ritualmichael:

picnicking with michael

It was finally fall, your favorite season. The days were getting cooler and the leaves were turning burnt orange and red. Everything just seemed more peaceful. So did the boy who had his head in your lap, his eyes closed as you read to him.

Michael had suggested you both go on a picnic today, he could tell you had the urge to get out of the house and be outside for a while. You always loved the fresh air and sunlight, often times finding yourself sitting out on the balcony to your apartment. You had both finished the sandwiches that Michael had messily prepared in the kitchen before you left, both getting comfortable on the blanket spread out beneath you.

He had his head in your lap as he laid down and you had your book in one of your hands and the other running through his blonde hair. The sun was warming you both and the cool breeze brushed past you, making Michael’s hair blow onto his face, which you kept brushing back.

“Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall,” you read from your tattered, overused copy of The Great Gatsby. Michael hummed and his eyes fluttered open, gently pushing the book back so he can see you.

He mumbles a soft, “C’mere” and reaches up, slipping his hand behind your neck and pulling your head down to give him a quick, but gentle kiss.

“Are you sick of listening to me yet?” you asked, sitting back up and running your fingertips over his cheekbone. He looked ethereal in the warm sunlight, it amazed you that you were with someone like him.

“I could listen to you read that book forever and never get tired of hearing your voice,” he said, giving you a relaxed smile and closed his eyes again. He turned over so that his nose was brushing against your shirt, one of his arms wrapping around your waist. You couldn’t help the grin that pulled on your lips, pushing your fingers through his wavy hair a few more times before going back to your book.

You lost track of time, reading through numerous chapters until the sun started setting. As you read, Michael would shift around or draw shapes against your thighs or back, slipping his hand under your shirt. You looked up from the pages, noticing the dimming light and seeing the colorful clouds.

“Michael,” you whispered, setting your book down and gently resting your hand on his cheek, your thumb grazing his smooth skin.

He looked up at you with sleepy eyes, turning onto his back and stretching out his body. It kind of shocked you that he was able to lay there for so long, just listening to you without wanting to get up.

“Are you going to finish the book when we get home?” he asked, sitting up with a little groan as he straightened his posture.

“You really like it that much?” you asked, grinning at the boy in front of you. The sunset was turning everything around you pink, and the warm glow casted itself onto Michael. He nearly took your breath away.

“I really like you that much,” he said, leaning closer to you and pressing his lips to yours with a smile. Mumbling against your lips, he continued, “which means I like listening to you read your favorite book.” He spoke between kisses which made you giggle, blushing at his words.

“Even if I do think you may have a bit of a crush on Gatsby…” he continued, pulling away and raising a brow at you, biting back a smile.

“Is someone jealous of a fictional character?” you teased, giving his shoulder a gentle push.

“He may be some rich big shot, but at least I can do this,” he said, pulling you closer to him and grabbing your face, kissing you once again. It was gentle and even though you were both jokingly teasing each other, you could feel how much he loved you through the kiss. Pulling away, you bit your lip as you smiled, shaking your head at Michael.

“Don’t worry about him, he dies anyway,” you shrug, wrapping your arms around his neck, leaning into him.

“Yeah, I don’t plan on doing that anytime soon,” Michael retorted, leaning in for another kiss.