Mirrors | Malum

19

I began to walk away with my head down and my hands digging into the seam of my jean pockets, until I heard a familiar voice. The voice that has given me so much hope these past couple of weeks. The sound of the harmonies that flew through each of my ears and made my heart paddle inside of my chest like a boat in water, and that aching feeling that longed to be comforted by arms and words and a boy with beautiful, bright hair.

"Calum."

"Michael," I whispered slightly, not sure to respond because I was still in shock that he even showed up after my choice of words.

"I'm so sorry. So unbelievably sorry and I know it's something you don't want to hear, because we are just forsaken acquaintances looking for an answer as to why we are living in the pits of hell every single day, but I want you to know that seeing you is what makes me feel like I'm not living that way and I made you something to prove that."

I looked at the white paper he held between his small fingers and examined how it read Calum with a black, checkered heart next to it. His writing was decent looking and it seemed as though he had put a lot of effort into it.

"What is it?" I questioned, knowing that I meant to tell him he didn't need to give me anything, but I was more than curious about what he made specifically for me.

"Just open it."

I nodded, taking the piece of chalklike paper from his hands, and I held my breath because there was a possibility that what he was giving me could be bad but it was unlikely. It didn't stop the worry from taking over, though.

As I opened it, a smaller piece of paper fell from my hands and I watched as it fell to the ground like a leaf blowing in the wind, after removing itself from the branch of a tree and I took in the fact that it was a drawing, which wasn't exactly the most perfect thing in the world but it was something. It wasn't about how amazing it was put together, but more about the effort and how he actually tried.

There was a picture of two stick figures sitting on a bench, the first one having a journal on his lap and a cup of coffee next to him, while the other one had an appearance that was practically breathtaking for a stick figure.

"Is this supposed to be us?"

Michael nodded shyly, and once again, I could feel those butterflies swarming around inside of my stomach because he remembered that I liked squeezing lemon in my water myself, he remembered that I didn't like labels and he most importantly remembered the first time we met.

"Please read the poem so I can stop feeling so nervous," Michael practically begged, his words being overly eager and his body being filled of sentimental excitement and anxiety. I was worried as well.

"Dear, Calum.

I'm not a very sappy person, but I wrote you a poem in hopes that it'd make you forgive me.

So, here it goes.

You were a dream;
One I've never seen before.
You were large sweaters
And boundless days
Sweltering hugs
And facetious plays.

You were airplane rides
And city exploring
Hotel rooms
And long filled deploring
You were melodies
And harmonies
Coming from the
Speakers from behind
You were someone
I've never met before
Someone
I wanted to find
You were a dream
That felt like reality
Except you came true
And now I'm stuck here
Hopeless
Cause I think
I need you.

Love,

Michael.

"You wrote this about me?"

"And for you, yes."

"Michael, its beautiful."

"Like you?" Michael replied, that gorgeous smile of his playing on his plump, pink lips that would fit mine perfectly but I wasn't going to admit that.

"I'm trying to be nice, here."

"You're always nice, Calum."

I frowned, thinking back to the events of yesterday and how I messed up with him. How I was rude to somebody who only wanted to see me float in clouds rather than lay in darkness. And for hating on somebody who only wanted the best in me, and now I hate myself for dragging him down with me.

"I'm not. I don't deserve your kind gestures."

I watched Michael sigh as he willed himself closer to me, our bodies close enough to touch if one of us made one more movement. I could practically feel his breath fanning against my neck, but I wouldn't admit that.

"It was just a rough day and I had no right to interfere with something you didn't want. I went down to the department and told Will you changed your mind. He was pretty sad about it, but he understood."

I smiled slightly, feeling upset that I disappointed another person, but also happy because he went out of his way to change something that he shouldn't have changed in the first place.

"But my family thinks I'm enrolled now and there's no getting out of that."

"So pretend, and if you feel uncomfortable doing it alone, I'll do it with you."

I felt the butterflies again, except they were stronger this time and I desperately wanted to hug him and thank him for everything, but we only recently labeled ourselves as friends and he might think we aren't because of what I said recently.

"I still don't understand why you bother being my friend. I'm not saying this to push you away. I'm just confused, because I'm a disaster with demons and all you see is an angel."

Michael moved closer, our bodies now touching, and I could feel his hand hesitantly rubbing circles in my back, until I gave him permission that it was okay, by which he continued softly and lovingly and friendly, which made everything seem more beautiful.

"Everybody's got their demons."

"Even you?"

"Of course. But you make them go away."

I was beyond shocked at this point. All I've ever wanted was to live and to feel alive, to ignore the voices inside of my head because I thought that while everyone around me was happy, I was the only one with demons. But Michael has them too and I'm helping him.

At this point, I allowed my arms to wrap around his petite figure, and he stopped rubbing my back to wrap his arms around my waist, and we just stayed that way for at least two minutes until we pulled away to breathe and to think.

"I hope that one day you find somebody who loves you and I also hope you find somebody to love."

Michael stepped back as a way to stare at me, and I could see all of his flawless imperfections under the laminated yellow lights that needed to be fixed because they made everything seem like a blur, except for Michael. Because he isn't a blur, he's beautiful. 

"I already did."

-

A/N:

Michaels drawing in the picture above.

Ily all. Thanks for the votes and reads.