Twins | Malum

19

Michael was alone inside of the house all day -- watching movies, tossing popcorn in the air in hopes that he'd catch it when he really didn't, and cuddling with his teddy bear underneath his snuggie that he got for Christmas. It was warm. He couldn't stop thinking about the fact that Calum was out on a date with Mitchell and they were probably having the best day of their lives. Calum would choose Mitchell. That's something he knew of for sure.

So, he just tried not to cry as he watched hopeless romance movies. He was sad, but he was also mature and he'd get over it eventually. He wouldn't let somebody break his heart like that, and neither would Mitchell. That's the only thing that made them similar. They were strong even though the rest of the world saw them as weak. Calum wasn't strong.

He walked into Michaels house without knocking because he knew the door would be unlocked, and it was. Michael jumped off of the couch when realizing that Calum was crying and he looked a bit drunk, and the pale lad really didn't want to know where or how he got a hold of alcohol. "Are you okay?"

"Can I just -- can I just please lay down?"

"Did you drink?" Michael questioned, and Calum just shamefully nodded his head and looked down at his feet. This really was not turning out to be as good of a day as he planned. "You poor little thing, let's get you some water and a shower. You reek of that stuff."

Calum smiled sadly. At least Michael is still interested in him, right? Mitchell was but Calum took too long in trying to make a decision and that's what makes him an idiot. He didn't mean to ponder and wander for so long -- he just -- he was a kid, and he couldn't grow the fuck up. Everyone had to make decisions for him, and that made him seem and feel pathetic. "Thanks for being a friend."

"A friend?" Michael repeated, his voice cracking a bit. He knew that they weren't more -- they couldn't be. Mitchell was the one. It was obvious. "Yeah, friends do that for people they love and care about. Right. Friend."

"I'm sorry," Calum frowned, his lip quivering. He accepted the stack of clothes that Michael gave him and rushed up to take a shower. And when he was done, Michael was bombarding him with a million questions.

"So what happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

Calum was now picking at his fingernails, and Michael just smiled sadly now. He wasn't going to force his crush to talk about it. If he was a friend, then he'd have to do what a friend does. Cheer them up and be there for them -- but you can't kiss them if you're a friend. There'd have to be benefits involved. Is that all they were?

"What do you normally do when you're down?"

"My sister usually paints my nails," Calum mumbled with a lip bite following afterwards, and Michael just nodded. He definitely had a stash upstairs -- he liked painting his nails as well, just didn't do it often. "What color do you want? I can do them for you."

"Black."

Michael nodded and returned with a black coated nail polish, along with a few sticker decals. He was going to make the brunettes fingers look like swirls. Maybe that'd make him feel confident in himself for a little while.

So, Michael was painting Calum's nails, and Calum was sobbing because he was an idiot and had the mindset of a child and he didn't feel like he deserved such a wonderful guy. And when Michael stopped painting halfway through, he knew Calum was a mess. "Mitchell broke things off with me."