Three Years, Five Months and Eleven Days

Chapter Thirty

Here it is. The big one. Three Zero. Michael leaves. Just :O I can't believe I just wrote this. I'm actually physically shaking. 

:O :O :O

Please tell me what you think. PLEASE. If you have never commented on any other chapter, THIS IS THE ONE YOU MUST COMMENT ON. I just want to know how you, yes YOU, feel after reading this. PLEASE COMMENT.

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      The aftermath of Beth’s visit was just as quick as the visit itself. Michael calmed me down like the wonderful miracle worker he is and my parents were happy with the tiniest bit of an explanation, then we all swiftly tried not to think about it. It was my birthday after all and they didn’t want anything to ruin it.

     We drove to Haverfordwest for dinner and spent a long time in the restaurant eating, laughing and celebrating me. We didn’t arrive back home till almost midnight.

     Michael slept in my room again because we didn’t want to be apart on our last night together and my parents were strangely okay with it.

     In the morning I woke up with a bad feeling in my throat: clearly my body hadn’t forgotten for a moment what this day meant, even though my mind took a few seconds to remember. I opened my eyes and tilted my head back slightly to look at Michael. He was already awake and smiling.

     ‘This is the last time I’m going to wake up and feel glad because I am spending yet another day with you,’ Michael said to me.

     ‘Has someone been watching me sleep?’ I teased him playfully.

     ‘Of course I have,’ he replied with a smile. I snuggled closer to him, enjoying the warmth of his body against mine. ‘I like falling asleep with you in my arms,’ he told me. ‘Because it means I get to wake up with you there.’

     I ran a finger over his bare chest. ‘I like sleeping with my head on your chest,’ I said. ‘It’s more comfortable than any pillow.’

     ‘It’s a pity we’ve only done this on these last two nights,’ he sighed.

     ‘It’s a pity you have to leave,’ I pointed out.

     ‘Lets not go over the other possibilities again,’ he suggested. ‘We’ve done it so many times and we always come to the conclusion that I have to leave today. We just have to face it head on.’

     ‘I can do that,’ I said. ‘I’m not even going to cry.’

     ‘You’re not going to cry when I leave?’ he asked, sounding surprised.

     ‘You know I cry mostly when I’m angry or frustrated,’ I reminded him. ‘I cry in situations when I’m sad very occasionally, but I’ve never cried when someone’s left me. Even when I’m telling myself I’m really sad and that I want to cry because I’m going to miss them so much, the tears just never come. I guess it’s cause I don’t feel the reality of them leaving till after they’re gone.’

     ‘I bet you’ll cry for me,’ he said proudly.

     ‘I wish I could,’ I told him. ‘But don’t be offended if I don’t. Emotional good-byes just aren’t my thing.’

     We got out of bed reluctantly. I knew there was nothing I could do to stop time going by, but I wanted to believe that if we just stayed in bed everything would be okay.

      Michael still had billions of things to pack, and he had to leave by midday, otherwise he would be driving into the night. He got to work packing as soon as we were showered and dressed, but he had made himself so at home that finding all his possessions didn’t look like it was going to be an easy job.