::cough::
I may've put my name in the hat. I'll never know why. Oh, god, what's wrong with me. I'm blaming Laura. It's all her fault. Send her hate mail or something.
Also, prompt me, please. Drabble-length things. I need to get back in the swing of things and that seems as good a way as any.
This is the thing: sometimes, she says his name and it's like he can't breathe. She says it like it means something different, something more. She says it like maybe.
Most of the time, you know, it's nothing. She's his cousin and she never really looks at him when she talks to him. She looks over his shoulder, or a little to the left, or she focuses on the spot on his shirt from when she said hello over breakfast and he spilled milk on it and then didn't have time to change.
So, it's surprising, sometimes, when it's the middle of the night and the rest of the family is sleeping or not home because they've mostly managed to forget all about them in the mess of their lives, and the mess that they make of each other's lives. George Michael isn't bitter, he understands.
But Maeby is, and she doesn't. That's okay too, most of the time. And its' alright when she's got her hair pulled up, and George Michael is in his pajamas, and they're sitting at the kitchen table in the middle of the night sharing ice cream and a spoon.
George Michael's feet are cold, on the floor and Maeby says his name like she understands this, if not anything else. And she smiles and he feels like he imagines being punched in the gut would feel, and when Maeby's around he never really gets a chance to forget what it feels like to want.
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I, just, wow. I'm speeachless. :))))) Thank you!!
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