There's only been a week pass since the whole kissing thing happened. And I haven't done anything. That is the worst thing, not doing anything.

I've lied to everyone as an excuse to not be put under any pressure. I tell them I have a headache and an extremely sore throat but in reality, I just broke my confidence and motivation.

Michael has wanted to talk to me countless times and I have wanted to talk to him countless times. The reason we don't talk is that I still don't know what to say and I assume he doesn't know what to say.

I like him.

That's it. I have feelings for him and damn, they are strong. But I'm worried he doesn't like me. I'm worried this is all a joke and he's hated me all along. I'm worried that if we do get together, everyone will start to hate me.

And in the past week, that's all I've gotten from life, that I'm a useless piece of junk that can't make up her mind.

"You need to come out now," Ashton said, opening the curtain to my bed, much to my displeasure. "You've been in there too long and I think it's just about time that you and I actually talk."

"I can't talk much," I said. I was even lying to him about being sick. "My throat is so sore."

"That's bull and we both know what this is actually about," he told me. "Michael doesn't need to tell me because I can kind of guess."

"I don't want to tell you," I told him. "I don't even want to talk to you, Ash."

"Well I'm going to force you to whether or not you like it," he said, pulling on my arm. Times like these are the times I am thankful to be clean from self harm. These times are when someone is holding my usually stinging wrist. Now people don't look to my wrist. Now people don't use me to say sorry to. Now I'm free to be what I want.

"Fine," I said, jumping out of the bed.

Ashton, still with his hand with a grasp on my wrist, dragged me to the back room which held all the memories. All my strength was being used not to cry in this situation. Honestly, this wasn't the place to be.

As I took in surroundings, I realized that I wasn't alone in there. Oh no, not only was there Ashton who had just let go of my wrist, there was also Luke in there. Now I'm just waiting for Calum to jump out and scare me.

"Where's Cal?" I said the only thing I could think of to break the uncomfortable silence.

"He's gone out with Michael," Luke answered. "We planned this so Michael wouldn't be around when we talk."

"What is there to talk about?" I asked as I sat on the comfortable lounge.

"Michael has been fucked up for an entire week," Ashton told me. "Fucked up meaning he can barely get through the set without crying. As soon as we finish off playing, he'll collapse to his knees. We don't know what to do."

They sure know how to make me feel crap. They should realize that even though I haven't spoken to Michael and hated him (and the rest of them) for months, knowing he is sad, makes me even worse.

"I'm sorry," was all I managed to say. But what am I really supposed to say? Am I supposed to say 'well he stole my first kiss in front of the entire world and I made the stupid decision from hiding away from him'?

"We know what happened," Luke said. "It's impossible for us not to see that video. It's on TV for crying out loud. What happened there? Was it planned? We asked Michael and he punched me in the stomach."

Luke pulled his shirt up revealing not only an amazing body (but not as perfects as Michael's), but also a massive bruise. It was coloured in a purple/blue colour. It honestly looked like it hurt a hell of a lot.

"Michael kissed me and that's about it," I shrugged. "I had no say in it. He literally took my first kiss in front of the entire fan-base. Also Ashton, you basically told the viewers that he liked me so..."

"Now I'm part of this?" Ashton asked, confused.

"Since I realized that he may have liked me, he decided it was okay when in reality, I wasn't happy about it happening," I admitted.

"Well shit," Ashton shook his head. "I can't do anything now. But Hay, you can talk to him. You can make him happy. By saying anything to him, he'll smile."

"I have spent the past seven days in my bed and you think I can just go and talk to Mikey?" I asked. "It's not that simple. What do I even say to him?"

"You don't have to say that you like him, even if you do, and we know you do, it's obvious," Luke told me. "But you need to smile and tell him that no matter what's going on, you'll be there for him. Tell him you are sorry for not being there for a week. Just anything."

"He'd be happy to hear you say you need to poop," Ashton told me, making me laugh a little. "Just talk to him."

"Fine," I shrugged. "I'll go out tonight with him."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," Ashton repeated the two words over and over while giving me a hug. Although Luke was silent at the moment, he also joined in on the hug.

The boys left me after a few minutes and I retreated to the bathroom. Sadly, getting out of bed only meant to go to the toilet. I had no motivation to get changed or even shower. Shower!? I am usually so hygienic. But I supposed, in severe depression, that's the last thing I want to think about.

I had a shower and made myself smell a lot better. I also changed out of my sweat pants and ugly (yet comfortable) jumper and put on a pair of jeans, ones with rips at the knees along with something out of my comfort range. I wore a black crop top. Yes, something to show my ugly and fat stomach which was covered in scars. The scars are fading, not noticable unless you're extreamly close. For my comfort and warmth, I also put on a grey cardigan.

When I left, I found Michael and Calum were back from their mysterious walk.

"You're up," Michael commented awkwardly.

"Finally realized it was time to get off my ass and do more than lay around all day," I lied. I was actually forced to do that but he didn't need to know.

"That's good."

[a.n. im sick and tired and fucking sad and oops. here's a chapter though. also, i kinda like a chapter idk. i haven't written for days :(]

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