September

by Raventonguethemalice

“September seems to come and go so quick”

"September!" Michael said cheerfully, embracing his lover "I missed you."

"I missed you," September said in reply, inhaling the scent of Michael's clean scent "How is your family."

"They're fine, bitchy, but fine."

They walked hand-in-hand, down the stone lined walk away, through Central Park. It was summer now, and the trees were green, warm and inviting, full of so much life. Michael and September smiled into each other's eyes, and held onto whatever promise of forever they had.

---

September Robinson walked out the automatic supermarket doors and down the sidewalk. The autumn wind blew his dark blonde, chopped and layered hair around. He kicked at the ground, sighing as his converse’ scraped on the concrete. They had holes in them, so his skin had ended up rubbing on the stone. The day was just, “so-so”(not amazing, as September thought it should be) He decided that ,to make his day better, he would go to the little Chinese fast food place and get his ‘usual’.

The neon sign glowed bright, 'open' is what it read.
The little bell jingled overhead as September stepped in.

“Ah September, how are you today?” Mr. Po the owner said, in a very heavy Chinese accent.

“Fine-fine… I want…” He skimmed the dimly lit board above the counter.

“Your usual?” Mr. Po answered for him. September laughed, nodded, and sat down at one of the small tables.

Everything was so non ornate, when September though about his life. His mother was just ‘Plain Jane’ (even though she tried hard to get close to September and to show him love); his father was just ‘John Smith’ (he basiclly just worked, came home, and slept)it was nothing more and nothing less.

There was no one in the little Chinese food place, and September hate being alone.

There was once a time,
a few years ago,
when September was alone and he had someone to call his own.

That someone was beautiful,
that someone was Michael.

September remembered the night clearly. The light rainy mist, the nasty dirt covered roads, the poorly lit streets, and the cold, brisk, midnight air. He also remembered the phone call.

---

"September? Honey... there's been an accident..."

"What? Is everyone okay is someone hurt?"

"September... it's Michael... he… "

"No… no… please God…"

"I'm sorry baby; he died... in his car, on the way to our house..."

"I..."

September dropped the phone and curled into a ball, crying softly...

---

Even now, September’s heart ached. His mind was always distant, his thoughts nowhere to be found. September just turned 17, a week ago, and he spent his birthday crying himself to sleep in his bedroom... with his mother listening on the other side crying as well, helpless to comfort her child...

Mr. Po walked over, smiling wide, and set down a tray of food in front of September. September looked up smiling, and said, "How much?"

"It's on the house..." Mr. Po said happily. September smiled, thanked Mr. Po, and ate his lunch admiring two brown leaves that jumped off of their tree with the wind, and let it carry them away into the distance.