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•catherine•

I practically force Michael to go with me for a walk around town. He is so concerned about my hangover. Aha, I'm Catherine Besner, I don't get hangovers. Okay, so my head was killing me earlier or yesterday, whenever that was. I'm fine now though.

Michael drives his car into town, I wanted to take my car because it's a convertible, but I guess Michael didn't want me driving just yet. I am a bit tipsy still, if I'm honest.

On the way, I stare out the window. Music is playing quietly in the car; some band I don't know but Michael seems to like as he sings softly along. Then, a thought hits me.

"Did you ever tell me why you were in therapy?" I ask quietly.

"I don't think so." Michael replies, keeping his eyes on the road. "Do you want to know?"

I nod and turn myself in the passenger seat so I can face him. "Yeah, kind of."

Michael sighs and takes the exit that leads the the outskirts of downtown. He doesn't say anything until he parks by the park my mum used to take me and Macey to when we were little.

He turns the engine off and turn to face me.

"Do you honestly want to know?" He seems a little reluctant.

"Yeah. I did tell you why I was in therapy." I reply, pulling one of my knees up to my chest.

"Not entirely."

"Well, you got the gist of it." I snap, then look down, regretting my tone. "Sorry." I mumble.

"It's okay." Michael shrugs and looks down, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. "I guess it's fair that you know."

I lean forward in anticipation, waiting for Michael to tell me the answer to a question I've been asking myself since I met him. I can tell he's nervous, so I take his hand and give it a gentle squeeze.

"It's okay. I won't judge you, I have no room to." I chuckle slightly.

Michael gives me a smile smile before taking a deep breath. "My mum put me in therapy because I was having social problems and she thought I was depressed. I guess I was depressed, maybe I still am, I don't know. I just didn't like to socialise. It wasn't the normal teenager don't-talk-to-me thing, it was more like I stayed in my room away from people. Away from the bullshit world. I didn't come out unless I absolutely had to-like for food or school.

"I did things I kind of regret-at the time I didn't regret them, but now I do. I just wasn't normal. I was considered broken. I smoked a lot and stole my mum's alcohol. I did things normal teens wouldn't do. Then I dropped out of school, and everything just went farther downhill. My mum was scared for me, or of me, I never really found out, and she put me in therapy."

I nod along to Michael's story. It doesn't all make sense; most of his story does, but not all. Like why did he start not socialising? Or was he always that way? What things did he do that he now regrets? I don't really want to ask him because I don't want to push him. He already told me this-and I can tell it was hard enough-I don't need to know anything else at the moment.

"Pretty stupid, isn't it?" Michael breaks me from my thoughts. "That's what everyone else I told said."

"What? No! No, its definitely not stupid." I say, squeezing his hand a bit tighter. "Some people just don't understand that you can end up broken in many different ways."

I'm praying that my words are enough to assure him that his reason for being in therapy isn't stupid in any way.

"Yeah, I guess." He mumbles, looking away from me.

"Whoever you told before were idiots if they responded that way. They don't know what it's like to break and have to try to fix yourself." I say, reaching out to turn Michael's face back toward me.

He gives me a small smile and leans into my hand.

"Trust me, it's not stupid." I say, giving him a soft smile.

"I trust you."

---

Thirty minutes later we are walking around downtown Charlotte, nearly gone ice cream cups in hand and smiles on our faces.

"I can't believe you did that!" I laugh as Michael raises his eyebrows at me.

"Well, I couldn't just let her keep walking around with a giant red stain on the back of her jeans!" He replies, throwing his arm over my shoulders.

"You didn't have to yell it across the store!" I feel bad for laughing about the whole situation but it is pretty funny.

Basically, what happened was we were in a little boutique-I had to force Michael to go in-and I was looking around for some new shirts and jeans. That was when Michael decided to yell across the store at a girl, who wasn't much older to us, that she had a red stain the size of an apple on her ass.

We left the store almost immediately, and haven't stopped laughing since then.

"At least she knows now." He shrugs as if it was no big deal.

"True." I agree, finishing my ice cream.

Silence falls over us as we walk toward the park in the middle of town. I've only driven by this park, it's huge with a lake equipped with a dock in the center. Apparently Michael has been here several times. I catch him smiling at several objects-a bench, the swings-like he's remembering a happy childhood moment.

"I used to come here a lot with my dad." Michael says, glancing at me as I watch him.

"Oh," I nod slowly and look around again.

The sun has begun to set and it looks beautiful on the lake. I grab Michael's hand and pull him out onto the dock. He laughs as I jump up and sit on the railing.

"Don't fall in." Michael says, coming to stand between my legs and rests his hand on my hips.

"If I do, you'll just have to jump in after me." I grin widely at his horrified expression.

"Yeah, that's funny. I'm not jumping in there." He says, glancing behind me at the water.

The fact that Michael is extremely tall comes in very handy here because, even though I'm sitting on the dock railing, he's still a good inch or two taller than me.

"Today was fun." He says, pressing his forehead against mine.

"Yeah, it really was." I chuckle, slightly startled by his affectionate action.

I find myself even more startled when Michael presses his lips against mine.

(A/N another long chapter! I hope you guys love me for that even though it's kind of a cliffhanger!)

therapy // clifford a.u.Where stories live. Discover now