True Affection

[Kermit]

((Michael's brain continued from Just Dropped In (To See What Condition My Condition Is In)))


First, some dirt. He had his sources.

Michael knew he'd gotten three votes for prom king. Honestly, it was two more votes than he was expecting to get.

He knew one of the votes was from himself. He knew one was from Morgan.

Then there was a third mystery vote. Michael didn't know who it was. He'd assumed it was just a meme vote from someone.

Now he realized it wasn't.


Second, the memory. Relegated to the back of his mind until now.

Prom. Waiting in the line to vote for royalty.

He'd been standing behind Beryl. Peeked over — well, not over, but around — her shoulder. Curious. Tried to see her ballot.

Caught the letters E S E.

He'd assumed it was someone else's name but now...

He knew 100% he was the only person in the senior class with those letters, in that specific order, in their name. He knew everyone's names. He knew Darlene's name, for fuck's sake.

It was him. It had to be him. He saw that now.

Beryl had voted for him.

She wasn't the kind of person to meme vote.



And there was the answer.

She'd liked him, probably.

In retrospect it was obvious. He'd seen her making those eyes at him. He'd always just assumed she was just, like, looking at him for fun or whatever.

Now he realized it had been the same look she'd always given Nick and Tristan and Sierra and all of those people. It wasn't how she looked at Jeremiah or Alexander.

...and he hated himself for missing it until now.

He'd never felt so close. He'd never felt so alone.


Beryl was dead and there was nothing he could do about it. She'd managed to die as herself and Michael had managed to live long enough to become an obsessive, occasionally drug-addled murderer. The person he'd become didn't deserve her, not anymore.

He'd been this close to maybe influencing events enough so that she wouldn't have been shot by Darlene, but...

...he'd missed his chance. Random chance had intervened. It always did.


The game at Phillip's place. The same memory from earlier in the morning.

Beryl had smiled.

"Me and you." she had said.

She had passed the dice back to Michael.

Michael had rolled a five.

"I win." she had said. She got to be the game master or whatever.

Then she rolled the dice again.

"Game's over." she had said. Then she was gone.


Michael really understood now.

Their oscillations had always been the slightest bit out of sync. Always out of each other's leagues. If the kidnapping hadn't happened, Michael'd probably have just grown up to be some jaded, depressed university professor, and Beryl'd have gone to Arizona State or whatever and Michael would have never talked to her again.

They'd be together when they were both dead and only then. It had always been that way.


He was done with being obsessed. He'd become so selfish. He wasn't a monster, but... he knew he wasn't still a good person. The fact that it had taken him this long to see the way he was thinking was unhealthy made him feel kind of disturbed, but...

...at least he was able to see it. At least it made him feel disturbed. That was a good thing, right?


The mourning process had started anew for him.

No longer lust. No longer selfish love.

Now it was love. Love for real this time.

Now he was mourning for the real Beryl.

Not Beryl the ideal. Not Beryl the myth. Not the person Michael became when he was with Beryl.

He mourned for Beryl the person.


If you love something, set it free.

He had to let Beryl go. No matter how much it hurt him inside, he had to let her go.

It was the only thing he could ever do for her.


Closure really did sound like nothing at all. It was the only sound it could make.

In life, death was the only closure. The only way to end a story.

It sucked.

There wasn't much anyone could do about it, though.


Too little too late. Always too little too late.

Story of his goddamn life.

He'd try to change that.


He was ambitious when giving up.

((Michael's brain continued in the post where it came from))