Chapter 12

A (real) frog-choker
A particularly heavy or torrential downpour of rain. 

• o 🦋 o •

It was raining and I was shaking not because I’d been completely drenched on my way to Mica’s house but because it was today. Confrontation day. Making a move day.

And if I hadn’t promised Riley I would’ve totally chickened out but I had promised Riley and I just wasn’t one to break promises. So I stood in front of Mica’s creepy gates, waiting for courage to drop from the sky and grace me with it’s presence.

I would have to wait forever it seemed because no matter how long I stood there, I didn’t get more fearless, just wetter.

The gates were open so I went on inside. I only knocked once and immediately butler Charles opened the door and led me into the house.

“Mr. Jay.” He smiled.

“Hello, Charles.”

Charles looked at my jacket apprehensively. “Here… Let me take that from you..” He stuck out his hands, though his expression looked slightly repulsed.

“Thanks.” I said awkwardly as I took off my jacket.

Charles only held it between thumb and index finger.

“Mica will meet you shortly.” Charles nodded and disappeared into the hallway.

“Great.” I mumbled. “Alone in the creepy house.” I wandered around, stopping at the alter.

Mica’s brother smiled at me from the picture. I kind of wish I’d known him better. He sounds like a nice guy from everything Riley and Mica had told me.

“You’re all wet.” I heard Mica’s voice in the distance.

I turned around as he walked into the living room.

Gosh golly. He looked so lovely again. How could I ever tell him?

He was wearing a pastel yellow knit sweater with a tiny embroidered frog on it(!!), soft pink shorts and fuzzy yellow socks.

“You’ll catch a cold if you don’t change out of those clothes.” Mica said. “I have some dry ones you can borrow. Do you want to take a shower?”

He was so sweet. So caring. An angel, really. I didn’t deserve him! He was talented and pretty and I.. Sigh.

“James?” Mica cocked his head. “Are you okay?” He stroked my arm.

Guys, he stroked my arm! I was tingling.

And I was acting very weird. I had to say something.

“Yes. I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?”

I nodded.

“Okay.” Mica walked towards the hallway. “Or would you rather take a bath?” He wondered.

“A shower is fine.” I said.

• o 🦋 o •

I stepped into the bathroom. And not just any bathroom; Mica’s bathroom. I was basically in heaven.

The bathroom was entirely peach-colored and meticulously clean. Of course it was.

Mica had prepared everything for me. A set of fresh clothes, shower gel, a body and face scrub, a washcloth, a loofah, shampoo and conditioner, a towel.. Everything apart from the towel and clothes, brand new. He’d even lit a candle and it smelled heavenly. It was like I was at a spa.

“Wow…” I sighed.

As I took my shower I continued to look around the space. I wanted to find some sort of secret. Like… a lip balm! Or something… Something that would tell me something new about him like… a razor! Did he shave? He had to, his skin was so smooth.

Out of the shower I opened his cabinet in search of a secret. Nothing. Nothing you wouldn’t expect from Mica. I found a hair brush. I was weird enough to smell it. Not proud of it whatsoever.

I scolded myself for being such a creepazoid and got dressed.

I unlocked the bathroom and stepped into Mica’s bedroom.

He was laying on the bed on his stomach with his feet in the air. The rain had stopped and the sun was pouring in through the windows.

He smiled happily when he saw me. There it was. That look of delight. How could anyone look at someone that way if they didn’t like-like them?

“Had a nice shower?” He asked.

“Yeah. It was so relaxing. The candle’s great.”

“It’s nice, isn’t it? It’s lavender.” Mica lay on his side. “I have one extra if you want,”

“No, no, that’s okay.”

“It’s no problem.” Mica got up and went into his bathroom.

I sat down on his bed.

He came out with an elegantly packaged candle in hand. “Here.”

“Thanks Mica.” I felt so warm and cozy inside.

Mica sat next to me on the bed. Then he sighed and fell down on the bed. “I know you came here to work on planning Riley’s birthday but I honestly feel so lazy..”

“Well, it’s okay to be lazy sometimes.” I reluctantly lay next to him.

Mica chuckled. “You’re not supposed to say that! You’re supposed to say: ‘We can do this, let’s work hard!'”

“I’m beginning to think I’m here to pump your brakes a little. You work too much. You need to learn to relax.”

Mica sighed. “I don’t have time to relax..” Mica mused.

He turned to look at me.

“I’m sorry. I sound whiny, don’t I?”

“You’re not whiny at all. Mica, you are so selfless, it’s astounding!”

Mica looked at the ceiling.

“If you don’t have time to relax, how come you have time to plan Riley’s birthday?” I asked.

I took this time to admire Mica’s perfect side profile.

“I.. Kind of skip lunch so I can do this.” Mica admitted.

I sat up. “What the hell, Mica? You can’t skip lunch!”

Mica looked surprised. “It’s just one meal..”

“And then you dance on an empty stomach?”

“I- I usually have an apple or something..”

“Your dad’s not home, right?”

Mica sat up.

“No…” He said apprehensively.

I grabbed Mica’s hand and pulled him up from the bed.

“What are you doing?” Mica asked.

“We’re making lunch together.” I said determined. 

Again, I wasn’t usually like this. So… forthcoming and assertive but.. Mica didn’t take care of himself and that meant I had to.

“You can cook?”

“I can assemble a sandwich.” I said.

“Wait.” We stood still in the middle of the living room. “Where is your kitchen?”

Mica chuckled. “Follow me.”

He led me through the dining room and straight into the kitchen. Wow. This kitchen was bigger than my whole bedroom.

“How do you even find your way around here?” I wondered.

“I usually don’t, Charles does most of the cooking.”

Of course he does..

“You think that makes me spoiled, don’t you?”

“No!” I said quickly. “Not at all!” I didn’t want him to ever think I thought bad of him.

“It’s okay if you do. I know how it sounds.”

Mica opened a few of the many cabinets and pulled out all the sandwich-ingredients you could think of: five different types of breads, four different cheeses, vegetable toppings, sauces, SMOKED MEATS.

Obviously I knew they were rich.. but this was insane. If you had so many delicious options, how could you ever skip lunch?

“I’m in heaven.” I said.

Mica smiled pleased. “Take as much as you like.”

Mica saw my apprehension. “It’ll just go to waste if you don’t. My dad won’t be home for two days and it always gets thrown out on Fridays.”

“IT GETS THROWN OUT?!”

“My dad doesn’t believe in donating.” Mica looked away briefly.

“What a jerk. Just because he’s miserable doesn’t mean everyone else should be.”

Mica looked into my eyes. I couldn’t read his expression. Only when he looked away did I realize my words had hurt him. It was his dad, after all.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

“I understand if you did. You don’t have to apologize.” Mica smiled again. It was such a polite smile, dazzling nonetheless but… It was the kind of smile that hid something. I thought of the ballet and how upset he’d been after talking to his dad for three minutes! How he attempted to smile through the pain but his mask had finally slipped.

Mica, you’re allowed to feel sad, don’t you know?

By this point Mica was chopping some lettuce while humming a happy melody.

Charles came into the kitchen. “I see you were hungry?”

Mica nodded. “I got in trouble for skipping lunch.” Mica smirked at me.

“Really?” Charles said. He was smiling softly himself.

I was a bit taken aback, so far it’d seemed like Charles barely had emotions.

“I was horrified!” I chimed in. “Charles, you have to see to it that Mica eats his lunch. Feed it to him if you must!” I said jokingly.

Mica laughed gently and it made me feel like I was levitating. I couldn’t believe I brought him joy.

“Yes, I agree. I apologize for my misdoings.” Charles nodded gravely.

“Charles? When we’re done could you prepare a bag with all the leftovers? Just estimate however much you think we’ll need these next days.” Mica asked.

Charles glanced at me before nodding and leaving the room.

What was that look?

When we were done with our sandwiches it dawned on me that despite the fact that Mica basically never cooked, he was still a masterful chef. Seeing our sandwiches next to each other, it was painfully obvious that mine looked like an explosion and Mica’s like a piece of art.

“I thought you couldn’t cook!”

“It’s not that I can’t.. I just don’t do it often.” Mica said apologetically. “And I would hardly call this cooking.”

“Assembling, whatever!”

“…Do you wanna trade?”

“No, I do not! I’m going to eat this explo- this sadwich- I mean sandwich with pride!”

Mica chuckled at me. What a heavenly sound that was.

“Bon appétit.” We said to each other before digging in.

Now, my sandwich may have looked like a disaster but it sure didn’t taste like one. It was so freaking delicious and juicy..

“Is it good?” Mica chuckled.

“Best. Sandwich. Ever.” I said.

“Well, I’m glad.”

“How’s yours?”

“It’s okay. I’m sure yours is better.”

“Want a taste?” Without much thought I held my sandwich out to him. Only moments later I realized how couple-y this was. Making lunch together, feeding each other… An indirect kiss!

Mica looked a little apprehensive. OH MY GOD, I WAS MAKING THIS SO AWKWARD!

“Sure. Why not?” Mica shrugged. He leaned in and took a bite right from the middle. I’d put so much sauce on there, it was all over his mouth.

I laughed.

“Gosh,” He wiped his mouth like how those rich people in movies always did. So elegant. I was kind of hoping he didn’t get everything so I could go ‘There’s some sauce on your lips’ and wipe it away, you know? But Mica being the perfectionist he is, had a perfectly clean mouth.

Though his lips looked extra kissable since he’d rubbed them just then.

“How is it?” I attempted to look at his eyes.

“Not bad.” He nodded but he didn’t even look at me as he said it. There was turmoil in his eyes. It seemed it had nothing to do with the sandwich, though.

I continued eating and thought of a way to ask him what was wrong. But by the time I’d finally figured it out, Mica was all happy again. I couldn’t help but wonder what he was hiding. 

Or maybe what he was hiding was so obvious it needed no explanation. I was sure eating lunch, maybe even at this exact table reminded him of his brother and mother. Anyone would be sad.

Mica plucked at his bread without much vigor to eat it.

I couldn’t help myself, and placed my hand on his head.

Mica looked up at me and I gave him a reassuring glance.

• o 🦋 o •

We were in Mica’s room and after he’d insisted to brush his teeth (of course I did the same) we were back to lazying on the bed.

I realized that Mica really was meticulous about some things. Well.. about everything, actually.

Mica and I were coloring a mandala and everything he colored took forever but looked perfect in the end. My side on the other hand..

“What’s the lowest grade you’ve ever gotten?” I wondered.

“Hmm… 65?” He guessed.

“No, the lowest.”

“65.” Mica repeated.

“Seriously?”

Mica looked sort of embarrassed. “I’d fallen asleep studying the day before.”

“And you got 65 percent still?!”

“You think that’s good?” Mica seemed utterly confused.

“My lowest was twenty.”

Mica looked so shocked, it seemed anything under sixty didn’t even exist to him.

“You must’ve gotten in so much trouble.” He said.

“Actually, my parents asked me if I’d done my best, I told them yes and then they took me for ice cream to cheer me up.” I frowned. “I was more upset about it than they were.”

“Seriously?” Mica was in disbelief.

“Even when I got tutoring, I could only get like.. 55 if I was lucky? My parents were so proud of me that time, they took us out to eat!”

Mica couldn’t even comprehend that.

“You see, french was really, really hard for me and they knew I’d done my best, so they were proud no matter my score.”

“Your parents are so cool…” Mica mused. He still looked so puzzled as he continued coloring.

“How did your dad react? When you got that 65?”

Mica froze for a moment. Then he began fiddling with his pencil, searching for the right words.

“Um,” He brushed some of his hair behind his ear. “I had to.. retake the test.” He said absently.

“Did he get mad?” I asked. Maybe I was going too deep into this topic but this was his dad, and the idea that he treated him badly… super badly, still plagued me.

Mica didn’t say anything anymore, he was just staring at the sheets.

“Mica?”

“Huh?” He looked up at me.

“Was he… mad?” I asked softly.

Mica nodded. And there was that smile again. “Yeah.”

He continued coloring.

I wanted to ask more: how mad? Did he punish you? Why are you so tense when talking about him?

“Found any butterflies lately?” Mica went on. And just like that, he’d changed the subject.

I thought about that. Not really. If you didn’t count Mica, anyway.

“Nah. I’m working on finishing up those photos I took last time, though.”

“Finishing up?” Mica wondered.

“Yeah, editing them..”

Mica looked interested enough.

“You know, fixing the lighting, focus..” I began to laugh as I though about it.

“What?”

“Half of the pictures I took were of your face instead of the butterfly!” I chuckled.

Once again, WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT?!

“Oh really? How come?” Mica looked intrigued. His eyes had something playful now. Very, very attractive.

“Eh.. well..”

Maybe now was the time to say it. Mica, I love you! How could I not?!

“Well…” How was I going to phrase this?

“Well?” Mica leaned forward.

He was quite literally on the edge of his seat, leaning towards me. His cheeks still had that lively color that I loved. His hair was shiny and perfect and his lips called out to me. I realized that awkward as I was, I wasn’t going to be able to say what I wanted to. I would stutter and fumble and everything would be lost. Maybe I had to show him.

I brushed some hair out of his face. Mica blinked a little surprised but he didn’t pull away or anything and I figured that was my green light.

It was now or never.

I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his.