Storm 》Clifford A.U

028;

        ANOTHER GIRL SNUCK into Calum and Michael's dorm last night. I guess Michael thought that I wouldn't notice since I wasn't technically in the room when it happened. And trust me, I really wish I didn't notice. But sadly, I did. And it kind of made me feel like absolute shit.

         I could barely sleep because I just kept thinking about that drawing. That stupid, stupid drawing that made my heart race and my bones ache. That stupid drawing that probably didn't mean anything to him.

        Somewhere in the middle of the night I walked out into the common area and I brought Darya's journal with me. I figured that it would take my mind off of Michael and that it would help me be productive. I was starting to reach the last few entries though, and that terrified me. I knew there would be an abrupt ending. I knew that I was running out of clues and time and worst of all; hope. Darya had started to write less frequently and with a lot less detail. I was guessing that she was either low on time or she just preferred talking to Ashton and Ivy instead of writing everything down. Maybe it was a little bit of both.

      Anyway, I was out there for like twenty minutes just reading when I saw her. She had her hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun; the kind that looks perfect even though it probably only took her ten seconds to do. I could never get my messy buns to look that good. I hated her already for walking around looking that great at three in the morning. I hated her a little more when I noticed that she was just wearing a robe. And when she knocked on door C14 and a groggy, shirtless Michael opened it, I wanted to rip that bun right off of her head. 

      I wonder if he would have invited her over if I were in the room. I wonder where he thought I was spending the night. I wonder if he put away the drawing of me before she showed up. And I was kind of wondering why he felt the need to call her over in the middle of the night. He really couldn't even wait until the morning?

      Every time I thought I was close to figuring Michael out, he proved me totally wrong. I get that he had a really shitty childhood, but that doesn't really give him a right to act like a shitty person. I really hated that people always used that as an excuse. They think it's like a get out of jail free card, and they totally took advantage of it whenever they could. It's like...I understand that your upbringing was hard but maybe you should start focusing on how to better yourself instead of making stupid decisions over and over again.

      Maybe it was my fault. Maybe since I told him that we should stop having sex, he felt like he should just get it from somewhere else. I guess that in a way, that made sense. I just feel like part of me hoped he wouldn't want it from somewhere else. Part of me hoped that he actually cared about me, at least a little bit. But I guess I was wrong.

     I stood burrowed underneath my sweatshirt in the hallway for what felt like hours. Eventually, the perfect girl with the perfect bun snuck out of Michael's dorm, holding onto her robe tighter than ever. I pretended to be asleep when she walked past me and then I waited another few minutes before I went back into the room myself. 

     Michael had fallen asleep again. I felt like a total creep just standing there staring at him, but I couldn't help it. I felt like something else had been taken away from me. I felt like all I ever did lately was lose anything that I ever cared about. But I should have listened when he told me not to get attached. I should have listened when he told me that he would be my own personal storm. Because he was right. He really didn't care about anything or anyone.

       It's a terrible thing, really. People can just manipulate you whenever they feel like it and you can't really stop it.  They can make you care about them, they can lure you in with false pretenses, and then, when you get too close, they just pull away. They leave you wondering where you went wrong. I actually thought that I had managed to stop myself before I got in too deep. I thought that I didn't really care about Michael all that much. But I kind of feel like my heart's been ripped out of my chest and thrown into oncoming traffic so, I guess I was wrong. It's kind of funny how most of the time we don't realize how much we care about something until we don't have it anymore. 

      I wanted to ask Michael about the drawing. I wanted him to know that I saw it. But part of me felt that if I did that, I would ruin everything. Not that there was much left to ruin, anyway.

      And then, there was another part of me that didn't even know what I wanted. If I'm being honest, I really shouldn't be allowed to want anything right now other than my sister's safety anyway. I felt shitty the entire night and yet, I still couldn't stop thinking about Michael. What kind of a sister was I?

      Luke and I talked for two hours over the phone last night, too. He had called me, and I was so eternally grateful. Luke kind of had this superpower where he always knew, without fail, when I was feeling a little worse than usual. Obviously, the past month and a half had been hell without Darya. But last night, he sensed that I needed him a little more than I wanted to admit. I just needed my best friend, needed some kind of support system.

      He updated me on work and told me that Derek missed having me around. Apparently, I still made the best chicken alfredo hands down. I was happy that at the very least,  I would always have a job with Luke and with Derek doing what I loved. 

      I finally throw the covers off of my body and rise from the floor, tiptoeing to the bathroom. I had about two hours of sleep under my belt, and I was just about to engage in what could be the scariest conversation in my entire life. I was nowhere near ready, but I did this to myself. I was the idiot who thought texting Olivia was a good idea. I only hoped that she knew something, anything. Because if she didn't, I just brought her back into Ashton's life for nothing.

      I am in the middle of brushing my teeth when Michael comes into the bathroom, nervously pulling the ends of his oversized sweater over his hands.

       "So...I'm guessing you saw it." He mumbles, quietly stepping further into the room and shutting the door behind him. This bathroom was way too small for two people to be in it at the same time. Especially with the door closed. Especially when I had no idea what to respond and when all I wanted was to run out of the door, out of this building, out of this messed up life where I don't know where my sister is. I think for a second, wondering if the "it" he's talking about is his sketch or the girl. A second later, he answers the question for me. "I guess it was my bad to fall asleep while drawing, huh?"

      "Okay yeah, I saw it." I respond, rinsing the toothpaste out of my mouth and wiping my lips on the back of my hand. 

       "It's for my project. The one I've been working on for most of the semester." Michael takes in a sharp breath and shuts his eyes for a second, almost like he's thinking really hard about what he wants to say next. "I'm supposed to draw something I find beautiful." Oh my God. 

       "Why...why would you tell me that?" My voice sounds harsh, meaner than I intended. But seriously, what did he want from me? How could he say one thing and do another? How could he disengage and dissociate whenever the hell he felt like it, and then be vulnerable and open and caring the next? He was playing a game, and I was really fucking tired of it. I couldn't have everything on his terms. I couldn't give him any more of myself than I already had.

       "Because maybe I want things to start meaning something, Alina."

       "Until you get bored." 

      "I don't think that's possible." He places his hand underneath my chin and pulls my face closer to his, emerald green eyes locked upon mine. "I like you, okay? And I'm really tired of pretending not to care." 

        "You like the idea of me, Michael. That's not the same thing. You don't even know me." I pull myself away from him and open the bathroom door, eager to leave. I unplug my phone from the charger, throw my bag over my shoulder, and leave without another word. I needed to focus on the important things. My phone buzzes and I quickly unlock it, pulling up the message thread with Ashton and I. I had his number saved as "Ashley" (minus the hot) though, just in case.

         ASHLEY: Olivia just texted me. You should hurry.