The Shadow

Looking into Michael's eyes she knew. He was the Shadow. With those dark, mysterious gray eyes, the straight mess of golden hair, and that carefully pointed, serious jaw. Naomi quicky leaned back and sucked in a shocked breath. Michael knew immediately what she was thinking. "Naomi, it's not what you think," he inched closer to her, being careful not to fall off of the wide branch they were sitting on. She continued to move back to the dark shingled roof-top of her two story mahogany brick house.
"And I was about to kiss you! How the hell could you even try that with me? You are the Shadow! And I loved you," Naomi stage whispered and stepped clumsily onto the roof, heading toward her open window. Michael shook his head once.
"No, Naomi, you don't understand. I didn't kill you ever, did I? I love you. That's why. There haven't been any more Shadow appearences, have there? That's because I heard... I heard you talking to Carla on the phone, about me. How you compared me as being exact opposite of the Shadow. I wanted to be that person for you. I stopped for you. Don't you understand?" He continued shuffling closer to Naomi, even once she was sitting on the window sill. She scowled at him but then her face softened slightly.
"Y-you changed for me? I'm sorry but I-I can't believe that. You were... you are so evil. Someone that evil couldn't ever change like that," she snapped her fingers and leaned back into her aqua and cream bedroom as Michael stepped onto the roof. He shook his head again and, as Naomi reached for the window pane, dove into the room, landing on the ground and rolling one to stand in front of her maple dresser. Naomi screamed, "Why do you insist on being here? I don't want you anymore! You are evil and I don't ever date anyone evil, or who tries to kill my best friends on a regular basis." As she slammed the window pane shut Michael jumped through it, tucking and rolling right in front of the dark chestnut dresser holding all of Naomi's favourite photos.
"But don't you remember how much you loved me five minutes ago? Maybe we should just start where we left off," Michael leaned in closer to Naomi, who shoved him hard in the chest, her black curls bouncing wildly around her small, round, pixie-ish face. Michael sucked in a surprised breath as he slammed into the dresser, knocking a picture frame to the ground. He picked it up in wonder. It was of two smiling kids; one with shaggy blond hair and one with braided black curls, one a boy and one a girl, one with smoke gray eyes and one with eyes the colour of freshly cut grass. The happy children were Michael and Naomi when they were twelve, two years before. Naomi grabbed the picture and tossed it into the wicker wastepaper basket. Michael strode forward to place a worried hand on her shoulder. She turned her head and tears fell softly to hit the beige carpet, "Naomi, I don't want to be that anymore. Will you please give me another chance? What I do want to be is just regular Michael, no strings attached. Please?" Michael pleaded and spun Naomi around into a light hug. She didn't hug back.
"I still can't say that I accept that, Michael! You may be lying to me and I don't take my chances. Plus, you aren't even supposed to be here! Eric warned me about you once and by gosh I should have listened to him and not snuck around to see you!" Naomi pulled away from Michael and walked over to the ceram door, which she opened quickly, "You can leave now," Michael stepped to the doorway and looked over his shoulder once to see Naomi crying on her bed, looking up at him with red, puffy eyes. He strode down the hallway toward the front door.
As Michael left, Naomi yanked her cellphone from the pocket of her blue jeans and typed Carla a quick text explaining what had just happened when the door slammed against the wall, showing Naomi's enraged brother Eric gripping Michael by the shoulder of his shirt. Michael was looking apologetically at Naomi, his eyes shimmering slightly.
"What the fuck is this kid doing here, Naomi? I thought you kicked him to the curb two months ago!" Eric's black hair fell limp in his face, matted to his forehead with sweat from his soccer game. He looked over to Michael, "If I ever catch you here again I swear I will pummle you into a pulp! Don't touch my sister," Eric looked back to Naomi, "How much do you know?" Naomi told him about how she knew Michael's identity. Shoving him hard in the chest, Eric told Michael to leave and never come back. Michael nodded once and looked over his shoulder, a small tear running down his pale cheek.
Eric jogged over to Naomi quicky, hugging her shoulders comfortingly, "I know how you feel sis. Just be glad that you are finally rid of him. I told you I had a bad feeling about him. Oh and you'd better wipe those tears away; mom will be home soon," then he stood up, brushed off his blue jeans, and jogged out the door. Naomi fell back, he head landing softly onto her cream pillow.
Just then there was a knock at her now closed door. "Sweet heart? Can I come in?" It was Ms. Winter, Naomi and Eric's widowed mother. Naomi threw her pillow at the door.
"No! Go away!" She cried and buried her head into the covers of her queen-sized bed.

*****(This story is a wrok in progress that is not yet done!)*****