Above him, the sun peaked out from behind the clouds for a moment before being covered by the endless blanket drifting in the sky. For once, the weather wasn't absolutely unbearable. Not that Michael minded the cold; in fact he preferred the cold to the hot more often than not. That was one of the reasons he chose Forks when given the choice of where to take up residence. That was sometime last year. Michael shifted his weight and pulled his turtleneck up and over his mouth so that his lips didn't freeze. He liked the cold, but he hated being cold. In this sense, he hated snow just as much. It was this nice, chilly overcast that he liked most. So to Mike, it was the perfect day to be outside. Maybe no the perfect day to be in a cemetery, but he'd take what he could get.

He huffed, tucking his hands back into the pockets of his dark gray jeans, and shuffled a little further down the path. See, Mikey had hit a wall recently. He was a writer, and currently was found writing a scene where his main character was visiting the grave of an old friend. Somehow, he just couldn't seem to get the emotions that he wanted to across to the reader. Something was missing. So, finally, in a fit of desperation, the student had decided to take his own visit to the cemetery and see what there was to be learned. Michael himself had never lost someone that meant much to him. Sure, he'd left his parents, but they never connected very well. And he'd had no real friends in school to leave behind when he left, so there wasn't anything there, either. He just had Kaine and Tessa and the rest of the oddballs he now lived with.

Suddenly, a shape moved across the left side of his peripheral vision and he turned his head to see what it was. It wasn't often that he left the safety of his friend's presence, and it made him some what paranoid. No matter though, it was just a girl, not that this made Mikey any less comfortable. His gynophobia had been keeping itself in check lately, but he still was afraid of slipping up. Better to just avoid the hassle of worring, he thought to himself. He slowed his steps and turned to the side, pretending to be staring intently at the grave stone that meant nothing to him. He knew none of the names on the markers here, and probably never would.