Stockholm Syndrome | 5sos

0.9

"You what," I asked quietly, my eyes widening with confusion.

Michael simply nodded his head.

"You want to know something else," he mumbled.

I didn't answer but my staring must have tipped him off to continue.

"I was the one to find you the night after."

My mind flashed back to the memories I had of that day but the only thing I remembered was the morning when I started drinking and the next morning when I woke up ready to vomit.

"Where?"

He sighed and moved to sit beside me.

"You were sitting in a ditch drinking from a bottle in a brown paper bag with nothing but an oversized t-shirt on that I recognized as Ashton's a few miles from campus. I asked if you were alright, knowing full well what you were drowning in misery for. You rambled on and on about how you were so shitfaced that you wouldn't remember anything and that you had indeed slept with Ashton in the back of his pickup then he left you in the woods with just a bottle of Jack and his old shirt."

I let out a deep breath, allowing myself to stay calm despite the fragile state I was in.

"He used me," I stated dryly.

"He uses everyone," Michael replied solemnly.

He could tell that I was really upset so his arm snaked around my shoulder, trying to comfort me.

"What happened next," I questioned curiously as if I were a little child listening to their parents tell a bedtime story.

He sighed, but smiled, trying his best not to make me on the verge of tears.

"Well, you proceeded to talk about your father and how psychotic he was but how he was still amazing. And you began to cry so I picked you up and drove back to campus, bringing you to my room until morning when I could sneak in your room without Noel being there. I tucked you into your bed and walked back to my room where Luke had finally returned after sleeping on the floor at some frat house. He had asked me about the lipstick marks on my neck and I realized that you had probably sobbed into me when I picked you up. I walked into Ashton and Calum's room a few minutes later and told him off for everything."

I stayed quiet as he looked back over at me.

"Wow, Michael, you aren't one of them," I smiled, resting my head on his shoulder.

"Well I'm still part of the dick clique," he laughed quietly.

I frowned slightly.

"I don't think you're a dick, I like you better than the other three now."

"Not even Luke?"

I scoffed.

"He's a douche."

"He doesn't know about your dad," Michael whispered.

I closed my eyes, pictures of my dad running through my head, and an eerie silence played through the montage.

"Who killed him?"

"I would tell you if I could, believe me," he answered back frankly.