Star Signs ✮ Malum

Pretty Frickin' Punk

A/N: See what I did there? With the title? Pretty In Pink, Pretty Frickin' Punk? No? Okay...

Real talk; who's reading this for the jokes?

Honestly, I tell people these jokes in real life. They usually want to hit me because the joke is really lame but what kind of person would I be if I made decent jokes? Obviously not a cool one.

ALSO, So sorry for taking forever to update, one day I was really tired because I had the beep/pacer test and then the next day I was getting my hair dyed and the next day I had to watch the puppies and whatever but here I am :D

"Hey Cal?" Walking up to the mini buffet I was stationed at. He didn't seem to care that i had half a semi-large muffin stuffed in my mouth as I gestured for him to continue.

He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, looking anywhere but directly at me. "There's an award show going on in L.A. tomorrow and my date kind of cancelled on me. . ." He trailed off, looking a little unsure of himself.

I placed my hand firmly on his shoulder and shook him the tiniest bit, giving him a meaningful look.

"I was wondering if you'd like to go... With me... As a kind of plus one? Y'know? So you can get used to it and what not. I got the extra seat and it would be a shame if it went to waste..." He trailed off rather awkwardly and looked around, tugging on the hem of his soft pink and white striped tank top.

"Are you asking me to be your date, Mikey?" I snicker, leaning back against the refreshment trolley. The wheels make it slide back but I make it look like I didn't almost fall back by stepping closer to Michael.

He squeaks, taking a step back as a heavy red shade brightens up his pale cheeks. His cheeks now simultaneously match his hair and compliment his lips.

"Is there a reason your cheeks match your hair?" I inquired, taking another step towards him.

"N-No." He mumbled, letting out a weak scoff.

Our banter continued until Michael ended up with his back pressed against the side of the model car that was being used for the driving scenes.

"I-I guess if you want to, you could be my," he gulped, seeming to collect himself before he continued. "Date."

I open my mouth, kind of wanting to nail down that I would love to be his date, kind of wanting to compliment his current clothing choice-Pink and white tank top, black skinny jeans, a barely visible boy tucked into his hair, and chunky black combat boots-kind of wanting to pinch his cheeks because he's super adorable all flustered like that.

"Hood, we've got some things to discuss if you're planning on attending that award show." The casting director interrupted, a little aggressively. I push away from the car and bite my tongue to keep my retort at bay.

"Cal, this is my agent. And my mum. You can just call her Mrs. Clifford or something." Michael introduced, flapping his ghostly pale arms around exaggeratedly.

"Charmed, I'm sure." Mrs. Clifford greets sarcastically, a grin forming on her lips even though it was definitely more of a grimace.

"So we meet again." I state just as sarcastically, giving her a tight smile.

She seemed to like me when we met the first time, in Ms. Burns' class. Apparently pinning her son to a car prop was a big no-no.

"Follow me." She instructs, walking off before I get a chance to say anything. I glance at Michael, he shrugs.

"C'mon then." He says, fingers circling around my wrist as he pulls me in the direction his mum went. I follow, because I've really got anything else I can do in this situation.

Michael drags me down a narrow hall, we pass the voice-over studio and the spacious bathrooms.

We came to a door at the very end of the hall. It had a piece of paper taped to it that had simple font spelling out Mrs. Clifford.

Michael didn't hesitate when he tugged the door open. I didn't get much time to look around before she let out a sharp sit down.

The only things I remember spotting as I looked around was a picture of a canoe and a potted plant.

"It appears that the paparazzi has gotten wind of you." She begins once Michael and I are both seated in the uncomfortable plastic chairs provided.

She throws down a newspaper as she continues, "Luckily they don't seem to think you two are a couple, there probably are a few gay news reports swimming around but for now they view you as co-stars. Hood, you're appearance has begged the question: Who is he?"

She allowed us to take a moment to get a good look at the front page.

Upcoming Actor Has Lunch With Michael Clifford?

The title followed closely by a large picture, although it was incredibly low quality, you could clearly see Michael's bright red hair.

This picture was taken when I had chocolate milk, Michael, who was clearly annoyed at this point, was looking down at his phone and I had a straw in my hand and a large smile on my face.

"Basically, the entire article is breaking down your behaviour during your lunch with Michael." Mrs. Clifford said to me, gesturing lazily to the paper.

"What does that mean?" I ask, glancing from Mrs. Clifford to Michael.

Her expression is complete blank with a hint of business, Michael's reveals a little more but he puts on an act as soon as he realizes I'm looking at him, he looked worried.

"It means the world, right now, thinks you're a bundle of sunshine that giggles a lot. You've been judged on your attitude for those five minutes and have been labeled accordingly." She says.

"And?"

"It's my job as your agent, to make sure that the world likes you. Michael's first movie had him depicted as a bad boy and the media are that up. The media sees you as a bubbly flower child, it's my job to keep them liking you even if you don't like it." She explains in a clipped tone, finishing with a single raised eyebrow as if daring me to ask another question.

"You'll be attending the award show that Michael's going to in clothes a stylist has picked out for you and Michael here, will coach you in how to act in public." Mrs. Clifford says dismissively, waving her hand toward the door.

Once Michael and I were out in the hall I let out a huge breath.

"Looks like we have to switch personalities and appearance out in public."

I look down at my Sublime shirt and all black attire to Michael's muted black clothing and pink tank top.

"Looks like we can borrow each other's clothes." Michael jokes.

"Hey Cal?" He asks as we continue walking.

I hum for him to continue.

"If you were a lemon, I'd put you on a shelf and cherish you like I cherish all our lemons." He says, a tiny, cute smile playing on his lips.

"Well," I stop, thinking about how to respond to that. "If you were a lemon, I'd stay away from you because you always give me this sour look, and you make terrible pie."

[A/N: Lemon conversation curtesy of an actual conversation I had with calsqueezy .

I've been getting a lot of story ideas recently and it's annoying because I want to write them but there's like nine and I have other fics in the works and ugh.]