CHAPTER 8
PROPHETIC

CORALINE hadn't drank hot chocolate in years, so it was hard to convince her mother why she was currently carrying a mug of it upstairs to her room. "I'm just ... preparing for colder weather," she said, as if that was going to happen in California. Francesca really didn't seem to notice as she began to scrub the dishes clean.

She tip-toed up the stairs carefully, trying not to spill the hot chocolate that she filled to the edge. A dollop of marshmallow Fluff floated at the top of the mug. Pushing the door open to her room, Coraline spotted Michael sitting on the floor, right beside the window. She closed her door immediately and locked it.

"Here," she said, handing him the warm mug. "I made this for you."

Michael reached up and took the cup gratefully. He sniffed the contents. "What is it?"

"Hot chocolate. You've never had that before?" She quirked a brow upward, and Michael shook his head in response. "Boy, you've really been cut off from the modern world."

He chuckled under his breath, taking a large sip from the cup and almost burning his tongue. He didn't let it show though. Michael liked the burning.

Coraline sat in front of him, crossing her legs over each other, and smiled. "Is it good?"

"Yeah," he nodded, "really good."

She hummed in response, unsure of how she should start this conversation. Tension hung in the air before them. Coraline never thought she would have to be this vulnerable situation with Michael Langdon when she met him, but he was adamant, telling her things like, "You have power within you." How could he know, out of all people? She had never actually talked about her visions with anymore, and the thought of starting sent shivers down her spine.

"Are you going to tell me your story now?" He asked, taking another sip of the hot chocolate. Fluff coated his upper lip.

Coraline giggled and wiped marshmellow from his mouth with her thumb. "I don't really know how to start," she replied. Her voice dropped to a whisper, and she desperately hoped her mother couldn't hear them. "Um – well, what do you want to know?"

"What are your powers?"

She leaned back and wrinkled her nose. "How do you know I have powers?"

Michael set the mug down on his lap. "I felt them," he whispered. "When I ... when I broke into your hospital room, something told me to touch your skin. I held your hand and I just ... felt it, like a surge of energy bubbling underneath the skin."

She shrugged, making a note to ask him how he could feel her energy later. It didn't seem as important right now while he was staring at her with awe, wondering what was tying them together. Coraline pursed her lips.

"I have visions of the future, to put it simply." She pulled her knees to her chest and rested her chin on them. "They started last year. I blacked out in the middle of a Chemistry exam and everyone saw me flinch on the floor. They said I looked like I was being possessed, but doctors diagnosed me as schizophrenic." Coraline held up her hands for a moment. "Which I am not. My visions are real and not weird hallucinations."

Michael looked down at the mug in his hands, watching the marshmallow fluff disappear into the hot liquid. "What happened after that?"

"They all made fun of me." She looked away. His eyes were full of pity and she didn't want to see it. "Even my friends. I was once at the top of the high school food chain, but once I had that public episode, they all labeled me as a psycho. 'Crazy Coraline,' they'd call me. I lost everything." She smiled for a short second. "Thank god, Eloise invited me to board game club last year. If it weren't for her and the guys, I don't know where I'd be. Probably six feet under. Teenagers are a cruel species."

He furrowed his brow. How could anyone be so mean to their friend like that? Coraline didn't ask for this power, but when she got it, her friends cast her out for no reason. Michael was angry for her. Humans were so evil and ugly. It made him sick.

"The visions," he pressed on. "What are they about?"

Coraline scrunched up her mouth. "Random stuff," she quickly replied. It was followed by a sigh of regret. "Well, I guess not so random. They usually involve death and traumatic events. I even saw Trump win the presidency. It sucked having to keep that quiet."

It all made sense now. At least, he thought it did. Michael remembered asking the Cardinals of the Church of Satan certain histories he should know. They explained to him a number of terms, most of which his young brain couldn't recall at the moment, but a few words remained clear.

Prophets are essential to organizing the End of Days, Miriam once told him. They are individuals in contact with with our Father and said to speak on his behalf, serving as an intermediary with us. They receive messages from Him through visions, which foretell future events that we must know for the End. They are one of the most important figures to our cause.

At first, he assumed Coraline was gifted – or cursed – with some kind of magical abilities he could harness for his own plans. He thought she was just more power to gain. But she had more. Oh, so much more.

"A prophet," Michael whispered under his breath.

Coraline leaned forward. "A what?"

He looked up, meeting her stare with wide, blue eyes. "You're a prophet, Coraline." Michael paused, seeing if his words sunk. By the confused expression she was giving him, he guessed it hadn't. "You know, a person who foretells the future. You're in contact with a higher power and receive messages that have yet to come. A prophet. You're a prophet."

Coraline stared at him with a lifted brow. Eventually, a few chuckles slipped out of her pretty, pink mouth. "You must be as delusional as I am, Michael," she sighed, allowing the laughs to fade from her system. Coraline shook her head. "You might be wrong on this one. I think I was just ... cursed by the Devil or something."

"He wouldn't do that," Michael argued and waved a finger at her. "I'm right. You just don't want to believe it."

She rolled her eyes. "And how do you know that?"

"Because I'm the Chosen One."

Coraline stayed silent, looking at him with wide eyes. She swore her brow was so high that it probably reached her hairline. The house creaked as a wind passed by outside, making her look over her shoulder at the locked door. She turned back to Michael with a worried expression.

"What does that even mean?" She asked in a low voice and looked to his hands. "Can you please stop playing with that mug? I don't want the hot chocolate to spill."

Michael hadn't realized he was tipping the cup of now lukewarm chocolate in between his hands until she spoke up. He was nervous, knowing that it was now his time to explain himself. Michael thought about lying, but that wouldn't solve anything. In order for her to believe him, he had to tell her everything – all the gory truth. She'd believe him then. She had to.

"It means that I am ... gifted, you could say," he finally spoke. "I don't have full control of the power yet. I do things without meaning it sometimes."

Coraline parted her lips. "You're gifted. Not cursed?"

"Miriam doesn't call it a curse," he replied with a shake of his head. "My memory comes in waves. I never knew my parents. I remember my first caretaker, my grandma, tried giving me a sacred intervention because of my gifts. The man she invited over shoved a cross in my face and scared me. I don't remember what happened after that.

"Then, I found my grandma dead. I feel like it was my fault. I was a lot to handle and Miriam has been the only one who has understood me. I guess ... I just wanted to please my grandma, but it wasn't enough. It was too much for her.

"I remember a man finding me at that point. He talked to me and I thought he appreciated my gifts. He knew how to control them; how to control me. I remember him feeling like a father, but ... I don't remember his name. He would always call me brilliant; that I was five steps ahead of everyone else. It made me feel special."

Michael swallowed hard, bring the cup of hot chocolate to his lips again and hoping the liquid would burn him. The burning helped ease stress. It lifted the worries away. However, his drink had gone cold.

"But I didn't want him to control me anymore," he continued. "I don't like not being in control of my gift. It was given to me by Him."

Coraline wrinkled her nose, unsure whether he was talking about God or the Devil. She didn't want to ask which.

"The man ended up abandoning me. I was too difficult to control. He said he never could've helped me." His face was stone cold. He couldn't even meet Coraline's worried stare. But then, a soft smile grace his lips. "That was when Miriam found me. She recognized my gift and commended me for it. She raised me as one of her own, calling me the Chosen One. Its all I've ever known since."

Coraline didn't know how she should've taken the story. Her expression was blank, a mask of pure confusion and shock. Her desk light flickered over his head, bringing her back to reality. Coraline blinked about a dozen times before she met his eyes again. He had been staring at her, waiting desperately for an answer. She couldn't give him one.

"I feel ..." Michael shook his head and looked away.

She knitted her brow. "What?"

"It's stupid."

"No, it's not," she promised. "Just say it."

He licked his lips, viewing up at her again. "I don't know." He bobbed his head back in forth. "I feel like you're the first person I've decided to trust since I met Miriam."

Coraline rubbed a finger over her lips. She closed her eyes for a moment, not believing the conversation she was having with her Satanist neighbor. They had just met over a month ago, but it felt like ... they had known each other for years. As if, they knew each other in another life. It was all happening so fast and she was lightheaded. But at the same time, this pace felt correct. It didn't feel rushed; it felt normal, like years had past by, rather than a month and a half.

"Can you answer a question for me?" She removed her hand from her lids, where she had been rubbing the sleep away. She inhaled deeply when he nodded. "You said that if our skin is touching, we can feel each other's ... energy. Correct? Like, we're connected."

Michael nodded again.

Coraline hesitated. She crossed her legs again and slid herself closer to him. He pressed his back against the wall, yet still found his body gravitating towards her, like it was being controlled by someone else. She lifted her hand, but stopped for a moment when she saw his confused expression. Bile was rising in her throat. She reached out again and carefully – oh, so carefully – placed her hand on his cheek.

She felt it then.

Energy surged from her hand to his skin. It felt like an electric shock, but one that completely numbed her hand and made it addicting to walk away. It made her feel powerful. Coraline's lips fell open as the energy connected to every muscle, every tissue, in her system. It felt magical. This was something out of a movie.

She raised her hand just a little bit, not prepared for the sight. As her fingertips lifted from his cheek, she could see thin, glossy lines connecting her skin to his. They looked like thread made out of glitter, uniting their energies together. Coraline's eyes went wide. It was as if they had some kind of invisible bond.

"Did you feel that?" She whispered, finally removing her hand.

"Yeah," he nodded quickly. "It felt ..."

The two chorused together: "Awesome."

Coraline stared at her hand. She flexed it in and out. Biting her lip, she said, "I wonder how else we could feel that."

He raised a brow, perplexed. "I don't know what you're suggesting –"

Before she could stop herself, Coraline was leaning in and pressing her lips to his cheek. The energy surged more than ever before. It wavered from his cheek to her lips, flowing through her mouth and coating her entire throat. It felt like a drug, and she was already addicted.

She lifted her lips from his cheek, but her face was still an inch from his. The gap was too small, yet she didn't want to move away. Michael was staring at her with curiosity. For a boy of eighteen, he was looking at her like he found his first crush. His lips parted, inviting. Coraline pushed tufts of hair from his face.

"Can you ..." Michael paused, unsure of what to say. He tapped a finger to his mouth. "So we can feel it again?" His cheeks flushed. "Experimental, of course."

Coraline found her lips curling. "Experimental," she repeated.

Locking her hands around his cheeks, Coraline kissed him hard. The power – it never felt so good. It made her heart skip a beat. The threads around them tightened, trying to squish their insides together.

Michael was frozen in place as he contemplated what to do. He'd never kissed a girl before. In his ear, he heard a dark voice telling him to press on. Unite, it repeated. It is the power of the Trinity. And so, he did. Michael Langdon kissed Coraline Avery to their heart's content as the Father whispered in his ear. The glossy threads twisted around every part of their bodies, sewing them into a cocoon. It never felt better.

Coraline liked to think it was the bond that kept her kissing Michael Langdon. Or maybe their hearts were just hungry.

•••

A/N: BIG OOF

Guys grubby wilderness Michael can like,,,,,,,,,,,,,get it