:: 14 ::
The world wasn't on his side, Michael decided. Nothing has worked in his favor lately.
Ever since Saturday, Michael had been so anxious and paranoid about every task he did, even if it were something as simple as taking the garbage out. Losing always messes with his head, but this time around it seemed much worse than it had ever been. Maybe it was because someone so important was watching him and he allowed himself to get sidetracked and distracted. It was all his own fault.
He completely embarrassed himself in front of everyone, too. Not only with the loss, but with how much he overreacted and had a pathetic panic attack over something so usually simple. Michael may get upset when he does something wrong, but he'll never admit it. He knows he never will, because that's who he is.
He's a Clifford. They all seem to run from their problems.
Even if Michael did admit it, going back to school would feel so awkward for him—something it never is. Michael has always been the one with his head held high and an attitude that people are intimidated by. If he walked into school with the attitude he has now, he'd seem weak.
Of course, his dad wouldn't let him just not go to school. If Michael told him that the reason he wanted to stay home was because he was terrified of having to face the entire student body, and he felt like crying the moment he woke up, the man would brush him off and tell him to get up or they'd be late. It's just how things were. Michael didn't want to believe he had something wrong with his mental health at the moment and his father has never believed that his family could ever have anything wrong with their mental health.
That's why Michael had to walk into the school so he wouldn't get suspicious or start asking questions. Then, somehow, find a door out of the school that didn't set off an alarm and have his security camera picture sent to every teacher's email. It was hard, but he managed. And it's not like his father could check on him throughout the day and see him in the halls, because the man had to stay in the gymnasium all day.
The walk home was worth it, even though Michael hates going fifteen minutes with no entertainment. Staying home didn't help anything, though. All of the thoughts he had and sadness he felt was still sat brewing to a point where it felt like all he could do was cry.
Michael has never felt legitimately sad. That's the problem with this whole situation, and why it's so hard to handle. He was still trying to figure out the reason for any of it. Sure, Andrew Hemmings was there. Luke was there, and it's been determined that maybe Michael kind of has the smallest attraction toward him. But, Michael has had people he needed to impress before—all the time, really. Proving himself to two more people shouldn't have been a problem.
It should be evidence enough that he was good through the trophies organized on his dresser and team pictures hung up on his walls. That's never enough for Michael. It won't ever be, he thinks.
With a sigh, Michael stood from his bed and walked through the hallway into the bathroom. Along the way he winced with the pressure added to his side and spine. Sometimes even with equipment made to protect you, it never did. When he got checked hard into the side of the rink a week and a half ago, the pain was still there—not that he's done anything to rest himself besides that day his father made him take off, but still.
Taking his shirt off, Michael turned to the mirror and looked over the almost faded, yellow bruise on his side, wondering if he was ever too hard on himself. Because, a normal person would rest for at least a few days after something like that, right? Yes, usually—but not when it comes to sports. Such a weak injury—if it could even be classified as one—shouldn't be taken as such a big deal.
(Besides, Michael wasn't very normal anyway; that's one thing he'll admit freely.)
And it wasn't a big deal. Michael could handle a little pain.
Later, Michael was thinking a lot more than he should. Again. This time, though, it was about Luke—which shouldn't be much of a surprise anymore; too much of his mind decided that it needed to make room for Luke in his everyday thoughts. That's not how Michael works. He does not put some silly, attractive, annoying guy before sports and achievement.
He didn't mean to go off on Luke like that. Calum wasn't even coming over, Michael was just in a mood and took it out on him and said something that he figured would make Luke upset. The boy knew Michael so well already and it'd only been two and a half months. Michael felt like he didn't know Luke very well at all.
He didn't want Luke to leave. He didn't even want Luke to hang out with Penelope, if he's being honest. She was a girl and Luke likes girls and—Michael shouldn't be thinking about relationships at all.
That's one thing he forgot was one his list of problems that seemed to be piling up lately. Forgetting about it made Michael wonder if he was even in the friendship with Luke for the attention anymore. Which, it seems he isn't. There's just no way to tell Luke without making him more upset than he already is. Again, because of Michael.
Sitting quietly in his bed and staring up at the ceiling, Michael jumped when he heard his father shouting for him from what seemed to be downstairs. His dad hadn't said anything about school when he got home, which was reassuring. Michael also had a better chance of not being caught because Daryl always stays a little later than the students, just like a lot of the teachers. Things looked pretty good, to say the least.
All while walking slowly to try not to slip down the wood stairs, Michael had a smile on his face despite wanting to freak out all day because one thing finally went his way.
Seeing Michael enter the dining room, Daryl straightened his posture, looked at him with disapproval in his eye, and said, "Luke said he couldn't find you today." Okay, so maybe Michael lied. Things don't look very good. "And I got a call from the school that you were absent."
Michael tried not to swear at himself in front of his father, which proved incredibly difficult because, how the hell did he forget that the school calls your parents when you're not there?
"Yes, well, the obvious explanation is—" he began, then quickly turned to run out of the room. He had one foot past the entryway before he heard his father's voice.
"Michael Gordon!" Fuck, he knows that voice; maybe skipping wasn't such a good idea.
And, yeah, his dad is a nice guy, and he's probably the best father that Michael could've ever been born to, but certain things do not get past him. This was one of those things.
With his eyes squeezed shut, Michael turned around and tensed when peeking through one eye to see the older man with a harsh expression. "I'm...sorry?"
Unamused, Daryl shook his head. "You know well that you're not."
"Well, you weren't going to let me stay home, so," Michael sassed, immediately relaxing his body only to become defensive. It wasn't a good idea, but he didn't seem to be having too many of those lately. Why not add to the list?
"You never asked, Michael."
Suddenly, Michael's attitude deflated as he thought about what he realized early. No, Dad, I didn't. Because I'm supposed to be tough, is what Michael wanted to say, just to egg him on more. But, what he actually did tell his father wasn't very tough at all. Once again, he's weakweakweak.
"Because I knew you'd find it stupid and tell me to suck it up! I just wanted to take a break from everything." Michael lowered his voice as soon as it cracked in the slightest and looked up at his dad, finally admitting, "I don't know what's wrong with me, Dad."
"Nothing is wrong with you, boy," Daryl sighed. "Did anything happen on Saturday?"
Michael calmed down long enough to sit at the dining table, and then slumped his shoulders again. He stared at the food in front of him, shrugging, "No—I mean, yeah. We lost."
"Besides losing," his dad clarified with a roll of his eyes. "You know, if you don't tell me I could ground you for longer than I'm already planning to."
"You can't ground me for my feelings!" Michael yelled jokingly, his dad chuckling when a fry was sent his way.
"I can for skipping school," the older man shrugged, eating the fry that landed directly in front of him. "Just tell me what happened. You can trust me."
"But you're my dad and it's weird," Michael whined. He lay his head down on the table, propping himself on top of his arms.
In Michael's opinion, it really shouldn't be this weird to talk to his dad about what's happening inside of his mind, or in his everyday life that's got him so worked up lately. Especially if the man has acted as both parental figures and his coach for practically Michael's whole life. But it is, it felt strange. Like the things he felt or thought would get shot down.
He could get over it though, right? He'll try. "It's, like—I know I always get kind of sad and stuff after bad games, but this time I just...I freaked out. Like, really bad."
"Oh, okay," Daryl said. "Might have to learn how to get out of your own head during games, then." Michael tried not to cry. For the past forty-eight hours, that's become kind of normal. But, what Michael wasn't used to was how much it actually hurt to have your current anxiety dismissed by just being your fault. Or, that's what his dad implied.
Michael knew this would happen. He knew that his dad wouldn't acknowledge that his son had a mental flaw.
The world still isn't on his side.
• • •
I CUT THIS OFF AT A WEIRD TIME BUT I NEEDED A BUNCH OF STUFF TO HAPPEN NEXT CHAPTER michaels mind is also everywhere srry
no but rlly 8k !!! 1k votes !!! it is RAINING from my EYEBALLS
question tho!! if i made a snapchat specifically for ppl from my fan accs to let me goof off and be dumb would u let me bc my sc stories are getting out of hand i need a safe place 2 be funny/annoying