Nervous Like A Knife Fight. (Mikey Way)

Michael James Way rubbed his tired fingertips into his tired eyes, simply thinking.
He'd met Tuesday on a Monday, ironically. Her hair was loosely tied into a ponytail that simply screamed in an excruciatingly exhausted manner, "I spilled coffee on myself and had to run out in my apartment complex to tell someone who really could care less." She was extroverted in the way that makes you look at yourself and think, 'Man... since when do I actually associate myself with the people who want nothing to do with me other than trip me at lunch every once in a while?'.
And her socks didnt match.
He'd met Tuesday on her birthday, which was a Monday, which was ironic, because the name Tuesday actually means in the book of names... 'born on Tuesday'. Hed met Tuesday when he himself was wishing that hed spent more time in bed that previous night, even when it was roughly five thirty in the evening and he worked within the fifty foot vicinity of a coffee shop.
He'd met Tuesday ironically, introverted, and interesting.
Tuesday had a book.
Why someone had a book that didn't belong to the bookstore it was in confused Mikey. And why someone was trying to take that book and put it on a shelf in a bookstore that it didn't belong to confused Tuesday.
"HEY!" He recalled her yelling when he gingerly snatched up the book unknowingly, holding it by the spine to see the author's name.
He froze up. "Uhh... can I help you?"
"You can give me my book back... it belongs to me." She had said, propping her thin wrist on her slim waist and huffing a chunk of brown hair out of her face without looking terribly annoyed. She merely looked interested, expecting... hopeful, even, for something.
Mikey blinked, momentarily stunned by this girl's sudden accusation. "Oh. Uhh... oh, sorry." He stuttered back after a second, holding the book out the same way he'd picked it up in the first place.
Ecstasy: Three Tales Of A Chemical Romance, by Irvine Walsh.
"That's a great book, uhh..." He snapped, trying to remember if she'd even mentioned her name in the extremely intense ten second encounter that had ensued between them. "Uhh..."
"Tuesday." The girl said, smiling lightly and retrieving her book.
Mikey shook his head semi-brusquely as he smoothed his hands out on his pants. "No... it's Monday."
Tuesday tossed back her head and laughed deeply. The kind of laugh that made Mikey take a slow look around the bookstore to see if anyone was being disturbed and if it was genuinely so that he needed to make an apology. The kind of laugh that made him grin in spite of himself, knowing that he said something that made a girl smile since the last time it happened in second grade when he made a certain remark to a certain girl because he had a certain affinity between certain girls and getting certain words mixed up.
When Mikey found himself smiling much like the girl, he dreaded thinking of breaking the moment, but found it slightly necessary. "So your name is Tuesday, or something?"
"Finally, Einstein." She remarked slyly, flicking his glasses and dragging him gently to a table in the caf.

I like your eyes wide...
After roughly ten minutes of simple conversation, Tuesday lapsed into a comfortable silence and took a sip from her steaming cup of green tea. Mikey fiddled with his glasses- a telltale sign that he was nervous.
"Its my birthday today." Tuesday notified him randomly.
Mikey nodded. "Thats nice." He said shortly. After an awkward moment, he tilted his head. "Really? I mean... how old are you?"
This comment made Tuesday scoff. "Too old." She rolled her eyes, smiled, and tipped the cup back to her lips.
"Too old for what?" Mikey quipped sneakily, wiggling his eyebrows.
Tuesday wrinkled her nose in the beginning of a small smile. "How old are you, twelve?"
"Old enough."
"Old enough for what?" Tuesday replied, mocking his tone and eyebrow wiggle. "Are you old enough to slowdance?" Mikey watched her, fascinated, as pure poetry spilled from her lips. "Old enough to do your laundry and get enough sleep at night? Are you old enough to have your own chemical romance?" Tuesday wiggled her eyebrows once more and finished her tea.
Mikey let his head tilt slightly to the side subconsciously. "And youre saying youre too old for all of that?"
"Fairy tales are for children," She stood and flipped through the pages absent mindedly. "Chemical romances are for the young, and dreams never die." Tuesday smirked to herself. "I think thats the reason I just spent my birthday in a bookstore with a boy Ive never even formally met." Mikey grinned. "You know, kid, you should get a chemical romance. Maybe when were older, old enough to do something with ourselves, Ill give you a call and tell you how my chemical romance is doing."
Mikeys smile widened slightly as he stood. "Youre a really interesting person." He said. Cheesy, he knew, but she kind of fell for it.
Tuesday shook her head. "Nah."
"Don't 'nah' me... you just talked my ear off for, like, twenty minutes. And I didnt mind at all!"
"Ill nah you as much as I want until I can call myself interesting." Tuesday smiled and flicked him on the glasses again, dropping her empty cup off at the bar, and exited the bookstore.
And here, we find Michael James Way, rubbing his tired eyes and thinking of all those things. About how he still couldn't slowdance, or do his own laundry right, or get enough sleep at night.
In the very, very near future, he will grab his cellphone, which will be sitting on the amp nearly ten feet from him, scroll through for the name Tuesday, and not call immediately. He will sit there and think of all of the things he could have and should have and never would have said. He will eventually call and proceed to be nothing more than the same boy that met Tuesday on a Monday, but with several years experience and, finally... a chemical romance to tell.

Been knocking at your back door...


Aww.

=D

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