calum --
some days you just break down. you can't stop crying, and every little thing sets you off.
mom's at work when this happens to me. so, i am alone. i'm thankful for that, because i'm an ugly crier, but the loneliness is just icing on the 'happy mental breakdown day!' cake.
when i receive a text from luke, saying he's beyond bored and that we should hang out, i throw my phone against the wall. i am thankful that i can't hear it shatter and fall into pieces on the floor.
i hide my face in my pillow, pulling the huge black fleece throw over my head as another fit of sobs shakes me. i don't hear anything. i don't hear myself crying, or my bedroom door opening, or the soft whispers i can feel against my cheek.
i don't look up. my face is wet with tears and my eyes are most likely bloodshot. on top of that, my hair is total shit, and i'm not wearing a shirt.
the hands rubbing my back are not luke's, or my mom's. they're not michael's, as i wish they were, but they're familiar on my skin. i reluctantly bring my head up, smiling a bit when mali-koa's warm face greets me.
"hey, loser," i focus on her lips, and the thought brings another bout of crying onto me. i wish i could make eye-contact when i had conversations. i wave weakly before crawling back under the blanket, the black fibers shutting out light and leaving me in utter darkness. i'm afraid of the dark, but today it welcomes me like an old friend.
i feel mali's presence leave me, feel her light footsteps shaking the bed-frame, and then she's gone. or, i just can't feel her anymore. then the mattress dips where her body takes up space and i shudder with another sob. mali is confident in herself, she can take up space and breathe oxygen without feeling she's wasting what someone else could've used. i am not her.
her hand is on my back again, except this time it's on top of the cover instead of under it. then she taps my shoulder and i look up, biting hard on my lip when i see the shattered remains of my cellphone in the palm of her hand. "sorry," i mouth, barely readable as i would've mumbled it if i spoke.
"the whole screen is like," she pauses, racking her brain for words, "destroyed. what the heck, man?"
i turn my body so i'm facing her and take the phone from her hand. then, without warning, i throw it again and lay my head in her lap. her fingers run through my hair and for a minute i'm content. then her phone buzzes in her pocket and she struggles to pull it from her tight jeans. i sit up, looking away when she answers.
mali grabs my shoulder and forces me to look at her. i bring my eyes up and watch her lips as she speaks, "i have to leave, alright?" i nod. i don't want her to leave. "cool, see ya little bro."
she hugs me for a long moment, her hair falling on my chest, before pulling away and leaving my room without another word.
i wait until the front door is slammed shut before i cry again.
an hour after my sister has left, i go down to the kitchen and rummage through the cabinets for a while. nothing seems satisfactory, even the jar of nutella seems mediocre and pitiful.
i don't eat.
my stomach growls when i catch a glimpse of the landline ringing and see luke's name on the caller id. i don't remember anyone saving his number, but then again nobody tells me anything.
i let it ring, since i can't answer. i can't help but wonder why he'd want to call my mom, since usually when i don't answer my texts he just comes over. i shrug it off, heading into the living room. there's a cotton blanket on the sofa that i wrap myself in. i'm too weak to reach for the remote and turn on the tv, not that there's much of a point to that.
i feel the rusted out grinding over the front door against the wall, and turn my head. there he is.
nobody accompanies him, i notice, as the door shuts behind him and the tall blonde stands in the front hallway. he waves, and in his other hand i notice two brown paper bags.
he joins me on the couch. i smile at him, but he's frowning at me. "phone?" i catch.
i tell him with my hands that it's broken, but i don't tell him it was me that broke it.
he shrugs and pulls out two takeaway boxes, one with sloppy black marker written across the top. i can't read it, but i'm guessing it's the order in the container. luke gives me the box without writing on it and i open it. chicken tenders and my favorite french fries stare me in the face.
i tap him and give him a thanks before digging in.
we don't talk much. luke doesn't force conversation, which is great for me. we eat and play video games for a while, and then luke looks back at the door with his eyebrows raised in confusion. he holds up one finger as to say 'one sec,' and gets up, leaving me to pause the great game of pro-wrestling we were having. it was great because i was winning.
i watch luke open the door, and tears threaten to spill when i see a flash of red hair and black boots. michael?
i can see his eyes flicker from luke to me and back, his lingering gaze sending shivers down my arms and raising the hair on my legs. why is he here?
luke lets him in, making my heart speed up and my breathing hitch. the last person i want to see is michael. i already hardly wanted to see luke, and now this asshole is here.
"hey," he says. i push away the longing feeling that wants to settle in my stomach like butterflies and vomit. "can we talk?"
i give luke a 'help me' stare, but he looks everywhere but at me, so i'm left to sigh and nod and lead michael to my backyard.
i raise an eyebrow expectantly. he bites his lip. in this moment i wish i could speak, so i could say, "well?" in a very annoyed tone.
"listen, i'm sorry about thursday." i stare, confused. why is he apologizing? sure, he kind of broke my heart twenty times, but he couldn't have known that.
"luke told me about your uh... feelings," he continues, and my eyes widen until i'm sure i look like a creepy doll. "you're great and all, calum, you really are... but i'm straight, and i have a girlfriend. khloe, remember?"
i frown at the mention of psycho-bitch's name. what he sees in her, i'll never know. i sigh. this one-sided conversation thing doesn't work, it never works.
i debate pulling out my phone and typing a note, but i can't. it's broken on the floor in my bedroom. instead, i nod, hold back tears, and walk back into the house. i've never handled rejection well.
i glare at luke for a second before pointing at the door. by now tears are starting to leak and i didn't want anyone to see me cry.
"what? are you telling me to fucking leave?" he says. i thank my ears for not working so i don't hear his angry tone.
i nod and point again. "out," i mouth.
"fine. whatever, calum." he starts walking, but then he spins around and comes right up to me, his face inches from mine. i feel like crying, like leaning against the wall and sobbing until there's no more tears, but i hold my ground. "i am so sorry you're a fucking faggot, calum. you're a fag, and you're never gonna get a boyfriend, because you're deaf." he's talking so fast i can hardly keep up. i can tell he's yelling, which makes it worse.
then he laughs. "you can't even hear me," he says, and leaves my house without another word.
i forget michael is still in the backyard when i fall to my knees, my hands in my face as i shake with sobs.
i flinch when his hand falls on my shoulder. through the blur of tears i see red hair and bright eyes.
i can't read his lips, and even after i wipe my eyes and try to focus, my vision is ultimately too hazy with tears.
after a while, michael sits on the couch, watching me. there's nothing he can do and in this moment we both feel helpless. i hate it.
i stop crying. i stand up, grab the whiteboard and dry erase marker from the kitchen counter, and sit next to michael. his eyes watch the board as I write.
'you should go'
he takes it from me, and writes a reply.
'no, im here for u'
we talk like this for a while. it cheers me up.
then he writes, 'if i were gay, you'd be my first choice. ;)'
i laugh.
'thanks. too bad you're not. :('
'aw, callie, its okay you'll find someone'
i stick my tongue out at the nickname. i like it, though.
'callie??'
'it's cute, and you're cute. like, not manly.'
'hey!'
'it's okay. i don't like manly guys'
'you don't even like guys'
';)'
after that, he writes that he has to leave and gives me the longest, warmest hug of my life.
today has been a terrible day, but at least michael made it a percent less terrible than it would've been.
a/n: shoutout to michael for not being as big of a dick as luke