just four weeks II . ۫ ꣑ৎ .
𑣲⋆ summary : as the first week of camp settles in, you begin to find your footing among the chaos and unlikely friendships. but one honest conversation changes the way michael sees you, leaving him silently promising himself to pay closer attention to you.
⊹ ࣪ ˖ late 70s camp counsellor!michael x camp counsellor!reader
warnings : mention of readers dad passing, mentions of drunk driving
a/n : sorry this lowkey took a minute. slow burn is cooking lads be prepared next chapter will be litty lesgoooo *everyone cheers* also this was been proof read but it’s also 1am so i feel like it probably didn’t do shit
at first, things did become slightly overwhelming for you—the amount of names you had to learn, schedules and times to memorise, making sure no kids were hurting themselves or others.
it definitely was a lot. yet somehow, it gradually became easier, everything not feelin so unfamiliar anymore.
you got used to the sharp whistle every morning at six o’clock sharp, dragging yourself out of bed and throwing on the familiar ‘staff’ shirt you shared with the others, groans and complaints erupting from the cabin mates—mary especially, the breakfast you all shared in the dining hall with atleast one of yous always finding something to complain about.
the four of you were starting to get closer and closer with the blur of the passing days. however, michael still kept himself reserved. he definitely wasn’t as quiet as the beginning as the week, but he wasn’t as outspoken as the others either.
at breakfast if someone made a funny joke he’d just laugh along with the rest of yous, or if someone asked him something, he’d answer—but that was the most of it.
nevertheless, when you and michael went to your shared group three, he was like a whole new individual—laughing and teasing the kids, him being the one cracking jokes. it was almost was like he was in his essence, being able to be himself when he was with the kids.
unfortunately for you, that meant the kids favoured michael over you—constant reminders from them bickering with each other about who’s team michael would be in, and still you didn’t mind. it was nice to see michael so cheerful, giggling shyly as they’d argue.
as the days rolled past, you both progressively grew closer—yous weren’t best friends, but you slowly began to learn more about each other. such as how michael hums under his breath when he’s focused, which he later confessed were demos for an album he was working on in his free time which you were incredibly supportive of. or your struggle with friends and how you came to camp to try find new ones, to which he promised to keep in contact after the camp ended as he found relatability in your struggle.
and best believe the kids still hadn’t left you two alone, continuing to press how you two were ‘so in love’ with each other no matter how much you’d denied it—it was inevitable at this point.
its just kids being kids, right?
the squeaky whistle echoed through the fatigued summer air, earning low groans from the four of you—maybe you were getting as used to it as you hoped.
“i’ve regretted a lot of things in life, but this is slowly rising up the list,” eric remarked lethargically, throwing an arm over his eyes in a lazy attempt to block out the sunlight that seemed through the windows.
“yeah, with you on that one,” mary agreed, burying herself deeper into the mattress below.
“really? i’m havin’ a decent time,” michael added, sitting upright on his bunk, leaning slightly on the wall behind him.
“of course you are,” you chimed in, squinting slightly from sleep.
michael smiled, eyes furrowed slightly in playfully confusion. “what’s that supposed to mean?” he chuckles lightly, looking at you directly across the room.
mary asked you a few days ago to swap top bunk with her because she ‘couldn’t trust herself not to fall off’ and she was always ‘too tired to climb up the ladder’ which meant you and michael now both shared top bunks across the room from eachother.
as weird as it may sound, you sometimes would watch as he’d sleep—not in the way a disturbed person would, you’d just watch the way his chest would rise slowly and come back down. it comforted you somehow. how? you don’t know, it just did. maybe it was just the way it helped you acknowledge it’s late and it’s time to get some rest. maybe it was something deeper—but you didn’t have the energy to explore that at the moment, your main priority not to be driven insane by the swarm of eleven year olds screaming at you on the daily.
“we should probably get up, if we’re late to breakfast again they’ll probably tie us to a tree or something,” eric concludes, throwing his legs over the bed and standing up slowly.
“that’s slightly excessive, eric,” michael countered as he descended down the ladder that looked like it could possibly collapse in the next passing second.
“is it though? mrs. johnston scares the shit out of me.”
you and michael were soon given the schedule of the day, the main activity consisting of a canoeing race between the kids.
“right, do you all have your life jackets on?” michael orders, scanning over the kids with precision—he took his role very seriously, especially now that he’d become their favourite.
the kids erupt in unison with a range of nods and ‘yeah’s before rushing over to the dock of the lake.
some fellow counsellors had helped with bring the canoes over the side of the dock and helping the campers settle into the seat comfortably and safely.
you nibbled at your bottom lip before turning to michael beside you. “i really don’t have a good feeling about this…”
he laughs in return. “they’ll be fine, i’m sure they’ve done this before,” he assured with a smile which earned him a skeptic look from you, causing his smile to falter slightly.
the races quickly dissolved into exactly the kind of chaos you should’ve expected from a group of eleven year olds.
the original plan had been simple enough—pair them up, send them across the lake, have them paddle around the floating marker, then race back to shore. in theory, it sounded organized, simple enough. but in practice, half the campers were treating it like an olympic sport whilst the other half seemed more interested in splashing their competitors than actually winning.
the lake stretched wide, glittering beneath the late morning sun, small ripples catching the light every time a paddle sliced through the water. shouts echoed across the shoreline as canoes zigzagged in every possible direction. one group was arguing over whose turn it was to steer, another somehow managing to rotate completely sideways.
you stood near the edge of the dock with your arms folded, watching the disaster unfold with growing concern.
“are they supposed to be going that way?” you asked.
beside you, michael squinted toward the middle of the lake. “…no.”
a brief pause was held between you two before you spoke again. “should we stop them?”
another pause soon followed.
you glanced at him, eyebrows slightly raised. “no?”
“they’re headed towards canada.”
“they’ll figure it out before then.”
the campers continued shouting at one another across the water, convinced they were engaged in a fierce competition despite the fact that nobody seemed entirely sure where the finish line was anymore.
for a few peaceful minutes, everything seemed relatively under control before a scream erupted from somewhere in the lake.
your entire body immediately tensed, stomach tightening in worry.
a canoe near the middle of the lake tipped sharply to one side. for a split second it teetered there, balancing precariously as two boys flailed around trying to correct themselves until the canoe flipped completely over—a huge splash erupting across the surface of the water.
you were already taking a step forward before michael’s voice cut through your panic, placing his arm infront of your chest to prevent you from moving any further.
the complete lack of concern in his tone was almost alarming. you turned toward him, staring at the side of his face in complete disbelief at the absence of worry he withheld.
“someone just fell into the lake.”
“i know. it was elliott.”
“and what does that mean? you don’t wanna save elliott?” concern laced your tone as you push his arm away to move further down the dock whilst michael didn’t even flinch from where he was standing.
“‘cause he falls in every day.”
you stared at him blankly. “…every day?”
“every day.” he nodded. the certainty in his voice somehow made it even more ridiculous.
“you can’t possibly know that.”
michael shrugged. “i watched him fall in yesterday… and the day before that.”
“okay? that doesn’t mean—”
a wet head suddenly burst through the surface of the water—elliott emerging, grinning from ear to ear whilst surrounding canoes immediately erupted into laughter—one kid almost dropping his paddle with another chanting elliott’s name, elliot himself looking delighted by the entire experience.
michael pointed, his lips tightening into a sharp line. “y’see?”
you looked from the lake to him, then back to the lake. “…every day?”
the fact that he had apparently been keeping track made you laugh, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he heard it—almost amused as he found the situation as ridiculous as you did.
the kids were completely useless now, sense of competition having vanished with some of them trying to help elliott back into the canoe and the remaining few cheering proudly.
“alright. elliott, back in the boat. everybody else stop celebrating,” you announced, wagging an affirmative finger that suddenly reminded you of your mother, immediately making you put it down.
unsurprisingly, no one listened—dozens of voices immediately starting to talk over one another.
you opened your mouth to try again yet before you could, michael stepped forward and cupped his hands around his mouth.
the entire lake went silent, slowly diverting their gaze to the man on the dock. elliott briefly freezing as he met his hard gaze.
“back in the canoe,” michael ordered, his soft voice somehow growing deep and strict.
“y— yeah, okay!” he nodded eagerly, using all his might to get himself back in, his friends actively helping pull him in.
the response came instantly from the kid, causing you to look at michael in disbelief, confusion and shock evident in your expression to which he shrugged with a frown. “learned volume helps.”
within minutes everybody was moving again, the race soon resuming—sort of…, at least they were all heading in approximately the same direction now. as the canoes drifted farther from shore, you found yourself automatically scanning the water for potential problems—one kid dropped his paddle, another canoe was drifting off course, the pair of boys inhabiting said canoe starting to arguing again.
you spotted the argument first—hard not to when their voices echoed all across the lake. before you could say nor do anything, michael was already grabbing one of the spare paddles from the dock.
“uh-huh.” he agreed under his breath as he started walking toward the shoreline.
“they’re about thirty seconds away from trying to hit each other with those.”
“exactly what i was thinking,” you giggle slightly as you tracked his move, him slowly moving further away from the dock.
“i know,” he nods casually, squinting to get a better view of the lake.
a week ago, neither of you would have known what the other was thinking, and now you could almost predict each other’s reactions before either of you spoke.
you liked growing closer with michael. he was easy to talk to, easygoing. don’t get me wrong, you loved eric and mary, but michael was different. like a breath of fresh air away from all the chaos.
the races shortly ended after that. they were supposed to go on until lunch time but you and michael both telepathically agreed that neither of you had the mental capacity nor the energy to do that. instead, you sat the campers down on an area of grass that sat near the dock, allowing them to talk amongst themselves until the bell for lunch rang
“and then— and then she told me my hair was a mess. honestly, where do they find the audacity?” mary continues to rant, chewing roughly at the ham sandwich in her hand.
“well… it isn’t neat,” michael contributed, absentmindedly staring at the frizzy ‘ponytail’ atop her head.
eric chokes on the water he was drinking, causing it to spray all over you who was unfortunately sitting opposite him.
you gasp, holding your arms out in shock before blinking a couple times. michael stifled a laugh, quickly covering his mouth with his hand and squeezing his eyes painfully shut. you snap you head towards him with a glare, him meeting your gaze, eyes slightly crinkled from smiling beneath his hand. you shortly turn back infront of you.
“thank you, eric. you know, i really think i’ve had enough of the water today,” you announce before abruptly standing up and storming away to the bathroom, beginning to feel overwhelmed after all the prior chaos of the morning catching up to you.
you let out an exasperated sigh as soon as you stepped into the bathroom, walking over to the towel dispensers and pulling a few sheets out to pat yourself dry from the mixture of what was probably water and eric’s saliva.
a quiet knock sounds through the small room. turning around quickly you’re met with a door lightly opened with michael’s head peering out, offering a small smile on his face.
“hey…” he begins cautiously, eyebrows slightly knitted together concern. “you okay?” his voice sounded sincere, his soft tone echoing in your ears.
“why wouldn’t i be?” you question, slightly chuckling as you continue to wipe the spray of droplets off your arms.
“i just— i thought you might’ve been a little overwhelmed. you didn’t talk much at lunch and i know the canoe situation didn’t exactly leave you relaxed afterward.”
the fact that michael went out of his way to excuse himself from the table and make his way over to the bathroom, where he’d know you’d be, and checking in on you as well as had kept an eye on you beforehand left a warm feeling in yourself that you couldn’t quite point out. he was just being a good friend, checking up on his counsellor buddy before they had to go back out to the chaotic swarm of squeals and bickers.
“no, no. i’m— i’m good… but thank you, i appreciate the concern.”
he gives you a light nod, flashing a quick smile before turning around and heading back to the table where everyone was beginning to put their trays away.
as you stepped back out, slightly damp sprinkles of water still evident on your shirt, you find yourself immediately looking at michael.
from where you stood, michael moved around the dining hall with the same quiet efficiency he seemed to have for everything. after checking on you before, he didn’t lingered or made a big fuss out of it—he simply went back to what he was doing, collecting trays and stacking them neatly where they belonged.
the sunlight streaming through the tall windows caught him every now and then as he crossed the room. his dark curls appearing softer in the light, the loose strands shifting slightly whenever he moved. the sun also seemed to warm the colour of his skin, giving it a richer, golden-brown tone compared to when he’d been sitting in the shade at lunch.
as you walked outside, internally hyping yourself up for go another 4 hours with the deranged campers you feel his presence beside yours as yous walked out together.
“hey, uh— thanks for putting my tray away.”
he looks down with a friendly smile, the apples of his cheeks rounding perfectly. “don’ worry about it.”
once you both approached your designated group in a small activity cabin, youre both immediately bombarded with the large volume of ‘oooh’s coming out of the small people’s mouths.
“the lovebirds have arrived,” one kid coos while another mimicked smooching noises.
michael’s face was quick to start burning up, the iconic crimson colour his cheeks always adorned now highlighted in the awkward current situation. you, on the other hand, rolling your eyes in annoyance.
“yous just don’t get bored, do yous?”
“it’s not funny, it’s awkward.”
“it’s not awkward, yous just make it awkward because neither of you wanna admit you love each other,” a little boy joshed, earning a symphony of squeaky laughs erupting from the crowd.
with a shake of your head, you quickly dismiss it. “right, sit at the table. we’re doing friendship bracelets.”
the friendship bracelet activity was met with exactly the reaction you expected—girls immediately crowding around the supply table, already discussing colour combinations with the seriousness of professional designers. within minutes they were sorting embroidery thread into neat little piles, comparing patterns, and debating whether blue and green clashed.
the boys, meanwhile, looked personally offended—complaining this was a ‘girls activity’.
“we’re making bracelets?” one boys asks sceptically, eyeing the colourful string.
“‘cause it’s the activity.”
“‘cause somebody planned it and now we’re all gonna participate.” the answer seeming to satisfy absolutely none of them as they sat looking at the threads with crossed arms and pronounced frowns.
the recreation cabin buzzed with conversation as campers claimed seats around the long wooden tables. afternoon sunlight streamed through the open windows, filling the room with warm golden light and carrying in the distant sounds of the lake, the scent of sunscreen, grass, and old wood lingering in the air whilst dozens of children attempted to follow the instructions laid out in front of them.
for the first twenty minutes, you and michael barely sat down, every few seconds somebody new needing help—a knot had come undone, someone else’s bracelet was tangled beyond recognition, one kid somehow managing to tie his shoelace into the bracelet despite repeated warnings not to.
you spent most of the time moving from table to table, crouching beside campers and carefully demonstrating the same knot over and over again.
“okay, now loop it through.”
“no, that’s your finger.”
at the next table, michael was having a remarkably similar experience. you glanced over just in time to watch him untangle what appeared to be an impossible knot while three boys watched with complete confidence that he could fix it—the knot somehow became worse, all four of them expressionlessly staring at it.
you watched him slowly rotate the bracelet in his hands as if changing the angle might somehow reveal a solution—it didn’t.
one of the boys sighed dramatically, resting his chin in his hand. “think it’s dead.”
michael looked up, letting out a short, scoffing laugh, his mind desperately trying to make sense of the boys conclusion. “it’s a bracelet…”
“yeah.” the camper nodded solemnly, his voice dripping with seriousness. “n’ it’s… dead.”
you had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing as you overheard the stupidity of the conversation.
eventually though, the campers started figuring things out for themselves—questions became less frequent, the knots becoming gradually less disastrous, and conversations replaced the constant cries for help.
for the first time all afternoon, the room settled into something peaceful. you finally dropped into one of the empty tables with a relieved sigh. across from you, michael did the same—his longs leg awkwardly man-spreaded to try find a comfortable way to sit without feeling squeezed into a ball.
a basket filled with colourful thread sat abandoned between you, and a few glorious seconds neither of you moved. that was until a small voice appeared beside the table.
“you have to make one too.”
you glanced up, meeting the gaze of the voice beside you. a little girl stood there with her hands on her hips.
michael immediately pointed at the campers. “we’re supervising.”
“no.” she pointed at the bracelet on her wrist. “you need friendship bracelets.”
the determination in her expression suggested this wasn’t a request. you exchanged a glance with michael, who looked just as confused as you did.
“you aren’t doing anything.”
unfortunately for you both, she had a point. without another moment, the girl shoved a handful of thread toward both of you.
“don’t fight it,” she ordered before walking away back to her own table, both of you staring speechlessly after her.
a brief silence followed before michael hesitantly picked up the thread infront of you both.
“i’ve just been bossed around by an eleven year old.”
“actually, that one was ten.”
“that’s worse,” he cringed.
and so you two made bracelets, the process going significantly worse than either of you expected. you spent nearly five minutes trying to remember which strand was supposed to cross over which. michael somehow tied three knots in the wrong direction before giving up entirely and starting over. at one point your bracelet accidentally attached itself to the leg table.
“didn’t know it was possible to fail at bracelets,” you spoke eventually, staring down at the large knot of yarn that was supposed to be a ‘bracelet’ infront of you.
michael looked down at his own tangled disaster in his hands. “you’d think we’d be experts after the half hour we spent helpin’ them.”
you snickered slightly as you glance down at his which, somehow, made you feel better about your own.
his bracelet looked objectively terrible—the colours didn’t match, the pattern disappeared halfway through, and one side was somehow noticeably longer than the other however he managed that.
one little girl wandered past and stopped directly infront of your table as they stared down at your bracelet, then michaels, then back to yours.
“mines better than both of yours.”
awkwardly, she was right. her bracelet was perfect—neat, make out-able patterns with colours that actually matched.
the child walked away looking deeply disappointed in your abilities, both of yours gazes staring at the back of her head before turning to meet each others.
“did we just got judged by a fifth grader?”
by the time the activity was winding down, most of the campers were proudly showing off their finished bracelets. yours wasn’t exactly impressive, but it was recognisably a bracelet which felt like an achievement.
you began tying off the final knot when movement across the table caught your attention. michael was staring down at his wrist—more specifically, staring at the two loose ends of his bracelet. he tried tying them together one-handed until bracelet immediately slipped free and landed on the floor beside him.
he tried again, the knot immediately loosening and the bracelet nearly falling apart.
the third attempt ended with the string somehow tangled around two fingers.
you watched amused at the struggle for another few seconds before setting your own bracelet down.
michael glanced up at you, his expression suggested he had been hoping nobody noticed. “uh— no. nope,” he replied with an awkward shake of his head.
a beat of silence followed, you about to go back to your own before his timid voice interrupted abruptly.
with a knowing smile, you held out your hand, summoning a beckoning motion. “give your wrist.”
he rolled his eyes but shifted his chair closer, handing his wrist out to you. ribbons of the warm afternoon sunlight spilled across the table between you, illuminating scattered strands of thread and half-finished bracelets left behind by campers.
around the room, children were still chatting excitedly while a few stray counsellors began collecting supplies, but the noise seemed distant compared to the quiet concentration at your corner of the table.
you delicately took hold of his wrist. it was meant to be a casual gesture, helping your friend tie a bracelet onto his wrist, yet michael seemed to freeze for half a second before relaxing again under your light touch.
the bracelet threads brushed against your fingers as you gathered the loose ends together.
a smile tugged briefly at the corner of his mouth as you focused on the knot, carefully looping the threads together before tightening them enough to stay secure. once satisfied, you adjusted the bracelet slightly and checked the fit, the colourful strands resting neatly against his wrist—far better than they had any right to after the tragedy you’d both created.
you glimpse up him, still slightly holding his wrist. “is it too tight?”
michael glanced down, the bracelet shifting slightly as he turned his arm to analyse the grip. “no, it’s fine.”
with a nod of approval you gently released his wrist, your touch slightly fingering more than it meant to, resulting in a ticklish sensation that nearly sent goosebumps over michaels arms.
he examined it for a moment before giving a polite smile. for a second neither of you said anything, just sitting there looking at the ridiculous bracelets you’d spent the last hour making before the same little girl from earlier reappeared who inspected both bracelets carefully.
the room seemed to hold its breath—the room being you two, before she gave a nod of endorsement.
you immediately laughed at the reluctant praise, shocked at how seriously she was taking the grading. across the table, michael dropped his head into his hands as he let out a breathless laugh, his shoulders shaking slightly before lifting his head back up to look at you.
dinner ended with its usual wave of noise—chair scraping against the floor, trays clattering onto collection carts. kids spilled out of the dining hall in loud, chaotic groups, their conversations overlapping until it became impossible to tell who was talking about what. somebody was still arguing about the canoe races from earlier whilst a six year old was on a tangent insisting that marshmallows counted as a vegetable if you thought about them hard enough because they ‘came from a plant.’ ???
the evening air felt cooler when you stepped outside. after spending most of the day beneath the summer sun, the drop in temperature was almost refreshing. a gentle breeze drifted through the trees surrounding camp, stirring the leaves overhead and carrying the scent of pine and lake water through the grounds.
the sun was beginning its slow descent beyond the lakes horizon—everything appearing dipped in gold. even the campers looked softer somehow beneath the warm evening light, their endless energy finally beginning to slowly fade after a full day of activities.
you followed your your cabin mates down the gravel path leading toward the campfire clearing that was located in a dedicated area between the beginning of the forest and the end of the lake, occasionally reminding campers not to run and immediately being ignored.
ahead, fellow counsellors guided their groups toward the large circle of wooden benches surrounding the fire pit. the campfire itself hadn’t been started yet, so for now it was just a bundle of wood in a lonely pile.
a hushed voice called from behind you, the feeling of slightly warm breath on your neck, contrasting with the evenings breeze.
you glanced over your shoulder to see michael walking closely behind you, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket he must’ve quickly thrown on before heading out to the, still to be started, fire.
you immediately noticed the friendship bracelet still looped around his wrist. the one you’d tied earlier—colours still objectively terrible and the bracelet itself slightly crooked but for some reason he still chose wearing it.
you looked away before he could catch you staring, replicating his greeting with a whispered “hey” back.
he nodded toward the campers walking ahead. “they seem less dangerous after dinner.”
“’cause they’re full. people fade a little after eating.”
“unfortunately.” you purse your lips together.
“that’s disappointing,” he sighed, a small laugh soon following.
the two of you fell into step beside each other as the path curved around the lake. the sky reflected across the water in streaks of orange, pink and gold, turning the entire surface into something that looked out of a painting. the distant sounds of laughter echoed from the clearing ahead while counselors finished setting up for the evening.
for a spell, neither of you spoke—the silence not awkward, that was the strange thing. only a week ago, you would have felt obligated to fill it, and now it felt like something you could almost survive off of. something that comfortingly lingered.
a group of campers rushed past, one of them nearly colliding with michael who sidestepped automatically.
with looking up, he let out an unappreciative comment. “elliott, i swear. watch yourself.”
the boy stopped, turning around where you were met with a facial expression that had the perfect mixture of both shock and confusion. “how’d y’know it was me?”
“you’ve fallen into a lake twice today. trust me, i’ve got to know you.”
elliott considered this, giving a nod of agreement. “that’s fair,” he shrugged before shortly continuing running and proceeding to nearly crash into another counsellors up ahead.
“you’re almost becoming psychic,” you tease, lightly bumping yourself into the side of his arm with a sway.
“i’m becoming fed up,” michael groaned, rubbing a hand over his face.
the campfire clearing came into view as the path opened up. large wooden benches surrounded the empty fire pit in a wide circle, lanterns hung from nearby posts, their warm light flickering softly as the evening grew darker. beyond the clearing, the lake stretched into the distance, reflecting the last pieces of sunlight still clinging to the horizon.
a handful of counsellors and kids were already there, sat in groups along on the bench or the ground below—most of them appearing sceptically relaxed.
neither of you had even reached the clearing before mary spotted yous, her freckle adorned face immediately brightening.
“there yous are!” she grinned, eagerly beckoning the two of you over, eric looks unamused beside her.
you look briefly over at michael, a discontent look written over your features. “why do i feel like we’re about to be given jobs?” you asked.
“uhhh…” he pretends to ponder, slowly stroking the bottom of his chin before concluding, “‘cause we’re boutta be given jobs.”
mary’s grin remarkably widened as you stood infront of her, enthusiastically clapping her hands.
“there’s rarely good news,” michael argues, his eyes heavy-lidded and slightly drooped with unamusement.
“we need help setting everything up.”
from somewhere behind her, eric suddenly found the grass fascinating as he sat and started pulling chunks out of the ground and creating a pile beside him, an estranged kid plopping beside him to add to the pile.
you lightly pointed a finger into mary’s chest. “no.”
mary gasped dramatically, almost offended at the quick reaction you gave. “‘scuse me?”
“we’ve gone through enough struggle for a day.”
“it’s character building, this is what camp’s for!”
“it’s borderline emotional warfare.”
beside you, michael nodding in agreement. “y/n’s got a point.”
mary almost looked delighted by the fact that both of you were complaining which probably should have worried you more. unfortunately, before either of you could escape, a stack of folded benches was deposited beside the fire pit and a large box consisting of wooden skewers and marshmallows.
somehow, despite the fact there were at least six other counsellors standing around doing absolutely nothing, you already knew exactly who was about to set it up.
you look around, beginning to acknowledge the others trying to appear occupied and unnoticeable—walking up to a random group of kids to start conversations or awkwardly adjusting the logs on the fire that doesn’t need adjusting.
the second you looked away from the benches and back toward the clearing, you caught eric, very obviously, turning around and walking in the opposite direction.
“don’t you dare,” you directed, staring daggers in the back of his head—does he really thinks he’s off the hook that easy?
eric almost immediately froze in place at your disciplinary tone, slowly looking over his shoulder. “what?”
“you immediately turned around.”
“i— i remembered something.”
michael folded his arms, one eyes slightly squinted in skepticism whilst his eyebrows shot up momentarily at the pathetic excuse. “oh yeah? what did you remember?”
eric opened his mouth, nothing coming out for a moment as his mind raced for something to answer with them pointed vaguely toward the direction of the cabins.“a… thing.”
“i’m sure the thing has a name.”
“it’s… yeah.” and with that, eric continued walking, his pace quickening before anyone could begin to argue.
mary lasted around a good thirty seconds longer prior to one of the younger campers called her name from across the clearing.
“oh shucks,” she uttered, sounding not remotely upset. “i’m being summoned.”
“you’re stood right there?”
“good luck!” she waved before sprinting over to the direction where her voice was beckoned from.
both you and michael stared after her almost dumbfounded at the sheer betrayal you two had just endured from the people who were meant to ‘stick together’ with you. the campfire clearing seemed suddenly much larger as yous stood there alone and isolated from everyone else who had no means of coming to your rescue.
a gentle breeze drifted through the trees, rustling the branches overhead whilst the faint echo of a birds calling from the lakeshore.
the woeful stack of benches remained exactly where it was plopped by previous counsellors, waiting and silently mocking you.
you groan in defeat, rubbing your hands over your face. “they definitely planned this.”
michael immediately nodded in solemn agreement, glaring down at the stack in shared defeat. “absolutely planned this.”
and yet neither of you moved, continuing to stare at the bundle of seating with eyes of exhaustion. a couple still moments passed until michael stepped forward and grabbed one end of the nearest bench.
you let out a quiet whine, hanging your head back with a disgruntled grunt “michael, you’re ruining the rebellion. at least pretend to resist, wait ‘til eric or someone comes back and let them deal with it.”
he considered it before following with a sharp “no.”
“terrible teammate,” shaking your head in disapproval.
grumbling in annoyance, you reluctantly grabbed the opposite end of the bench he picked up and together you lifted the bench and started carrying it toward the fire pit.
it was heavier than it looked, not enough to give you pain but enough to be an annoyance. the ground beneath your feet shifted from gravel to packed dirt as you crossed the clearing, the evening air cooling further as the sun slipped lower behind the trees. the sky above the lake had deepened into shades of purple and blue now, the colours reflecting perfectly across the water’s surface.
it should have been peaceful, an atmosphere of where you should relax and take in the day behind you—instead, you were hauling furniture.
you lowered the bench into place carefully to not let it crash, michael stepping back to examine it, squinting slightly before nudged one side slightly with his foot.
“no one will notice, and the kids will have it knocked over and diagonal by the first five minutes of sitting on it.”
you let out a stifled laugh, the sound escaping before you could stop it nor register it happened. michael looked mildly pleased with himself which immediately made you regret laughing.
the next few benches passed in much the same way—carrying, complaining, then latching onto the next with a grunt.
by the fourth bench, both of you had developed a rhythm without even discussing it—michael grabbed one side, you grabbed the other. neither of you needed instructions anymore, no ‘left’, ‘right’, ‘lil’ more right’.
a silence floated through the air bar the faint squeals and bickers from children a few metres away.
“so,” michael begins, quietly searching for something to follow with after having started with no clue where to take the conversation.
you glanced up at him, faintly smiling at his own confusion on his face. “soo?”
the question surprised you enough that you almost missed a step. “nah, just me.” you lightly chuckle.
“ah,” he nods. “so jus’ you, mum and dad?”
you pause for second, unsure where to start or if you even should. “uh… yeah, somethin’ like that,” you nervously giggle, voice coming out quieter than you’d meant whilst trying your best to not meet his eyes and working harder on moving the bench than anything else.
the words hit harder than you would’ve expected. it was just just a normal question someone would ask when getting to know another. but to you, it left a heavy, tightening feeling in your chest. the air around you suddenly felt thicker. heavier.
michael looks at you with light concern, his eyebrows, almost unnoticeably, furrowing slightly. you hestitantly look up to meet his stare, the expression he projected almost taking you aback, like he was silently analysing your face.
you immediately look away under his gaze which felt so intense under the silent panic and sorrow that filled your thoughts—god, you hated this part. that awkward pause that follows whenever someone asks about your family, the split second where you have to decide whether to tell them and make things weird and awkward. to drop something heavy into an otherwise normal conversation.
you’ve only known michael for a few days—a week, maybe. you barely know each other, usually only talking about the kids to activities rather than yourselves.
why would he need to know? why would you tell him? why should you?
the silence stretches as you practically feel him looking at you. he wasn’t pushing for answers, rather quietly waiting as you gathered yourself.
when you finally glance back, you’re met with a pair of deep brown eyes that are searching your face carefully. his expression softens almost instantly, concern flashing across his features as you could physically see his eyes scanning you in an attempt to gather whatever information he could from the way you were stood, the way your face slightly contorted as your thoughts kept rushing. and for some reason, that almost breaks you because he’s looking at you like he genuinely cares.
you throat tightens, deeply swallowing to try compose yourself. you could almost feel your heart rapidly recoiling in your chest, it’s sound echoing through your ears. your jaw began to absentmindedly tighten in an effort to not let it tremble as you grow slightly emotional as the thoughts and memories flood your brain—looking away again before he can see it.
“hey,” his voice is gentler now, more cautious. “you okay?”
the care in his tone catches you completely off guard, and you couldn’t explain to yourself why. maybe because most people wouldn’t notice—you’ve learnt over the years of teasing and bullying in school as well as your terrible habit of masking and hiding your emotions how to hide how you were really feeling. most people move on, or dont look at you long enough to realise something’s wrong.
suddenly you feel exposed, like he can see straight through you. you stare down at your hands wrapped around the bench which began to grow clammy. your skin around your nails red and irritated from picking at them—a nervous habit you gained over the years, one your dad used to scold you for.
the thought alone sends another sharp ache through your chest before you swallow hard yet again.
“my dad…” you pause. the words feel strange even after all these months. you tried not to speak about him, for your own good. you knew you couldn’t speak of it—you’ve barely processed it since it happened, still in denial although you knew damn well it was true.
“he— he passed away last october.”
immediately, the world seems to go completely still. the kids screams fading into non-existence along with the soft birds singing and gentle crash of the lake on the shore. michael freezes, like fully freezes—his walking immediately stopping which caught you off guard and nearly caused you both to topple over which earned a sharp gasp from you before he quickly gathered himself and started to walking again, but this time more slowly.
the concern on his face immediately melts into shock, his eyes widen slightly. “oh.”
you let out a humourless laugh—a small one, barely there. “yeah.” you began slightly nibbling on your lower lip.
the silence that follows wasn’t uncomfortable, just heavy and upset—the kind of silence that settles over bad news, no one knowing what to say next.
michael momentarily opens his mouth before quickly closing it again like he can’t find the right thing to say—and to that you were almost grateful, there probably isn’t a right thing to say.
“he was…” you stop, blinking rapidly. “he was basically my best friend,’ you whisper. you didn’t even mean to, you seemingly just couldn’t get it out. your voice cracked slightly before clearing your throat and trying again.
“i never really had loads of friends growing up.” the brutal confession slips out before you can stop it—embarrassing and pathetic.
“i was always awkward. quiet, kinda weird—atleast to the other kids. my dad used to drag me out of the house all the time because of it.”
you could nearly envision right infront of you—the camping trips, just you hand him. afternoon beach trip when you’d both jump or dive the waves with loud laughter. the fishing trips he’d take you on, neither of you would catch anything, but it still gave you an excuse to hang out together. no-destination road trips, windows down, muaic blasting from the radio while you both pathetically belted out to elton john, his voice singing completely off-key.
“he never wanted me sitting around feeling sorry for myself. so we’d go somewhere. like, literally anywhere.” your chest tightens painfully as stare at the ground, smiling small into yourself an you reminisce on the nostalgic moments. “jus’ me and him.”
you could speak, the memories too vivid—too close. you can practically hear his laugh, that’s somehow the worst part. the way you could remember it perfectly yet know you’ll never hear it again.
michael hasn’t interrupted once, listening intently as you go on. you finally risk looking up, which you immediately regret when expression makes your chest ache—physically ache.
his head was slightly tiled to the right, his eyes are softer than you’ve ever seen them—wide and sad, his eyebrows knitted as he chewed on the inside of his cheek. he showed genuine sadness, not the pathetic pity party people typically show you when you talk about it, which isn’t often.
“i’m… i’m really sorry,” he speaks quietly, the words coming out immediately without hesitation, like he means every syllable.
you quickly dart your gaze away before he can see how much that affects you.
but it wasn’t fine—it never will be, but it’s easier than explaining that.
you soon force yourself to continue, letting out a long, shaky breath. “he was driving home from work.” the words had felt rehearsed now, you’d explained them enough times—to enough relatives, enough teachers and therapists. “drunk driver hit him,” you murmur, nearly not wanting him to hear.
a flash of disbelief crosses his features, soon distorting into anger then heartbreak all in the space of a few seconds.
you nod, pursing your lips awkwardly together, unsure of how to approach this. you never took people sympathies and pity well, never knowing what to do with it.
the next words are the hardest, your eyes gradually begin to fog over, rapidly blinking to try gain back your vision. “there wasn’t really…” your throat tightens,making it almost impossible to get the following words out. “there wasn’t really any goodbye.” you stare at the dirt beneath your shoes, a shaky breath leaving your lips. “no last conversation or final words,” you shrug weakly. “as horrible as it sounds, he went to work one morning and then…”
you physically couldn’t finish the sentence, but you didn’t need to—michael understood. the silence said enough.
your eyes began to sting, causing you to blink furiously.
‘not now. god, please not now.’
“this summer’s been the worst,” you voice comes out barely above a whisper. “usually he’d have taken me somewhere nearly every other day,” you chuckle lightly, broken around the edges as you’d remember the amount of times he’d shake you awake in bed and order you to be in the car in the next ten minutes.
“honestly, he probably would’ve forced me to go camping at least five times by now.”
michael lets out the smallest breath of laughter, not necessarily because it was funny but as he knows you’re trying—trying not to cry and fall apart infront of him.
“so when summer started…” you shrug. “i… didn’t really know what to do with myself. every passing just felt empty. repetitive. so i signed up for camp.”
you glance toward the trees, the cabins, the lake, the faint silhouette of the kids afar. “this place seemed better than sitting at home missing him, jus’ sitting in my own sorrow.”
when you look back at michael, he’s already looking at you—his expression unreadable for a moment because he cared so much he doesn’t know what to do with it.
his eyes were fixated on yours, heartbreakingly sincere which made you almost immediately break as you took it all in.
“i’m really glad you told me,” his comforting words quiet, like he didn’t want to startle you.
you stare at him blankly, caught off guard at his reply. he wasn’t treating you differently, or looking at you like you’re fragile. no ‘i’m so sorry’, no pity parties. no scrambling to change the subject.
he just stood… there, listening and allowing himself to understand and take in the vulnerable news your were delivering—somehow that was worse, suddenly allowing you to realise how long it’d been since someone simply listened.
“y’wanna tell me more about him?” he asks reluctantly, probably worried the question would make you burst into tears.
you shake your head, blink strongly to try cure the burning feel erupting from them, nibbling at the skin on your bottom lip to the point you could taste the faint linger of metal in your mouth. to that he nods understandably, not wanting to push any further.
yous continue to carry the benches one by one into a large circle surrounding the pit, a thick emotional silence staying between you two. your mind continued to keep thinking and cursing at yourself for telling him—that you’d probably made him uncomfortable, borderline trauma dumping on him, indulging in self-pity.
michael could tell the shift in your mood as soon as the conversation ended—i mean it was hard not to. the way you stared blankly in front of you, moving on autopilot as yous continued to go back and forth with more upon more benches, still no other counsellors bothering to help.
the campfire was already roaring by the time you made your way back across the clearing—some counsellors finally deciding to be useful.
orange waves of light flickered across the rows of logs and folding chairs arranged around it, kids running around with far too much energy for the time of night whilst counsellors desperately attempted to herd them into roughly organised groups. one kid carelessly tripped over his own foot which made michael and another counsellors and kids burst out into laughter.
“connor seriously, how are you still alive?” a counsellor snorted, the kid probably one of his own, still finding the fact he tripped over himself utterly hilarious.
the boy grinned, his two front teeth missing—probably from falling. “uh, natural talent?”
the kid sprinted away before he could respond which let a few other counsellors chuckle before going back to either own conversations, catching up with friends from other groups.
you laughed too. it sounded normal—at least you hoped it did. normality was easy and safe. it meant nobody asked questions.
and silently across the fire, michael watched you intently, watching your mannerisms with careful precision. earlier that afternoon he would’ve thought nothing of it—just you being you, the girl who somehow managed to make every conversation entertaining, who could make homesick eight year olds laugh after crying for an hour, the girl who always had a joke ready that made others clutch their stomach from laughing too hard.
but now he knew better. every smile looked different—not fake, rarely fake, but harder to earn. the somber realization sitting heavily in his chest.
you stood across from the fire, recently having just came back from helping a little girl change from her previous clothes after falling into a messy pile of dirt, carefully scanning across the bench when you finally spotted an empty space beside him—well, not exactly empty. michael was sprawled across part of it, legs spread carelessly into that man-spread i’m sure all women have grown to loath from the men around her.
the second he noticed you looking, he sat up, almost immediately bringing his legs closer together.
“occupied?” you raised an eyebrow, glancing at the space beside him.
a corner of his mouth twitched before answering with the shake of his head, his curls swaying in the calm evening breeze. “not if you’re sittin’ there.”
something warm fluttered unexpectedly in your chest, your heart rate for some reason growing slightly quicker though you were quick to push it down and ignore it.
“i know.” he shifted further over, scooching closer to eric who sat beside him so you wouldn’t have to be squished between the two of them uncomfortably. “y’can thank me later,” he kidded with a playfully wink, patting the empty spot now remaining beside him.
you rolled your eyes before sitting beside him, your shoulders bumping briefly and yet neither of you moved away, allowing the faint touch to linger. for the first couple of minutes neither of you spoke, just listening to the white noise of the crackling fire, the children playing a game of tag behind yous.
michael found himself glancing sideways—just checking. making sure you were okay. i mean, there you were smiling, talking, laughing at a silly comment a kid made to you about the kid she was with, talking about how he lost his tooth by his dad yanking it out with a piece of string and a foam ball shooter. acting the same way you always did, but now he knew what lived underneath it and somehow that made him admire you even more.
the way you composed yourself and could easily mask how you were probably feeling. he respected you for it, and he made a silent promise to himself to keep a watchful eye on you from now on.
tags : @wondergotham @kietourhrt @xxxercess @ceeriusly-dumb @melynex @sscrumertt @lov3lylxvender @darkgreengrl @frangiipanii @starliqhtsworld @izluvsyou @cloverjeanmj @uknownn111 @invinor @art-faux @softchaosdiary505 @sulkygyu @meowwrites @itsmonetnicole @yourlocaltenderoni @bonni-98 @asillysimp @petalwisps @aizawaspersonalassistant @lia-pitchiner @stickyturtlezipperdeputy @euphoricpxrsona
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