Michael + Ch. 10 - Bake Sale + Feelings

As my breath grew colder, my heart felt warmer. I know it's a weird thing to say, but it feels as if there's something blossoming inside of me, as if it's more than just my mind hinting to me that I feel less suffocated for a reason. There has to be one, because everything that happened so far has had a reason, if I wasn't aware of it. Maybe I just wasn't thinking straight, because my thoughts were clouted with CalumCalumCalum and his cute little laugh, or maybe I genuinely could sense that something was up, and it wasn't a good thing, either.

It was around a month into senior year when we had a new student join my music class. I enjoyed this subject more than I enjoyed the thought of death, simply because it made me feel like I could live without being judged, without knowing that there was some sort of harm coming my way. I played the guitar, which I have to admit, has been awfully difficult for me lately, but one of the female students always helps me out of my wheelchair and into a regular one so I can hold the instrument properly. Her name is Ashley. We aren't friends, and probably never will be, but she seems like she cares a lot for people that don't care about her. Kind of like me. Except she isn't boring.

The 'new' student disrupted the entire class from their chatter, leaving the teacher to grin because she never expected the star player on the football team to be interested in joining her band class. Calum Fucking Hood. This now meant that I had more than one class with him, which was gym, and being able to spend more time with him, where Luke wasn't around, meant everything to me, even if I didn't show it. I didn't want to show it, because showing emotions wasn't something I, Michael Clifford, did. Not when I'm numb to everything around me.

"There's an empty seat next to Michael, go ahead and sit there." Of course. I politely asked Ashley to help me move the chair over a bit so he has more leg room, to which she winked and pushed my chair closer to his, causing me to bump into Calum once he sat down. "Sorry, Calum. That wasn't supposed to happen."

"It's fine," Calum smiled warmly, his brown eyes gazing into mine as he leaned into the chair, but he broke eye contact soon after five seconds passed, and began searching around the room for something, anything, an instrument. "Do you guys, um, have any guitars left?"

"Actually, according to Mrs. Preciado, we have too many guitar players. There's one more space for a bass player, though."

"Bass?" Calum's face churned at the sound, his stomach as well, just thinking about picking up an instrument that he wasn't used to. But he recently switched into this class because he didn't like having an off period since it made him feel dirty, so he came here. "I don't play the bass."

"It's never too late to learn," Ashley chimed in with a laugh just before returning to her headphones that were plugged into the miniature piano on her lap. She was actually incredibly good at playing, but I could never admit that to her, myself, or anybody else. I didn't like admitting my true feelings. But they really showed around Calum, and he knows I'm falling for him, and it hurts that he hasn't acted upon those feelings yet, and it's probably because of Luke.

"I guess she's right," Calum pouted, standing up to grab the bass from the back of the room, just before returning to his seat and tuning it to get the right sound. "You play guitar?"

I felt my cheeks heating up. "Yeah, but it's kind of hard to play in a wheelchair, you know? Because there's the arms, and it elevates itself when I'm sitting in it, so I have to ask Ashley to help me out of it and put me into a normal chair like this so I can feel comfortable with playing the strings," I mumbled under my breath, not once making eye contact with him, but I could see that he was staring at me out of the corner of his eye. I didn't miss the way his fingers molded into the bass as he let out a sigh of relief. I didn't miss the way his lips curved into a smile as he began thinking of something, anything, and I could only hope it was about me, but I knew it was about Luke. I didn't miss the way he began strumming as if he was used to this kind of thing. But I did miss the way he started singing silently to himself a song about heartbreak. Why he was sad was something I could never fully put together on my own.

It took me a while to process what was happening around me, everyone was singing or playing music, tending themselves into their own little world, specifically Calum. It was like he was more passionate about music than he was with football, and that surprised me since he was really good. But he broke away from the world once he noticed me staring at him. "Michael, can I ask you something?"

"Go for it," I said shakily, watching my breath turn blue, cold, as I looked down at my brown guitar that showed his reflection nicely. He was so beautiful. "I won't judge you for whatever it is you're about to ask, I swear."

"Have you ever loved somebody so much to the point where it hurts?" Calum quirked, his hands nearly dropping the bass as he stared into my green eyes. I didn't miss the way his lips parted open, or the way his eyes casted down from mine to somewhere that I couldn't quite recognize, or the way he laughed bitterly at his question. But I did miss the way he shook his head and mumbled fuck under his breath. "That was such a stupid question, I'm sorry." He had to have known about my feelings, right?

"You're talking about Luke, aren't you?"

"Y-You could say that," Calum sighed, picking up the bass and beginning to strum the strings on the beautiful black instrument that for some reason, resembled his personality well.

"Are you in love with somebody that isn't Luke?"

"I've said too much," he reiterated, breath staggering as he began singing over his shakiness, his fear, his emotions that I couldn't read, and he didn't say anything after that, only tuned me out.

And it hurt. It hurt a lot.

-

Today was the bake sale, the moment I've been dreading for the past two weeks. I couldn't get what coach said out of my head, how he acted as if I was useless and said I could only be put to use by holding a fan of some sort to keep the football players and cheerleaders cool. I wanted to help out, in the same way that I wanted to be somebody, but I wasn't. I was just Michael Clifford, and there's nothing great about being me, nothing.

"Glad to see you showed up," Luke grinned as I wheeled myself over to the table stand with an eye roll. He was a pig. "I couldn't stay away from you," I said with sarcasm, but he didn't quite catch on to it. I really hated Luke, possibly more than he hated me. Deep down, he was probably a nice guy, somewhere, anywhere, but I hate the way he treats me, as if I'm not meant to exist. It makes me want to die more than I already do.

"Coach gave me this fan for you to hold," Luke laughed, just before highfiving Alex who said nice one. You'd think the students at Pleine High School would be nicer during their last year, but that isn't really the case. It never was. Everyone is nice to each other, unless it involves me. Once I'm in the picture, nothing works out as well as it should.

I could see Calum staring at me from the corner of his eye, mouthing the words I'm sorry over and over, but it meant nothing to me. My feelings for him are nothing more than a phase, and I'm positive about it. He's chosen to be with Luke, somebody who pushes people to the edge and then wonders what happened afterwards, as if he didn't cause it. I just ignored the brunette, in the same way that I ignored the cheerleaders who continued to mock me the entire time. And I could have stood up for myself or done something, but I just took it, and let myself crawl further into the hole I wanted to be buried in.

The bake sale didn't last as long as everyone had hoped, but I was rather pleased that it only took an hour for every delicious treat to be sold out. I didn't even get any, but it's because they thought I was fat and needed to diet, and I guess they were right. I am a little pudgy in the stomach area.

"Are you going to homecoming?" Calum asked out of the blue, startling me as he placed his hands on the bars of my wheelchair, "I was thinking about joining the committee and setting it up, but I don't know."

"No," I laughed hysterically, feeling my blood run cold as he spun me around, "I'm not going to homecoming. That's the last place I want to be."

"But why?"

I hated seeing him frown, in the same way I hated seeing somebody else making him smile. It was breaking my heart, piece by piece. "Dances aren't my thing, if you can't tell by now. I'm pretty damaged."

"You don't have to move your feet to be able to dance, you know," Calum stated, wheeling me somewhere without my consent, but I just let it happen, in the same way I let everything else occur. It just did. "And besides, you could apply to be the DJ or whatever. You'd be the life of the party for that."

"Everyone is into songs about sex. I'm the opposite," I laughed again, wondering where he was taking me as we strolled across the sidewalk that led us further and further away from the school building. Not that I was complaining.

"It's okay to be different."

"Calum?" I asked, causing him to stop in his tracks and put my wheelchair on break. "Why do you talk to me?"

The brunettes cheeks hinted a bit of a pink shade, but it was nothing that I hadn't noticed about him before, it was just natural for his skin to turn that color, in the same way it was natural for me. "I think you're a nice person and deserve to have somebody in your life who cares about you."

I chuckled again, bitterly this time, in disgust, maybe even in a dramatic tone.

"You don't actually care about me, do you?"

"Do you not want me to?" Calum asked, making a quick U-Turn with his body and circulating himself towards me so we could look at each other. "Because as much as I wish I didn't, I can't magically stop caring about you."

"Why do you?" I asked again, feeling my throat burn from questions I couldn't get out of my head, from things I was desperate to hear, even if it was killing me slowly. I didn't miss the way he turned his head to look at me with his jaw slightly dropped, or the way his hair began to fall onto his forehead or the way he started smiling sadly at me. But I did miss the way his eyes stayed on mine without breaking contact.

"Sometimes, you just care for the things that kill you the most." I didn't understand what he meant, and I didn't understand why tears started falling down his cheeks as soon as he said it, or why his breathing suddenly started becoming uneven, but I didn't question him on it. I just hugged him until my shirt become damp with tears and concealer stains, because I guess he covered up his acne, since everyone is insecure about something, and his just so happens to be his face.

"I-I'm not happy, Mikey."

I wanted to help him, I did, but I didn't know how to, because you can only do so much when you're trapped inside of a wheelchair with a broken foot and a fractured spine. And for me, doing as much as possible isn't enough. It never was. "I know you're not, but you'll be okay, one day, I promise."

Calum got up from his knees, wiping his tears embarrassingly, and giving me a sad smile that I returned, but it wasn't out of pity. I really do care about Calum. "Sorry about your shirt, I'll buy you a new one, but for now, I need to go."

"Where?" I asked, my voice beginning to crack because I didn't want him to leave, I wanted him to stay. But nobody ever stays with boring old Michael Clifford. I'm not worthy of that kind of attention. But then again, was I ever?

He didn't give me an answer, only walking away and leaving me, and in a way, I knew exactly where he was going; to smoke, because he tried to run away from his problems, just like me. But that's something he'd never understand.

Because he didn't try to.

-

A/N;

2358 words.

Thoughts?

Highkey feel like you guys don't like this story anymore. :(

Writing this chapter fucked me up, damn.

What do you think Calum is hiding from Michael? Why do you think he isn't happy?

IM SEEING HALSEY TOMORROW NIGHT SHITSHITHITSHIT

Fun fact; otters hold hands while they're sleeping to prevent themselves from floating away from each other

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