She looked like a ghost. That was his first thought. The realization it was Lynette did nothing to comfort him. It only scared him way more.
About a month ago, Lynette woke Michael up at 4am looking for matches. It was the sound of loose change falling off his shelves that did it.
"Yo, is Lynette still being crazy?" "Shhhhh!" They get outside, but Michael is not convinced that Lynette can't hear them. He feels strange.
They dick around like this for longer than is reasonable and somehow manage to get out of the apartment. More jokes in whispers in the hall.
When Michael next wakes up, Tony is playing with Clint/Lawrence. "Hey dude." "Hey." "Is it cool if I play with your pussy?" "Fuuuuck youuu."
He should use this. He thinks about doing nice things for the people he loves. He thinks about making something wonderful happen. He sleeps.
These mornings are fucking perfect. The sweet spot between REM cycles, not totally sober yet but present. He is capable. He is who he wants.
Michael stares at the ceiling, letting the sounds of the waking Liberty Avenue wash over him. Windows open, blinds still up from last night.
Cat's name is Lawrence. Not his cat. Before, not now. The cat is his now. He wants it to respond to Clint. Snappy, one syllable name's good.
He's known Tony since First Year. The cat is new. The cat makes Michael bashful. He hates being rude but his balls are hot. The air is cool.
Michael wakes up and clumsily takes off his pajama bottoms under the covers, careful not to disturb the sleeping bedfellows. A cat and Tony.
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