about that.” Becky sounded unsure, like she didn’t know if she could just ask this. Tori knew her concern was genuine. She remembered Becky’s drunken breakdown at her birthday party.
“Yeah, it’s… Alright. Confronting, I guess. But I think it’s helping.”
“Good, good,” Becky nodded. “I mean, that’s good to hear.”
“Yeah,” Tori said.
A short silence fell. She didn’t really know what else to say.
“And you and Michael?”
Tori blinked. “What about him?’
“It’s just…” The window behind Becky made her look like an angel, the way it created a halo around her purple head of hair. Her roots were showing a bit, Tori noticed. “I mean, you guys seem pretty close. I saw you holding hands the other day. Are you just friends, or…?”
“Oh.” Tori said, feeling her cheeks heat up a bit. “Yeah, no, I think so? Yeah, we’re friends.”
Becky raised a single eyebrow, a small smile forming on her lips. “Tori Spring, do you finally have a crush ?”
Tori looked down at her drink. There were a lot of ice cubes in it. Michael would chew them after she finished her drink, if he were here. “No. I mean, I don’t know. I don’t think so?”
“Mm-hmm.” Tori knew that tone of voice all too well. It was usually reserved for other girls at gossipy sleepovers. Back when they still had those.
Tori looked up at Becky again, the amusement was visible on her face. “We’re just really close, is all,” Tori said, “and I’ve had a lot on my mind. I haven’t had time to think about it.”
“Didn’t have time to think about it, or didn’t want to think about it?”
Tori felt a small wave of annoyance. This was very Becky. She could never just drop it. While Tori was dealing with actually important shit like her mental health, the thing that piqued Becky’s interest the most was the possibility of her having a boyfriend.
“Are you able to talk about something other than boys?” Tori snapped, more vicious than she intended.
Becky’s eyebrows shot up. “Woah. Okay.” she hesitated for a moment, like she was going to drop the subject entirely, but decided against it. “I’m just trying to have a casual conversation with you, Tori. Don’t treat me like I’m fucking shallow because I’m not talking about, like, the meaning of life, especially after I tried to ask you about your mental health and you clearly didn’t want to talk about it.”
Annoyance was replaced with guilt. Becky was right. She wasn’t the problem. But in the long run, Tori wasn’t the problem either. They were just kind of terrible at being friends with each other.
“I’m sorry,” Tori said and sank into her chair. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
Becky still sat there with her coffee, arms crossed. “Also, it’s really telling you would rather start a fight with me than talk about your crush. You’re down bad .”
“It’s not a crush ,” Tori said, and Becky slowly, exaggeratedly nodded, as if to sarcastically say, oh, yeah, sure, of course. Any tension had left the room entirely. Tori briefly wondered if Becky had been way too good for her all these years.
“I mean, I don’t know. I’ve never had one before. But there’s no butterflies or anything. And I don't daydream about our wedding, or something. We’re just very close. I just like being around him all the time. He’s… It’s just comfortable, I guess.”
Becky considered that for a moment. Tori wondered if they would ever be best friends again. Probably not.
“Tori,” Becky said eventually, looking at her fondly, “that’s better than butterflies.”
When she arrived home after seeing Becky, hanging up her coat in the hall, she could hear Oliver whoop at the TV from the other room. The unmistakable sound of being hit by a blue shell on Mario Kart followed shortly after.
Making her way into the living room, she found not only Oliver, but Nick and Michael too. Tori stood quietly in the doorway, not wanting to interrupt. The race finished.
“It’s not fair,” Nick whined. “I was first place for two whole laps!”
Oliver, who had finished first according to the screen, was beaming. “I AM UNDEFEATABLE!” He exclaimed.
“Michael blue-shelled me!” Nick said accusingly to Charlie, who had just entered the room from the kitchen, holding a large bowl of crisps.
Michael didn’t look particularly guilty. “Sorry about the betrayal, but my true loyalty lies elsewhere,” he said, leaning over to fistbump Oliver, who excitedly put his little hand against Michael’s. “Good job, amigo.”
“I’d betray you for Ollie too, I think,” Charlie said. “He’s just a lot more adorable than you.” He ruffled Oliver’s hair, who let out a sharp giggle. Looking up from his brother, he noticed Tori standing in the doorway.
“You’re home,” Charlie said, and Michael turned towards the door, too.
“Oh, hi, Tori,” Michael said. “I just sort of showed up but you weren’t in, and then Ollie asked me to play Mario Kart. Obviously, I had to defend my honour.”
“You finished last,” Tori noted, plopping down on the sofa, too.
“I never said I was any good at it.”
Leaning her head on his shoulder, she realised how tired she was. He smelled nice. He smelled like Michael.
“Do you want to play?” He asked, holding his controller out to her.
“No,” Tori said, “that’s alright. I’d rather watch.” If Nick and Charlie were looking at them, she couldn’t feel it.
A few hours later, the room had gone quiet. Nick, Charlie and Oliver were gone. The bowl was empty. Tori’s head was still on Michael’s shoulder.
She had fallen asleep, she realised.
Tori moved her head from his shoulder to stretch out. Her neck felt stiff after sleeping for what was probably a few hours.
“Good morning,” Michael said. The low sun cast a golden glow on his face.
Tori blinked a few times, trying to shake off the sleepy haze. “Did you spend all this time with Nick and Charlie?” It wouldn’t be the first time she had accidentally left Michael alone with them.
Michael nodded. “Most of it, yeah. But Nick had to leave at five, so Oliver and Charlie went to do something else too.”
“Oh,” Tori said.
“I don’t mind.”
“I know, but… You know.”
“Do you think that maybe, we’re dating a little bit?” Michael asked. “I mean, we don’t act very different from Nick and Charlie. And I know that doesn't necessarily mean anything, but…”
Guess he had been thinking about it too, then.
“Yeah, actually,” Tori said. Michael was almost a constant presence in the house. He came round pretty much as often as Nick did. Oliver adored him, and thought of him as family the same way he did Nick. Michael had even tagged along to visit her grandparents, once. Maybe he already was part of the family.
None of her friendships had ever been like that. Not even Becky. Definitely not Lucas.
“I don’t mind it, though,” she admitted.
“Neither do I,” Michael said.
“I’ve never properly fancied anyone before, I think. So I don’t really know what that feels like. Or if this is what that feels like. I just know I kind of want to talk to you every day until I die.” That was the best way she knew to express it, really.
Michael smiled. “And after. We could haunt someone together.”
“And after,” Tori agreed.
“I’m glad you’re my soulmate, Tori Spring.”
She realised he was still holding her hand, from when before she fell asleep. “I’m glad you’re mine.”
She looked up at him. “Can I kiss you again?”
“Yeah,” he said, softly, and he met her halfway, gently pressing his lips to hers. It was very different from their first kiss— it had been desperate, terrified. This was soft. Comfortable.
This was Michael.
She could get used to it.