GIBSIE
DECEMBER 4TH, 2004

I DECIDED TO USE THE FRONT DOOR THIS TIME. It was the middle of the day, so I figured it wouldn't cause any problems. Michelle's mam answered, clearly shocked to see me. We had met a couple days ago, and it was probably one of the most awkward moments in my life.

"Gerard? Is it?" She asked, hugging the door to her hip.

I nodded "yeah." As much as I didn't like it, I didn't correct her and tell her to call me Gibsie like everyone else.

"You lookin' for Ella?"

"my mom calls me Ella"

I nodded again, and repeated "yeah."

"Good. She's been driving me crazy since six in the morning." She pulled the door farther open and gestured me inside. "I'll show you the way." She said, clearly not knowing I've been in this house almost a hundred times before.

I nodded for the third time. "Thanks."

I had no idea what to say to this woman. Which was weird, 'cause usually I knew exactly what I wanted to say and most of the time it was some sort of joke—probably inappropriate.

But for some reason, I didn't want this woman to hate me. I didn't like the idea of her rolling her eyes every time she saw me like most peoples parents.

"The moment Ella woke up this morning she was dragging me off to the store. Said it was too important to wait and she needed the stuff now." Michelle's mam laughed as she led me up the stairs "I was worried she was trying to meet a dealer or something. Turns out she just needed paint."

"Paint?" I wasn't aware she liked to paint.

"Yeah. She said it was very important that she gets a specific shade of blue-grey. She had been up all night googling the shade apparently." Mrs. Buckley said as we went up the last few steps. "I could've swore her favorite color was green, but now she's suddenly obsessed with blue."

The hallways that led to Michelle's room was a mess. There were things piled by the walls trailing down the whole hallway. I recognize all of the stuff laying on the floor as Michelle's things.

Why were they in the hallway?

We stopped in front of Michelle's door and her mam knocked five times before slowly opening the door. "Ella? Your friend is here." Her mam peaked her head through the opening in the door, making her way further into her room.

Now that the door was open I could hear a song playing from her radio that I didn't know.

"Friend?" I heard Michelle's confused voice from somewhere in the room. "What friend?"

"This one." Mrs. Buckley pointed at me as we walked down the short hallway into Michelle's room so that she could see us.

Michelle was standing in one corner of her room. Everything that wasn't in the hallway was pushed into the center of the room, which worried me for a second, but then I noticed the large paint roller in her hand.

She was painting her room?

Michelle spun towards us, her eyes slightly wide. Her hair was clipped in a half-attempt at a bun, she was wearing a black shirt I had never seen before that had a small rip at the bottom and was splattered in tiny white-ish stars, along with a pair of neon orange shorts.

"Gerard?" Her eyes flickered towards the wide open window as if questioning me why I didn't just climb through her window like usual.

"Michelle." I half-smiled, glancing around her room—which was a complete mess. "You're painting your room?"

She looked down at the paint roller in her hands "Yep."

"Cool." It felt weird talking to her with her mam practically breathing down my back.

As if reading my thoughts, her mam clapped her hands together. "Alright, I'm going to finish making lunch—Gerard, should I be expecting you?"

Before I could answer, Michelle practically jumped "yes."

"Yes?" I turned over to the girl in the corner with a questioning look.

"Yes." She repeated. "Because you are going to help me paint my room, so I can't just let you starve."

"You want me to help you?" That didn't seem like very good idea.

Michelle nodded, "absolutely."

"Alright." Her mam looked between us suspiciously, her eyes lingering on mine for a moment before landing on the wall. "Well, leave the door open."

"Yes ma'am." Michelle nodded, watching as her mam walked out of the room, leaving her door wide open.

"I don't know why parents say that." Michelle broke the silence immediately. "'Leave the door open' Like that would actually stop anyone."

I furrowed my eyebrows, "Are you speaking from experience?"

Michelle laughed, "No—Not mine, at least." Then she bent down, grabbing another paint roller off of the ground beside her and tossing it to me, not even taking a second to warn me of the action.

"Here." She turned back to the wall she had been painting. "I've been expecting you and I was hoping you would help me—turns out my room is a lot bigger than I thought."

I spun the pain roller in my hands "you were hoping I'd help or you knew I wouldn't say no?"

The smirk on her lips was a good enough answer for me.

"I mean, you could totally ditch me if you want." She said, glancing over at me before slightly shrugging and adding "but then I'll probably be up all night painting, which means you should probably find another sleepover buddy. Like Johnny."

I felt myself laugh—It was a quick but a full chest kind of laugh. "Are you blackmailing me?"

Michelle turned back to glare at me "No!" For a second I thought she was genuinely offended, but I didn't fail to notice the smile that was fighting its way onto her lips. "I would never do that sort of thing Gerard Gibson." She placed a hand on her chest. "How dare you accuse me of such a thing?"

I let out a loud—and very dramatic sigh. "You're right. I'm a monster." I fought back my smile as I continued. "I guess that means you won't want to see me again, so I should probably go back home." I made my way towards the window "Maybe Claire will let me start sleeping with her again."

Half-way through November I had brought up the fact that from the ages of seven to fourteen I had spent—most—nights in Claire Biggs bed to Michelle. Mainly because it felt wrong to hide it from her, but also because I wanted to tell her. So I wasn't just dropping some bomb on Michelle just to tease her.

Michelle's glare immediately landed on me. "You climb out that window and I'll kiss Johnny."

And I was stopping.

Not just because there was actually a part of me that doesn't doubt that she would actually do it, it was also because I'm not exactly sure he would stop her.

I mean, I get why, Michelle wasn't just an average random hot girl, she was also beautiful. Like, eye catching, jaw dropping, mind stopping sort of beautiful.

I completely understand why so many people have been trying to get with her.

When I turned back to face the girl, I saw the huge smile on her face.

She may have thought she was being funny, but she had no idea how many beats my heart skipped when she said that.

"Ha!" I fake laughed "that's so funny Michelle."

She only laughed.

I'm not exactly sure how long it took to paint the room, but by the time we were done the sky had gotten dark. Now as I laid sprawled out across Michelle's bed and she sat by the end, her legs crossed, we examined our hard work.

"I think we did good." I mumbled, my face buried in her pillow.

"Yeah?" She asked. I could practically hear the frown in her voice.

I rolled onto my back, then pulled myself up so that I was sitting beside her. She was looking around her room—specially at the walls, her eyebrows knitted together and her lips turned down into a pout.

"What's wrong?" I dropped my head onto her shoulder. Instead of looking around at the walls like she was, I kept my eyes trailed on her face. "Do you want to paint it back to green?"

If she said yes, I would 100% do it.

Michelle shook her head "No. that's not it." Her eyes narrowed slightly. "I'm not sure if it's the right shade."

Then her eyes fell to the floor for a second before she practically jumped in a circle to look at me. The moment her eyes landed on mine, her frown was replaced by a bright smile.

I don't know what I did, but I want to do it again.

"No." She shook her head again. "it's the right shade." This time when she looked back at the walls she was smiling.

I narrowed my eyes as I watched the girl admire her newly painted walls. I don't know why she wanted to change it or what made her choose this specific shade of blue, but it seemed to make her really happy.

Then the song on the radio changed and she immediately jumped up, claiming her hands just once "Oh my god!" Somehow—though it didn't seem possible—the song made her happier.

I recognized this song.

Michelle spun around, holding her hand out for me. "Dance with me."

What? "You really want to dance with me again?" I figured the only reason she was actually willing to dance with me last night was because I had been begging for nearly an hour and she was getting annoyed.

"Of course," She said like the question I asked was stupid. "Why wouldn't I?"

It seemed like she might have actually wanted an answer to that, but I didn't have one. The only reason I could think of was that most people get annoyed of me after just spending five minutes with me, I just wasn't gonna tell her that.

I don't want to make her sad.

Instead of answering her, I grabbed her hand and pushed myself off of her bed. "Alright" I sighed as if I didn't actually want to do this even though I was actually overjoyed that she asked me.

Michelle smiled brighter, pulling me closer. She kept our hands tangled together as she placed her free one on my shoulder and I wrapped mine around her waist.

Desperate to distract my mind from how close she was to me, I started talking. "I know this song." I noted.

She didn't give me any context besides "yes you do."

"This was the song on your radio when I came to see you the day you got back," I could remember exactly what was happening. "In November."

Michelle nodded, with a small hum "Do you remember the name?"

Of course I remember the name.

She told me.

I remember everything she tells me.

"Yellow." Like the color.

"Yeah." She nodded again.

Were we whispering?

"You want to know something funny?" Michelle dropped her head against my chest.

"Yeah."

"I can't hear this song without thinking of you anymore."

"Why?"

She shrugged "I don't know. Multiple reasons, I guess."

"Can I hear one?"

Michelle pulled her head up—despite the fact that she just put it down—the same look in her eyes that she had last night. The same look that made my heart skip dozens of beats.

She raised her hand from my shoulder and lifted it up to lightly pull on a strand of my hair "your hair." Then her hand fell to my face and her thumb slid across my cheek "and just you."

AUTHOR TALKS!!
I spent almost a hour the other night googling for that damn shade of blue oml. I used my sister's eyes for an example ('cause she has very Silvery-grey eyes) and the closest I could come up with was upward grey-Blue.
This is what I went with.

It was either that or Manor blue. They are very similar, but manor blue is a little bluer then upward.

It's okay if you don't agree and think that it should be a different color, just pretend that's what it is. I probably won't mention the exact shade that often.