I don't know what Micah has told you about himself, but I'd take his words with a grain of salt. The guy is clueless. He has no sense of sense. I'm not just saying this. I've witnessed it. So, for all you who are still doubting me, let me give you an example:

One day, I was talking to him about one of the two teacher's assistants for our Physics class. It just so happened that I couldn't recall that person's name, so I went on to describe them. The conversation went something like this:

"The one with the blue jacket."

"Who?"

"With the Batman T-shirts."

"I have no idea…"

"The one who's always twiddling his thumbs."

"The perfectionist?"

"Maybe...The one who wears the beanie!"

"I'm still not sure…Do you mean the one with the inferiority complex, or the one who hates our guts?"

"I'm talking about the one who never ties his shoe laces!"

"Stop yelling at me! No one notices the stupid shoe laces!"

And, if you think that's normal, let me give you another example that took place at a bar, three minutes after a blonde bombshell left him to join her friends:

"Dude, she was totally checking you out!"

"Who?"

"The one who was just talking to you."

"Uh…"

"The one with the jean skirt?"

"Um…"

"Red shirt…ponytail…zebra nails…red heels…fishnet stockings…feel free to stop me at any time…"

"I'm still not sure…"

"Dude, she was just here!"

"Oh, you mean the angry one?"

"I don't think so. She didn't seem angry…"

"Well, then, I don't know, because I don't remember anyone else. Are you sure it wasn't the one who was trying to make her girlfriend jealous? I think she was cheated on…"

"Sure…"

It's like his vision was completely taken away. He might as well be blind. And, if none of you think this is a problem, well, I disagree. What if he gets robbed? How does he describe his assailant? "The perpetrator had bad intentions?" No shit, Sherlock.

Not that anyone would notice this airheadedness since he doesn't talk much. I sometimes wonder if he's having a competition with Rox. If so, he should give up. Rox has made silence into an art. I mean, Micah has his body under control, so he always comes off as composed and…regal?

That attitude is what's got people wrapped around his little finger. Confused? Of course you would be! I bet he hasn't spoken a word about how he sometimes talks out loud, or how once he starts laughing he can't stop, or how he worships ice cream, or how he never brushes his hair because "It's fine the way it is." I mean, sure, it is, but then he goes out of his way to straighten mine when it flies every which way.

And how about the times when he'll chuck stuff at me in the middle of the night just to piss me off? The moody bastard! I don't even know why he thinks that's funny. Hell, I don't know why I think that's funny! It's actually kind of cu-!

S-screw that! I-I didn't! Never mind…My bad. Forget the rant. Let's just get back to the wrapping finger thing. What was that about again? Oh, right! People bowing down to his highness. Like that guy on the bus who was talking to his friends and cussing up a storm about his parents. And, as he swung his arms around, he hit Micah's bookbag and everything flew out of it. But as he's handed the pens and books back to Micah, the manners no one knew he had took over. Apologies by the buttload! And all Micah had to do was smile.

He has no idea that people part like the seas when they notice him.

But, that's the key phrase here, "when they notice him." He's the walking version of Where's Waldo? He blends perfectly with the crowd.

But there's always that one person who seeks him out. Like the old lady in the grocery store who just turned around for no absolute reason, and started talking about her son. We didn't know her and, definitely not the handsome young lad two states over, and yet, there we were, listening to how he never calls. Or the server just started grunting to him about how she's trying her best to ignore the chef's romantic advances.

After too many of these incidences, I've learned to ignore the random stories as I eat/shop/use the restroom. Seriously. Micah needs to learn to be bad. Maybe then people won't get dragged in by the halo on his fucking head!

But, when I think of saints, I rarely imagine them as guys who are extremely sensitive to noise and who screech like a little girl when a bus stops at a red light and the air is released with a bang. Better yet, how many saints are like zombies? Micah might trip on a rock and fall flat on his face, but he'll calmly look at his scraped palms, wipe them on his jeans and jump right back up like it's nothing. Cool, huh? Well, try asking him a couple of minutes later why he stumbled and you might find yourself reminding him that, yes, he really did smash his face into the ground. If a Micah falls on the pavement and there is no one to witness it, did it ever even happen?

The answer is "yes," because I always witness it. And, I'm saying this because I'm not blind. I'm not. I mean, I've even…I might have…kind of seen…

That day on the couch…his left arm was exposed…I'm pretty sure he doesn't want to talk about it. He wouldn't have lied about the cooking thing back at the dorms if that weren't the case. He's wearing a jacket now. I think he might know that I know. I'm not sure if that's right. I can't ask him. But, I did some online reading. It fits. Too much emotion, the lack of his own when he's alone…He's either over-stimulated or numb…

They're a bit faded, so I'm guessing he's recovering. Honestly, that's one of the main reasons I won't bring it up. It's all in the past. There's that and the fact that…well, I'm not quite sure how to…react. He'd probably punch me if he knew that I check his arm every night, just to make sure he hasn't done something. It's upsetting and I just…I can't think about it without getting very very angry…

But what really riles me up is that fucking bitch Lesby or Lesly or whatever! Holy Firetruck! I want to throttle the she-demon! Nonstop texting and calling! She calls him up at ungodly hours and complains. That's it! No "how are you," "where are you" or "what are you doing?" No! It's all "Hey, blah blah blah, everything sucks!"And he patiently sits through it because, get this, "she's deeply troubled and needs help" and "if you knew how desperate she is, you'd never leave her alone."

Like hell! The one I can't leave alone is that stupid, stupid empath! I mean, how could I after seeing how hard he works for someone who doesn't even have the decency to give him a proper fucking hello?!

I've actually confronted him after one episode where, around 3 am, he locked himself in the restroom, in the shower, for two hours. Two hours! The economic bastard had stopped using the water half-way through! I'm guessing he just sat huddled in the tub! Do you know how nerve-wracking it was waiting outside the door, hoping he wasn't…you know…hurting himself? And, he won't listen to me! I told him, "Dump the cancer! She's eating you alive!" But, he wouldn't yield.

Did I just leave it at that?

No.

The next time she called at one in the flipping morning and he answered the phone, I let him talk for about five minutes. Then, when he had managed to give some brain-dead reply, I pulled him into my arms. I almost snickered at how he inhaled at the unexpected motion. He dropped the phone on the mattress, but quickly picked it up, apologizing and trying to convince her that it was nothing.

But, the longer they talked, the more I distracted him. I pulled him tighter and tighter into my embrace and, after one point, I slipped my cold hands under his shirt. He flinched and gasped and squirmed under the feel of my freezing fingers. Funniest fucking thing ever! But, the guy was a trooper. He wouldn't give up. So, I whispered in his ear "Turn it off."

And, for some reason, that worked. He told the she-dog that he needed to use the restroom and let her close the phone. It still pisses me off that he didn't just hang up on her, but meh! They weren't talking and he wasn't depressed. My work was done…

Or was it? That got me thinking...

Okay, so we all know I get carried away when I'm upset. Micah's punch to the face is proof enough. I still can't believe I did that...

Anyway, I've been practicing this thing where I channel my feelings. Sounds weird, right? Well, it is. And I didn't think it would work, but, guess what! It does! I've tested it!

When Micah and I were sitting on my bed reading or something, I mentally repeated "I love you." At first, I thought I was being ridiculous, because, there I was, nose shoved in my book, focusing on Micah as the words "I love you" ran through my head, and bringing up weird feelings of warmth.

But, what do you know, soon enough he lowered his book. I looked up at him and he was staring right at me with that blank look on his face. And, then he just busted out laughing. When I asked him what was up, he shook his head and crawled beside me. And, that's where he sat, big goofy grin on his face as I kept sending him that message.

And, it's almost like, as long as I send him my feelings, we don't really have to talk! How kickass is that? And, it's so funny to watch, because he just sticks to me like glue when I think positively.

One day, I took it a bit further. I had lured him in with happy thoughts and, when he got really comfortable, I forced myself to get angry. He froze, stared at me and then smiled. I thought I had failed, but he opened that pretty little mouth of his and said, "Fuck this shit! Let's go for a walk!"

And, I sat there, stunned, gaping at him, because a walk sounded perfect. It was so fascinating, that I sent a whole slew of emotions his way. At first, he reacted marvelously. But, at some point, he got up, clutching his head, and walked away. When I approached him two minutes later, he scowled at me, asking, "Are you messing with me?"

I couldn't hide my guilt and he quirked his eyebrows.

"Dude, that's fucked up," he said and tried to make me promise to never do that again.

Of course, I didn't agree.

He frowned and pouted and almost cried because the bastard knows I'm completely weak against his tears, but I didn't give in.

Still, I never sent him anything negative again. And now he sticks to me. And that's cool. I like the whole glue dynamic. And, I know that sounds weird, but there's this magnet forming in my stomach and I think I might know what it is and where it's pulling me to. I can't have any of that. And, I try to tell him why, but he doesn't want to listen. And, I don't want to tell him why, but he needs to know. He needs to know that I got this call a couple of days ago…