Chapter ten – You Like Her?

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The next morning, I'm awoken with Michael's voice right in my ear.

"Citria," he coos with a laugh, "It's morning ... "

This is the first time he's ever woken me up; normally it's me waking him up. He seems really cheerful, and I don't know why. Nonetheless, I open my eyes groggily, my first sight being Michael.

"Hey, Michael," I greet, stretching all my limbs and body, "How are you this morning?"

"I'm good, thank you. Yourself?"

"Yes ... I'm good too, thanks. I'll just go get ready, then I'll start making breakfast for us—"

"No, no," he smirks, taking a hold of my hand – which sends shivers down my spine – and pulling me off the sofa. I look at him curiously due to his previous words, but then he explains, "I'm making breakfast today."

My eyebrows involuntarily raise in surprise, "Are you sure?" Then I think of something, "A couple days ago, you said that you could only cook lasagna!"

This causes him to give an embarrassed closed-mouth smile, "Yeah, but I think I can handle a simple round of toast and some cereal." He finally lets go of my hand, allowing me to stand up properly and brush myself down, "Why? Don't you think I could make that?" he teases.

"Of course you could, I just don't want you to do the things I'm meant to do for you," I reply.

"Ah, don't worry. All you've done for me these past three days is help. I've done nothing at all for you."

"You have," I argue softly, "You've given me a friend."

I slip past him to go get ready, leaving him with that thought.

*  *  *

After getting ready, I head down the stairs, greeted by the smell of toast. Arriving into the kitchen, my first sight is Michael setting the plates on the table, along with the jugs of water and orange juice that we have every morning.

He soon spots me, "Oh, you're here!" he smiles, rushing back to the kitchen side and grabbing the plate of toast, before placing it on the table with everything else, "Help yourself. I hope I did a good enough job for ya."

Before I can take a hold of my chair, Michael takes a hold of it himself, and pulls it out for me. I thank him politely, then sit myself down on the chair, and tuck it in more so I'm closer to the table. I take a slice of toast, biting into it.

It's good, real good. Probably better made than my own, to be honest. I didn't realise toast could be made well or badly. It's just ... toast.

"You like?" he asks hopefully, taking a slice for himself and biting into it.

"I love it ... thank you. But what's made you decide to do this?"

He looks down at his plate, "I just wanted to show my appreciation for you, that's all. I wanted to show that I'm thankful for your support, y'know?"

"Oh," I give a smile, but I'm a little surprised, "Well, thank you Michael. That's ... very kind of you. Remember we're going to see my father today."

He takes his bottom lip into his mouth, and nods shyly, "I know." He then takes another bite of toast to avoid speaking any more, making the room fall completely silent.

I know he's nervous about the visit to my father's house, but it's for the best that he comes with me. He knows that, as well – he can't quite be trusted alone yet, I don't think.

The rest of breakfast remains rather quiet, with the odd spot of chit chat here and there. Soon, we both finish breakfast, and we go our separate ways so we can get changed out of our pyjamas and whatnot. Once that's done, we meet back downstairs in the kitchen.

"You ready to go?" I ask him.

He's standing with the small of his back leant against the kitchen side, fiddling with his nails silently. He looks up, only nodding to give his answer. Man, he really is nervous about this, isn't he?

"It'll only be an hour, tops," I assure him once again.

It's funny how his mood can change so quickly. When he woke me up, he was so cheerful and happy ... now he's quiet and nervous. I head towards the back door, unlocking it and opening it, before allowing us both out. We begin the fairly-short walk to my father's, and I try to get a little conversation out of Michael whilst we do so.

"My father's lovely, you know," I tell him, "He's just a little quiet, that's all."

"Mm-hmm," he mutters.

"Are you going to speak to me at all?" My voice begins to sound a little more disappointed.

"Yeah," he answers, "I'm just anxious about being around other people. I've gotten used to it being just you and me, that's all."

"Don't be anxious, Michael. My father is very nice, and even if he wasn't, it's almost as if he's non-existent anyway; he's been low since mom died ... I told you that."

"I know," he says, "I-I'll be okay."

Shortly after the conversation, we arrive at father's house, so I take the key from the key safe outside his house and unlock the front door to let me and Michael in.

After closing the door behind us, I slip into the living room to see my father sleeping. That's mostly what he does nowadays; he has nothing to do with his life. Bless him; he hurts badly because of mom and Andre's deaths.

I creep over to him, and tap his shoulder a little, before shaking him gently to wake him up, "Dad ... dad? It's me, Citria." He stirs in his sleep, but doesn't open his eyes, making me chuckle, "Daaaddy," I coo like a child. I turn to Michael, who's watching me closely, "Bless him; he probably doesn't even realise I'm here."

Michael gives a small smile, "Cute."

"Dad—"

"What are you doing?"

That voice makes me and Michael both jump, and we scream out in shock, causing dad to wake up with a start.

"Who—? Wha—?" he gasps, grabbing his remote control and flailing it around aimlessly. He looks up and sees me, and he catches his breath before smiling at me faintly, "Oh, Citria. Hello darling, how are you?"

"I'm good thanks dad, you?" I smile at him.

"Yes, yeah ... " he murmurs, his voice trailing off a little.

Me and Michael turn around to see who made us jump, and see a beautiful young girl, with black curly hair, brown eyes and olive skin; a slim, slender build and a confused expression on her face.

"Who are you?" she asks.

"I'm ... Citria, his daughter." I point at father, "Who are you?"

"Citria, this is Clover, my niece; your cousin. She's Pertunia's daughter, and she's come to stay a while to look after me."

Pertunia was my aunt; AKA my father's sister. She passed away about twenty years back, meaning this Clover girl is at least twenty, maybe twenty-one. However, Clover's introduction is only short-lived, due to the attention Michael suddenly gets given.

"And who's this?" father asks, pointing in Michael's direction, "Boyfriend?"

Me and Michael both widen our eyes in surprise, but I answer, "No! Gosh, no! We're just friends. We only met about three or four days ago. He's been staying in my house because he has nowhere else to go," I explain, "We've been keeping each other company."

"Oh," Clover smiles at Michael, and he returns the smile, "Nice to meet you, Michael." She walks over to him, before shaking his hand, then she remains next to him.

"So, dad," I turn my attention to him, "D-Do you want a cup of tea? Biscuit? Anything?"

He looks up at me forlornly, "Um, no, no sweetheart, I'm okay. You go get yourself something if you like – o-or Michael, if you want." He then averts his eyes to Clover, "Clover, go get some biscuits for Michael and Citria."

"No, no dad, it's okay," I assure him, which makes Clover stop in her tracks, "We ate before we came here." My eyes avert to Michael, "We just came by to see you; make sure you're alright." My gaze returns to father.

He nods in understanding, so I smile at him sweetly before turning around to talk to Michael. However, when I go to speak to him, I see that he isn't even there.

He's on the sofa, talking and laughing with Clover. The smile he has on his face is the same smile he usually has when he's at his very happiest with me – but this Clover girl isn't even trying, and he seems happy around her.

I swallow, as I suddenly feel a dryness giving an irritating niggling feeling in the back of my throat. My gaze shifts to dad, who is now engrossed in what's happening on the TV. I seem to be standing here like a lost puppy. I came here to see dad, and he's not even paying attention to me. Michael was meant to be shy and nervous around people, and here he is talking to Clover. I feel like the odd one out right now.

Giving up, I furrow my eyebrows and sigh, knowing that no one is even noticing me, before walking over to the far end of the living room and looking out the window. Maybe if I stay here, they'll eventually notice I exist.

The scenery outside dad's home is wonderful. The fields are still visible, but there's a little hedge running alongside it, partially blocking my view of it. The front garden is small, with grass and a few flowers here and there, and a little path trailing down the centre, leading up to the front door of dad's house.

I quickly turn my head to see dad is still watching TV, and Michael is still talking and giggling with Clover. What if they like one another? They've known each other five minutes, I know, but what if they start to develop feelings for one another?

Clover is a beautiful girl, and Michael is a handsome man – I'll give him his due – so chances are, they might see that in each other. But then ... if they started a relationship, I would lose my only friend to my own seemingly long-lost cousin.

I don't want to lose my only friend; I've been waiting months to have a friend.

My thoughts are shattered with the sound of dad's voice, "Citria, darling ... " At the sound of his voice, I turn my head to see him looking at me, and he continues, "W-Would you like to come sit here with me?"

I give him a warm smile, before walking his direction, and sitting down on the arm of his chair. He reaches his hand to take mine, and looks up at me – due to the fact that I'm elevated higher than him by the chair.

"Cit ... you don't have to be jealous of those two," he says, referring to Michael and Clover.

"Jealous? I'm not jealous dad."

"Then what is it?" he asks quietly, "You've barely spoken since you arrived."

"N-No, nothing at all," I answer.

"You forget that I've been your father for twenty-five years. I know when you're feeling down."

I nod, averting my eyes down to our touching hands, "I just don't want to lose my only friend, dad. Apart from you, he's all I have."

"You won't lose him, I promise. What makes you think that?"

I inhale deeply, letting the breath out as a loud sigh, "He only ever smiles like that when he's at his happiest. Dad, he lost every single friend and every single family member he had, only two or three days ago. He's been trying to cope these past couple days. It's taking a lot to make him smile, but ... Clover seems to be doing the perfect job, just with her presence."

We both shift our gazes to Michael and Clover, and see that Clover is showing Michael photos from her purse. She keeps pointing at faces and stating who it is, only for Michael to either smile, make a comment on how cute the photos are, or join in with Clover's laughter.

"See what I mean?" I turn back to dad, "They've known each other five minutes, and they're already inseparable."

Dad chuckles, and I feel like that's the first time he's done that since mom died, "Inseparable? No, no. I'm sure Michael just needs another friend to make up for all the others he's lost. I don't blame the boy."

I knit my eyebrows together, kind of feeling like dad has a point. It could just simply be because he wants another friend, apart from me.

"Yeah ... you're right, dad." My smile grows wider, and I bend down to hug him tightly, "I love you."

"I love you too. You and Clover are all I have now, you know ... "

At this, his eyes fill with tears, which I wipe away with my jacket sleeve. I absolutely hate seeing dad upset, more than anything in this world. I hate anyone being upset, but dad especially.

"Dad ... shh ... it's okay dad. I'll never leave you okay? And neither will Clover. We're here to stay," I assure him, rubbing his arm gently to comfort him, "I promise."

He looks up at me forlornly, a frown plastered on his adorable little face, "I know ... and I'm thankful for that."

I pull away from him, and give him the most convincing smile I can possibly give. I'm fighting myself not to cry, because seeing dad cry makes me cry, too.

"Anyway, look, dad," I point at the TV, "That's your favourite show, isn't it?"

His frown becomes a small smile, "Yeah, I love it. Watch it every single day."

"Great!" I say, a little over enthusiastically, "Let's watch together, huh?" I reach over to the TV remote to turn up the TV, "There. Now you can hear it better."

*  *  *

"See you soon, dad," I smile at him, bending down to kiss his forehead, "I'll come see you again soon, I promise I will." He gives a small wave, then I walk to the front door. It's then I realise Michael hasn't followed me. I walk back into the living room, "Michael, c'mon!"

He looks up at the sound of his name, then realises we're leaving. He turns to Clover, "Until next time," he says, "I'll be seeing you." He stands up and walks over to me.

We leave the house, before beginning our walk back to my house. I'm kind of upset that Michael ignored me the entire time. Don't get me wrong, I find it great that he's found another friend, but he really didn't have to blank out everything else during the time we were there.

"Man, you were right," he starts, "Your father really is almost non-existent."

"You never spoke to him properly," I answer, "That's actually the most he's spoken in the months mom's been dead for. Clover really must cheer him up more than I ever could ... " He remains silent, probably unsure on how to answer, so I continue to talk to fill the silence, "That Clover girl seems to be the most perfect human being to ever live," I add, "You seemed to like her a lot."

Michael knits his eyebrows together, "She's a nice girl, I guess."

"You guess?" I repeat, "You blanked out everyone else just 'cause you were speaking to her." My tone is half serious, half jokey.

"I didn't, c'mon ... I didn't," he argues, almost not catching on to the fact I'm partially serious.

"Well actually, you did. I had to watch TV with dad because you were all over that girl and her purse pictures," I tease.

He senses my teasing, and chuckles softly, "Right, right."

"You like her though, dontcha?" I ask.

At this, he stops in his tracks, making me stop just as abruptly as he did. He looks at the floor, moving his hands behind his back, letting a single curl of his hair droop down over his face.

"Like her?" he asks. Then, his eyes move up, until they're looking at me, "As a friend, yeah, of course. She's a nice girl, I said that."

"Nah, you like her more than a friend," I smirk.

He doesn't answer, which to me, means he does like her more than a friend. Why this sort of makes me sad, I'm not sure. I'm totally fine with them being friends, but if he starts a relationship with her, then maybe ... he'll completely forget about me.

... I don't want my only friend to forget about me.

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Will Michael forget about Citria? Does he like Clover more than just a friend? I hope you enjoyed this chapter!