A Tricky Gray Area - PrologueAuthor:
I've gone a little insane and I'm actually writing what is going to be an almost-full-length book about Michael and Lindsay. This is the prologue. I'll post part one sometime around September. Part one covers 1983-1987 (ages 14-18), part two covers 1987-2003 (the end of part one to when the show starts), and part three covers 2003-present (what happened in the show, some scenes in between, and a little extra at the end). It's going to alternate between Michael and Lindsay's points of view.Disclaimer:
I don't own any of these characters. No copyright infringement is intended.Rating:
"Closer to You" - The WallflowersNotes:
In case you didn't catch it, the title is a reference to George Michael's sign at the Dangerous Cousins protest in "The Righteous Brothers" that said "This is a tricky gray area."
Lindsay sat cross-legged on the floor of the living room of the model home across from her brother, who was leaning against the couch, clutching a bottle of vodka.
“Listen,” she said, putting her hand on Michael’s knee. Her words were slurred from the seven drinks she’d just had. “You’re a great guy, and if she doesn’t see that, then someone else will.”
“You know what else, Lindsay, you’re great,” Michael said thickly, pouring himself another drink. “And I’m gonna move some money around if it’s gonna help you get out of debt, you know, I’d be happy to do that.”
“Yeah, the hell with mom, and here,” he said, raising his glass. “Mom’s never gonna between us again.”
“Yeah,” Lindsay agreed, clinking her glass with his. She looked up at him and smiled. She couldn’t remember the last time they had talked like this. “It’s really nice living with you again,” she said. Michael looked up at her, surprised. He smiled warmly at her.
“It’s nice having you here,” he said.
Lindsay smiled back at him, then looked away, surprised by the sudden emotion she felt. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed this. She twisted the hem of her skirt around her finger, trying to sort through her thoughts. She wished she hadn’t drunk so much.
“It feels kinda like high school,” she said. She looked up at him and watched him closely to see his reaction.
“Yeah, kind of,” he said. He looked a little nervous. Her heart beat faster. She watched him lean his head back against the couch and close his eyes.
“We were so close then,” she said, trying to keep her voice casual.
“Yeah,” he said. She could hear the apprehension in his voice. She hesitated.
“A little too close,” she said teasingly.
Michael opened his eyes. He lifted his head from the couch and stared at her. She smirked at the look on his face. He laughed uncomfortably and looked down at the floor. “Yeah,” he agreed. He shook his head and laughed again, still not meeting her eyes. “I thought we were pretending that never happened.”
“Oh, sorry,” she said jokingly. “I think it’s been long enough now.”
“Yeah, I guess,” he said hesitantly. “No, it hasn’t. It will never be long enough.” He said it like a joke but she could tell that he meant it.
“Okay, okay, I got it,” she laughed. “I won’t bring it up again.”
“Thanks,” he said gratefully.
She sighed and lay down on the floor. “I’m too tired to go upstairs. I’m just gonna sleep here.”
Michael raised his eyebrows. “On the floor?”
“Yeah, on the floor,” she said, stretching out her arms.
“You know, there’s a couch right there,” he pointed out.
“Ugh, fine,” she groaned, sitting up and getting unsteadily to her feet. She tripped and fell against the wall, causing the light fixture to fall off and hit the floor with a crash.
“Whoa,” Michael said, getting up to help her. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her up. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, turning to face him. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw how close he was. They looked at each other for a moment, surprised to find themselves there. His face turned red and he let go of her and stepped back. She looked away, feeling confused.
“Sorry about the light,” she said awkwardly.
“It’s fine, happens all the time,” he said, not meeting her eyes.
They stood there, an uncomfortable silence hanging between them. “Well, I’m going to sleep,” she said abruptly. She staggered to the couch and collapsed on it.
“Yeah, me too,” he said, turning away and walking out of the room.
“Good night,” she called after him.
“Good night,” he said without looking back. She rolled onto her side and closed her eyes, her head aching. She listened to the sound of his footsteps on the stairs. Her heart was still beating fast. She tried to sift through the emotions spinning around her brain as it gradually slowed down, but she quickly gave up and let herself drift off to sleep.