Graffiti Girl // Michael Clifford

|| 12 ||

You're not the same. You can see it in your eyes. I can see it on your face. You're hoping for a taste.

«Dead Walker Texas Ranger» Sleeping With Sirens

-----

Michael's POV

I knock on the door.

Ring the doorbell.

Knock.

Ring.

Repeat.

No answer.

I check my phone to see if I am too early or something, but it says it's one in the afternoon. We had agreed on noon so...

I decide to just send her a text.

From: Mikey
i'm outside. where are you?

I start kicking around a rock I find on her porch while I wait for her to respond. I am about to just call her when I hear someone moving from behind the door. When it opens, Andi is standing in the doorway in a black tank top, pajama shorts, two different socks, and a dark grey jumper three times her size hanging unzipped. Her hair is in a messy ball on top of her head and her face is just as disgruntled.

"What did I say about waking me up?!" she barks. I actually take a step back from the doorway.

"Uh, babe, it's one. Like... in the afternoon..." I mumble, a little scared of her response.

She scoffs and reaches to grab my phone from my back pocket. How she knew it would be there without even looking, I don't even think to ask. When the time lights up on the screen, she glares at it until moving her harsh gaze to me. I raise my hands in defense.

"Fine. Let's go," she grumbles and steps aside to let me through. "But don't expect me to get all dolled up for you."

"You really don't like being woken up, do you?" I chuckle.

"I don't like waking up--end of story," she mutters and starts leading me up the stairs.

"You have to wake up," I laugh. "Otherwise you're just dead."

She doesn't give me a response and just keeps walking straight ahead, never looking back at me. I give her back a curious stare but let it slide. We pass the the room we hung out in last time, stopping only once we reach the end of the hallway. The white door is plain except for a black letter A enclosed in an outlined circle. I've seen that symbol before, somewhere. It has some sort of meaning, but I don't remember what. Although it is pretty cool her mom would let her spray paint her door. My mom would flip.

She still doesn't say a word as she opens the door an shows me through. I look around her room, curiously walking around and studying the pictures and artwork littering the walls and shelves. The left wall is completely covered in posters. Most are of bands, most of which I recognize or have at least heard the name in passing. There are at least five of Sleeping With Sirens. Then there are some like Pierce the Veil, All Time Low, Bring Me The Horizon, Of Mice & Men, Daughtry, A Day To Remember, Mayday Parade, and Black Veil Brides. I guess I shouldn't be surprised that that's the kind of stuff she's into. I've even heard her listening to some of these while she paints.

The rest of the walls are painted an extremely dark purple. Her bed is pressed up against the left corner. There's no headboard--just a box spring under a mattress. Her sheets are black and her comforter lays unmade, in a ball. I can see a pattern peaking through. It seems to be some sort of black-lined design, but I can't tell what the image is of. Above the head of the bed, spray painted in white this time, is another letter A. This one is made up of two bold strips bordering another, creating a blank space between them.