Fugitive (ON HOLD)

X

Michael pulls away from the kiss first and he still has that look on his face. A look of complete hate and something else that looks like passion deep within his eyes.

"I wish I could kill you," Michael says with a shake of his head.

"Gee, thanks," I blush furiously and turn away from him. Why is he so confusing? I seriously believe he's bipolar or something of the sort. Why else would he kiss me and then wish to kill me the next moment?

As Calum drives, Michael keeps his eyes on the window, looking up at the sky. There's a sliver of daylight left and the moon is already out. I look out the window as well and I notice that the streets are almost empty where we are. Of course, we are in a very shady town. Where else would lowlife people like Calum reside?

"Let me ask you something," Michael says quietly, although it rings clearly throughout the car since it's so silent. I turn to look at the boy but his eyes are still out looking through the window. "What if you don't become an astrologist?"

I frown, wondering what urged him to ask this question, before answering. "I'll go into the medical field instead. Become a pediatrician or something," I answer. Michael nods as if in thought.

"What if you can't be that?" he questions, drumming his fingers against his thigh.

"A geneticist," I say slowly, trying to figure out his angle. Why ask these questions?

Michael turns to me, his eyes dark. "You've got everything figured out don't you? Your entire life is planned. You have goals for yourself, a future, a life," he lists, shaking his head at me. "I could've had all of that. My parents, especially my father, had a successful life built for me. I didn't want it though so I tore it down. I wanted to do other things with my life."

I frown, waiting for Michael to continue. He doesn't though, he just looks at me with a look of despair deep within his eyes, almost hidden. I realized then just how torn Michael really is. He isn't sure where he went wrong but all he knows is that he's messed up his life.

I'm about to ask what Michael wanted to do with his life before he got arrested but Calum pulls abruptly to a stop in front of a run down looking hotel. I open my mouth to speak again but Michael's already out of the car. I follow suit, my eyes focused on Calum. He fixes the SnapBack on his head and he looks back at me for a moment before turning to Michael.

"Alright," Calum starts, his hands in his pockets. "This is where I stay. You don't have to worry about people ratting you out or finding out who you are. They don't pay attention to shit here. Just follow me, keep your head down." Calum walks up to the entrance of the building, his head tilted down slightly as he opens the door and walks inside. Next is Michael and I follow behind.

I watch Michael's narrow yet strong back as I walk behind him, keeping my face hidden with my hair. Calum leads us up a flight of stairs and then down a hallway with a few doors on each side. We come to a certain door labeled 203 and Calum takes out a key from his pocket, most likely to open the door.

Once it's open and we're inside, I take a look around, noticing the walls covered with all kinds of band posters. Blink-182, The Kooks, Bastille, Good Charlotte, The Beatles, Arctic Monkeys, Maroon 5, Bowling For Soup, practically any kind of band you could think of. The main room wasn't very big, only consisting of a couch that could seat two people comfortably, a small television in front of it, and a side table with a lamp. Calum walks over to the couch and plops down on it. He looks back at Michael and I and then points to a door on the left.

"Over there is the kitchen. Not much in there except a few sodas and an apple," Calum says nonchalantly as he reaches for a remote and flicks on the small box. "Room to the right leads to the bedroom and the door over in the corner leads to the bathroom. Have at it."