#the way he's showing the kid how to steer the 'race car' 😭

[leqclerc]

Charles Leclerc for Sky Wifi [x]

[7-wonders]

how long did we know mad love!michael before the kidnapping? also how would you describe our first time meeting? 😭🤍

STFU I'VE BEEN WAITING YEARS FOR SOMEONE TO ASK ME THIS I'M SO EXCITED!

So you knew Michael for only a couple of months before the incident where the butcher was stabbed and he was taken to Hawthorne. After his abrupt disappearance, you don't see him for about five months. Three of those months are because you're back home for summer break (summer between your sophomore and junior year), but it was still odd to not see him at all in May or September when you had been seeing him weekly for two months straight.

Now for the meeting...

•••

God, you really hate grocery shopping at normal hours. Most of the time, you only go grocery shopping with your friends at random, late-night hours, where you can feel comfortable surrounded by all the other weirdos and college kids who are slightly nocturnal. Grocery shopping during the day, on the other hand, feels as though you're being hunted for sport. Dodging screaming kids and judgmental mothers, fitness influencers and senior citizens, is one of your worst nightmares.

But you just had to forget that you had enthusiastically said you were going to make cupcakes for your weekly get-together with your friends where you all watch the new episode of your collective favorite show. The weekly get-together that just so happens to be tonight. Considering you don't have the ingredients to make cupcakes or the frosting with which to top them, you're on a time crunch that necessitates a daytime visit to the grocery store.

Regardless of how much you hate it, your poor planning has led you here, so you have no choice but to suck it up and make it as quick of a trip as possible. A basket is clutched tightly in your hands as you anxiously dart out of the way of one of those carts configured to be a race car before they run you over. The carton of eggs slides precariously in the near-empty basket, but remains safe. Safe, that is, until you turn into the baking supplies aisle without looking and crash into someone's back.

"Oh shit, I'm so sorry!" you apologize profusely, shame heating your ears and making you wish the ground would swallow you whole. The poor person you nearly bowled over turns around, and you immediately relax when they do. "Ms. Mead!"

Ms. Mead is one of the weirdos that normally does her grocery shopping late at night. There's 'rumors' that she's a Satanist, though you don't know if you can call it a rumor said person the rumor is about wears a pentagram and regularly talks about the recent sermon at the Satanic Temple. Your friends like to steer clear of her when they see her, but you think she's badass, with her all-black wardrobe, dark lipstick, cropped hair, and 'fuck everybody' attitude.

"I wasn't watching where I was going, are you—" she waves off your concerns.

"Don't worry about me, I'm not some daisy that's blown over by a stiff breeze."

You grin, loving the way that she speaks. "Still, I'm sorry."

"You shouldn't be. Take pride in your actions! Don't apologize to anybody for anything!" You're surprised she doesn't launch into a sermon, something that she's done a couple times when talking to you before. "Where's your gaggle of friends? Hiding from me again?"

"It's just me here today. Forgot that I promised I was gonna make cupcakes for everyone tonight." She peeks into your basket, and you're sure that she's silently judging the Funfetti frosting that you had grabbed on the way in. "I'm surprised to see you here so early! Don't you always say that you get the best meat and produce by shopping late at night?"

"I do, but—" Her attention is drawn to someone over your shoulder. "There you are! Did you find it?"

You're not one to believe in cliches or stupid, cheesy romance. But when you turn around to see a tall, lanky boy around your age whose grunge wardrobe and Docs contrasts his golden curls, you think that you feel your heart skip a beat. His eyes, a pretty shade of light blue, nervously dart up from the ground to Ms. Mead.

"Uh, I think so?" He holds up a loaf of bread that Ms. Mead must have asked him to grab, and she nods approvingly.

"Good, toss it in the cart." Ms. Mead smirks when she notices how Michael stops in his tracks when he looks at you, his breath hitching in his throat as he tries to stand up straighter. "I don't think you two have met yet! Y/n, this is Michael. Michael's staying with me for a few months."

His eyes meet yours, and when they do, you can't help but smile. God, he's cute. "Hi, Michael. It's nice to meet you."

Michael bites his lip, raising an arm to run a hand through his hair. "N-nice to meet you too."

You both just stare at each other for a long moment, dopey grins on your faces. Finally, you snap out of it when your phone buzzes in your pocket. "Uh, I should get going. I don't wanna be late."

Ms. Mead places a hand on Michael's shoulder and squeezes gently. "You do that. It was good seeing you."

"Yeah, nice to see you too." You look at Michael one more time, eyes dropping to your basket when you see he's already looking at you. "Bye."

You turn on your heel and leave, not stopping until you're on the other side of the store. Once you are, you stop and place a hand over your racing heart. Get a grip, you tell yourself. You see one cute, shy guy with golden retriever energy and immediately crush on him? Ridiculous. It was one thirty-second interaction, after all.

Still, as you enjoy the fruits of your labor later that night sitting with your friends and dissecting what you just watched on TV, you can't help but think of the way a soft blush dusted his high cheekbones when you said his name, or how sweet he seemed to be. Maybe you'll start going grocery shopping during the day, after all.