"I cannot believe you convinced me to do this, Michael."
Michael chuckled slightly, his hands moving through the clothes. I had a pout on my face, my arms were folded over my chest, and my ankles were crossed over each other. I leaned my back against the wall, watching Michael move around the area.
"What do you think of this one?" Michael asked, holding up a suit for me to see.
"I thought you already had your suit," I told him.
"This is for you, idiot," Michael said with a scoff. "Well? What do you think?"
"I'm not even going to the Formal."
"Well, you're at the mall with me, shopping for suits for the Winter Formal. So, I think that it's okay for me to assume that you're going to the Formal."
I glared at him. "I am not going to the Formal, and that's final."
Michael clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "Live a little, Luke! The Winter Formal is just for seniors. This is the only time this will happen, Luke. Don't you want this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity?"
I put my index finger on my chin, pretending to think about it. "Nah."
Michael let out a sigh, and he put the suit back on the rack. "Do you want to try on some suits? Just for the hell of it."
I shook my head, and Michael pouted.
"C'mon, Lucas. Since you're not going to the formal, the least you could do is try on some suits and not buy anything just to annoy the workers. Please?"
I rolled my eyes, but I uncrossed my arms. "Fine. One suit, and that's it."
Michael squealed, clapping his hands together. I went to the rack in front of me, grabbing a random suit, and Michael stopped me. He had a suit in his hands, and knowing it was for me, I groaned. He only put the suit in my hands and pushed me towards the dressing room, because Michael was a nice person like that.
"Do I have to try on this one?" I asked.
"Of course you do!" Michael said on the other side of the door. "You may not be going to the Winter Formal, but you can at least try on some fancy suit and pretend you're taking Rylee someplace fancy."
"You're never going to stop with the Rylee comments, are you?"
"I like seeing you flustered."
"I hate you."
"No, you don't."
"...You're right."
"Aren't I always?"
I rolled my eyes and let out a sigh. I stood in front of the dressing room mirror, taking in my appearance. I suppose if I covered my face, the suit didn't look half bad. I fixed my tie, brushed off my jacket, and I opened the door. Michael stood in front of me with a smile on his face and his camera phone with his hands.
"You look great," he said with a smirk.
"Go fuck your boyfriend."
"Gladly."
I went back in the dressing room and took off the suit. I enthusiastically changed back into my All Time Low shirt and skinny jeans. I didn't bother tying up my black Chuck Taylor's, and I walked out the door. Michael was leaning up against the wall, and his thumbs were flying over his phone.
"Texting Ashton?" I asked.
"More like sending him the picture of you in the suit."
"I really hate you."
"No you don't."
"I'm starting to think that I do."
"Except you don't."
I sighed. "You're right. I don't."
Michael had a sly smile on his face. He grabbed his own suit and went to the check stand. He paid for the suit, and he automatically ran to a bubblegum stand. I rolled my eyes at the action, and I talked to the cashier.
"I'd like to put this suit on hold," I said softly. "I'll buy it tomorrow."
She took the suit with a smile. I walked up to Michael, who so kindly bought me a bubblegum, and walked out the mall on the way to Starbucks.
✘✘✘
"Like this? No..."
I swept my hair across my face, and I cringed. That's how I had my hair in middle school, and I do not want to go back there.
I looked at the jar of hair gel at the corner of the sink, and I dipped my hand in the gunk. I brushed the gel through my hair, moving my hair so that it was standing up. I was satisfied with the look, and put more gel in my hair.
I decided to change my lip ring to a stud for the night. I polished my black Chuck Taylor's and brushed off the jacket and pants. I retied my bow tie over and over, just to make sure it looked okay. I looked in the mirror, and for once in my life I looked somewhat presentable.
I told Liz that I was going to walk to school. She offered to drive me. Liz has been like that over the past month and a half. Ever since she found out about my being suicidal, she's been treating me like a prince. She's offered to eat all my favorite foods, she's suddenly been interested in the games I play, she's taken interest in the music I listen to (though, not long ago, she called all of the Little Mix girls ugly—do you see logic in that?), and she even started watching Sherlock and Doctor Who. She's been doing so many things to try and make me feel better, but it's not helping. Liz's sudden change of attitude just show's me that she never loved me in the first place.
"If you bring any girls home tonight, you're grounded, Lucas!" my dad called.
I walked out the door before my dad could say any more about crazy teenage parties.
✘✘✘
"Maybe they'll leave you alone, but not me!" I shouted as I walked down the street. I was glad the suit pants had pockets—I gladly took my iPhone and headphones with me. I always looked down at the floor while I walked, but I looked up once I saw blue lights flashing on the pavement.
I felt an uneasy feeling in my stomach. "This is not going to end well," I whispered to myself.
Hesitantly, I took the headphones out of my ears. I walked into the auditorium, and the first thing I heard was screaming.
"YOU LYING MOTHERFUCKER!"
All the lights in the room reflected off the lavender hair, so it was very easy to see him walking towards me. The white in his suit also seemed to give off a glow. In fact, you could see the white on people everywhere. Everyone was dancing or fooling around, and I felt sick to my stomach.
"Nice eyebrow piercing," I said, giving him a smirk.
"Shut up," Michael growled. He was now the one with his arms crossed over his chest, and he gave me a death glare. "What do you have to say for yourself?"
"Well, I'm really excited to get to the snack bar—"
"Shut up," Michael repeated. "Say you're sorry."
"What for?"
"Lying to everyone."
"I'm sorry. Better?"
"Yes. Now that we're done..." Michael let out a sigh, running his hands through his hair. He fixed it up a bit—it was messy, and I can't help but get the slightest feeling that Ashton had something to do with it—and he cleaned up his suit. He turned back to me and gave me a smile.
"Holy shit, Luke, you look hot!" Michael exclaimed.
"Ahem," someone said behind us.
Michael turned around, cupped Ashton's face, and brought their lips together. "I love you."
"'I love you' doesn't help," Ashton said with a pout.
"It sure seemed to have an effect when we were making out in the bathroom about five minutes ago—"
"Just shut up and kiss me," Ashton breathed. They put their lips together once again, and I was a victim of watching. I decided to let the couple do their own thing, and I walked further into the auditorium. I decided to go to the snack bar and get a cup of soda. I reached out for an Oreo, and that's when someone called me name.
"Luke! I thought you weren't gonna show," Rylee said with a smile.
I shrugged. "I changed my mind."
Rylee nodded. "You look nice."
I felt the blood rushing onto my cheeks, and I tried to push it away by drinking some soda. "So do you," I said with a slight shake. "I like your hair."
"Thanks. They're going to play a few games soon, so I'm going to head back to the dance floor. I'll see you around." She flashed me a smile, and I swore that my heart melted at that very moment.
I couldn't help but stare at Rylee as she walked away from me. She had a nice black dress that was adorned with lace. She had bangs that swept across the right side of her face, and she had a fishtail braid running down her right shoulder. She was wearing worn-out black Vans, which made me smile, since I was sort of doing the same thing. Rylee was just...beautiful.
"Ask her to dance," Michael whispered next to me.
"I thought you were making out with Ashton. H-how did you end up next to me?"
Michael brought his index and middle finger, made a V, pointed at his eyes, and then at mine. "I'm always watching, Lucas. I see everything."
I huffed out a breath, but I chuckled slightly. I crossed my arms over my chest, but kept my right arm mobile so that I could drink my soda.
"Ask her to dance," Michael said again.
"No, thanks," I said. "I already had to come to this stupid Formal."
Michael chuckled beside me, and he took a swig of his soda. "You should still ask."
"She doesn't like me."
"You'll never know unless you try."
I stopped for a second, and I stole a glance at Michael. "You said that you were going to tell me the story of how you and Ashton came to be. Since we're both drunk off soda, care to tell me?"
Michael smiled, not looking at me. "I don't think you're ready for it yet."
I chuckled, looking down at my feet. "It was worth a try."
Michael threw his cup of soda in the trash. "A game's going to start soon, so I'm going to find Ash. You should play. I heard it's going to be fun."
"That's what they say about every school dance," I muttered.
I looked at my phone. It was only nine o'clock. That was pretty early, but I was already surprised that all this time had passed. I had just stood here, at the snack bar, and it was already nine. Time flies by so quickly, and it made me a little bit anxious.
I didn't join in on the same. I sat on the bench at the far end of the auditorium. I plugged in my headphones, not wanting to listen to any of the shitty radio music the deejay's playing. I didn't realize it, but I was playing really sad songs. I sat on the bench, facing the opposite direction of the dance floor, and let the sad lyrics get to me.
It was about ten when I was bored out of my mind. I unlocked my phone, and I clicked on the Wattpad app. I decided that I should just read something to pass the time, even though I knew I'd get bored of it. I didn't have my laptop with me. Otherwise, I'd actually write something instead of reading out of boredom. Either way, Wattpad was a great place. It glitches sometimes, but other than that, it was okay.
Oh, Wattpad. What would I ever do without it?
Wattpad...
Wattpad.
Wattpad, Wattpad, Wattpad.
What's so significant about Wattpad?
I follow Calum on Wattpad.
Not only that, but it will be Calum's birthday tomorrow.
Calum's birthday is tomorrow, and I have a way to talk to him.
YES!
I went on my profile, went on my 'Following' tag, and I clicked on Calum's username. I felt my palms go sweaty as I held my phone. My thumbs felt sticky against the touch-screen, and for a while, I felt nervous. I haven't talked to Calum in so long.
Hey, Calum. It's Luke. Happy birthday! Anyway, I suddenly remembered that I followed you on here. So, I was thinking that maybe we could talk here. I know we always talked on Instagram, Kik, and occasionally Skype, but I feel as if this is easy for us to reach. Maybe we could talk again. Maybe we could make it work.
Then again, you probably don't remember me.
You know what? Forget it. Never mind.
I sighed, locking my phone as Disenchanted came on. I looked down at my lap, not wanting to look anywhere else. There was a lump in my throat. My heart was hurting. There were tears stinging my eyes, fighting to come out. I don't know why, but I felt sad. I wanted to cry. There was no reason, but I felt like it. I just felt so sad.
It was eleven o'clock when the lights turned on and everyone went home. Some people offered to clean up the place, but I walked away from the auditorium as quickly as I could. I looked down at the ground with my hands stuffed in my pockets. As I made my way back home, I felt the salty tears fall down my cheeks. I started to cry, but I didn't make a sound.
I didn't know what made me so sad.
Perhaps it was the fact that Calum was gone for good.