At Michael's, we made out a little before jumping into the pool he had. Because it was magically Summer all of the sudden and everything was just fucking sunshine and rainbows. I laid down on the rubber raft that glided me across the water as I relaxed, tanning in the sun. Whenever Michael did something that remotely involved movement, I started to laugh. He didn't know why.
Truth was, I was laughing because the real Michael would be hiding under the shade on his phone, complaining about how much of a dick the sun was. Just to make sure, I looked back every so often, trying to catch my Michael relaxing under the shade.
I missed my Michael.
I needed someone real to talk to in this headfuck.
Fake Michael just smiled at me and leant on the noodle.
"Hey, what are you thinking about?" he asked, looking a little sympathetic as I could feel the frown on my face.
"Just miss my family and friends back home, you know?" I shrugged. "They're losers, but I'm alright with that. I just wanna talk to them again." I turned around so my cheek was pressed against the hot plastic, and my hand was in the chlorine.
"Then call them."
"You don't get it." I shook my head. "They're in a whole other world." In fact, I wasn't even sure if they knew I was gone.
He pulled me off the raft and into the water, and I shivered. His smile was lopsided, was not in that Michael way, in that 'I'm trying to be Michael' way. "You've got me now."
I didn't even want to talk about it.
I got out of the pool, and dried myself off, making some lame excuse about where I was going. I knew where I wanted to be. Home. Broken down, fucked up, cramped home. Right then, that would've felt like heaven to sleep in my bed just one last time. Or to apologise to my sister.
If I'd known that this would've happened, I'd go back and say yes to going out with Michael and Luke to the movies. I'd say to my sister that I loved her. I'd take every opportunity and person that I was missing right now, and see them in a different light.
I just wanted to go home.
Halfway through me walking, the scene suddenly changed, and I was in Ashton's bedroom, arguing with him.
"Ashton, just admit it, you like me more than you like her."
It was probably the millionth time I'd said that.
I felt like a fucking girl.
It was probably the billionth time he'd said that.
He sounded like a fucking boy.
I clenched my fists as I went on a long rant about dumping his 'complication' on the head, and getting the fucking solution which was right in front of him. I picked some stuff off of his bookcase, throwing it at him. He flinched, defending himself the best he could.
"Stop it!" he yelled. "I'm going to have a shower. You better not be here when I get back."
After a few minutes of standing there uncertainly, I started to pick up the things I had thrown. A snow-globe, a few statues, a can of deodorant. When I got to the last item, I stood in shock. A book.
The one that had gotten me here.
Eagerly, I looked through it, but as I reached the end, there were blank pages. What the hell? I looked back to the last line. I looked back to the last line. I read. I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. It wrote as I could feel my eyebrows do the exact same.
"What the hell?" And then, the ink filled in, "What the hell?"
I freaked out and dropped it. Why would Ashton have a fanfiction? He'd only have that if he had a – no fucking way.
"I thought I told you to leave."
"You – You're stuck too?"