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[hr][sub][color=#c6583a][u][b]Location:[/b][/u][/color] ► Phi Kappa Delta House ► His Room ◄
[color=#c6583a][u][b]Interacting With:[/b][/u][/color] ► Archie [@spooner], Cornelius [@Hushed Whispers], Dante [@Dirty Pretty Lies] ◄[/sub]
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[indent]Mike was lonely, and, honestly, it was his fault entirely.

 It was his fault for finding relationships available to him disinteresting. It was his fault he preferred the company men to women. It was his fault he was still squarely packed away inside the closet, unready to leap forward with that all-encompassing "I'm Gay!" statement. It was his fault that he was lonely, because cowardice was often not rewarded with the love and affection those who hide crave. Mike contemplated his loneliness in bed, tucked up to his chin in a mountain of blankets as he heard the distant gulls and chirps of seabirds and sparrows. It was about five in the morning, and the others were still asleep, leaving the PKD house drenched in uncharacteristic silence. Silence gave way to thoughts, thoughts gave way to wishes. Mike wished he wasn't lonely, closed his eyes, and then opened them just as quickly to find his situation the same as it was every day.

In a few hours, he would have to be awake and normal for the back to school bonfire on the beach. Right now, he was free to toss and turn and imagine a life like the other boys in the house had.

When did he become so fucking sentimental? 

The house around him offered no solace for his troubles, but the familiarity made him feel whole. His loneliness was lesser surrounded by men who offered a semblance kinship. Some of them would understand him. If he really wanted this part of him free, Mike could just say it. Everything didn't have to be hidden. But... Was it really needed, in the end? Would they care? Would it change who he was, what he stood for?

Maybe another time, another day. He could stand the dark for a while longer.

Mike shuffled and rolled and sighed as the dawn turned into a sticky, sweaty morning. His phone had been checked at least three hundred times between the hours of five and nine a.m., and he made no noise until he heard the telltale screams and slams of men waking from a late night. Mike stayed in bed a while longer, listening to these familiar noises as if they would shoo away his doubts and actless thoughts. The Mississippi fall was still legions away, and as he turned to stare out his window he saw the blue skies and tiny clouds of a sweltering summer day. Septemeber be damned; this heat wave was bound to last until the first few days of October. Mike couldn't find any real anger about that, though. He loved the sun. It did wonders to stave away his seasonal depression.

Mike sat up eventually and stretched, pushing away his mountain of blankets and pillows to welcome in the cool breeze from his table-side fan. Getting ready went like this; shower, shave, style, stare at the closet for about forty minutes until he found something worth putting on. Sunshine, blue skies, and sandy beaches meant tropical prints and self-altered shorts. Down the hall, he could hear Archer's cries of perversion, probably being directed towards a certain properly-named fuckboy, and there were no signs of their president's megaphone yet. All in all, it sounded like a nice time to escape his dark room and socialize for a bit.

He drifted like a ghost through the fraternity house, tiptoeing around still quiet rooms as he descended the stairs and stole away a protein bar from the kitchen. He munched on it quickly and managed to finish it while quickly leafing through one of the history textbooks he had left on the island counter. The chapter divulged some gory details onto the story of William the Conqueror, and Mike couldn't help but think of it as some sort of premonition for how the rest of the day was bound to go. Maybe he was just paranoid. Maybe it's Maybelline. He closed the textbook, threw the wrapper away and found himself on the front steps in a matter of minutes.

Archer's car was already rumbling and cooling down. He saw the leg of Dante entering the passenger seat and the back of Cornelius' bowed head standing just beyond the car's bumper.

[color=#c6583a]"Morning, bro."[/color] Mike said as he bound over to Cornelius and gave him a hearty slap on the back. [color=#c6583a]"Sexting already, man? The girls just can't get enough of you."[/color] He laughed, careless and free and teasing, and shot Cornelius a thumbs up before walking up next to Archer's car door. He pounded his fist against the roof, hard enough to rattle the wipers, and grinned from ear to ear as he saw his best friend behind the wheel.

[color=#c6583a]"'Sup Archie, Dante."[/color] Mike said once the window was rolled down, [color=#c6583a]"Wanna race to the beach today? I really wanna burn some rubber."[/color] His own car was parked by the curb, looking small compared to some of the other jeeps and trucks in the area. His cherry-red Pontiac (aptly named Cherry Bomb) was about thirty-two years older than him and often smelled like gasoline and rotten leather when turned on, but it was the love of his life, and one of the few gifts he'd ever received from his father. Even if it was a crappy hand me down-- at least now it was his. 

[color=#c6583a]"Bet I'll win this time."[/color] He challenged, eyes glittering behind bright-red framed sunglasses.[/indent]