Written Words Left Unsaid (Michael Cliffofd Fanfic)

Chapter 4

I stood at the top of the stairs with my jaw slightly open, Michael at the bottom doing the same. My mum nudged me and I snapped out of it, she gave me a 'don't mess this up' look, and went all 'I'm-a-goo-host on Michael and his mum. I wasn't really paying attention, that was, until Michael was at the top of the stairs next to me and our mums were looking downstairs at the renovations we had done.

'Well don't you look nice,' he said to me.

'Could say the same about you,' I said.

'Well, next time came around a little sooner than expected didn't it?' He asked.

'Yeah, I was just thinking that. So, what are we going to do about it?' I asked him back.

'Well,' he said, moving closer and pulling me in like before. 'We could pick up from where we left off?' He suggested. I thought about this for a second, but I couldn't really think with arms wrapped around my body and those eyes staring at me.

'Maybe, but not right now. With my luck, we would get company just as it would be getting good. So lets go inside and I'll show you around,' I said. Michael let me go and we walked inside.

'Damn it your air-con is good!' He said as he walked inside. 'But classical?' I laughed.

'So, basically, it's me and my mum here, therefore classical. This is the kitchen-living-dining room area, as it is all joined. Back here,' I said leading him to a hallway between the kitchen and living area, 'is where I spend most of my time. This is my room,' I said showing him the messy room with posters instead of paint on the walls. 'The bathroom,' I said showing him the closed door. 'This, is my favourite room,' I said with a grin. 'It's my music room.'

I loved this room so much, I had a piano, guitar, keyboard, a drum kit and DJ decks. There was a table covered in sheet music and song lyrics, so yeah I wrote a little. I looked to Michael who had his mouth hanging open and the sight.

'This is incredible!' Was all he could say.

'Thanks,' I said back to him.

'You didn't say you loved music this much, and what do you call this?' He asked as he walked over to my paper covered table. For a few moments he sifted through the sheets and then held up a page covered in lyrics. 'You write more than you let on,' he said looking at me slyly.

'What? I didn't think we were going to get so serious about the writing thing!' I replied.

'Right, so do you have anything other than lyrics? Like a beat or something?'

'No, I don't write music, I just do lyrics. I play everything here though,' I proudly stated.

'You're joking right?'

'No, I learnt all of these.'

'Your mad, you know that?' Michael laughed as he walked over to my guitar. He picked it up and started strumming it.

'I know it's out of tune, I haven't played it for a while,' I said a little more upset about it than normal.

'Really? How come?' He asked, looking up to me. I sighed and sat down on the piano stool.

'Well, a few years ago, my mum and dad split. It wasn't pretty, because my dad wanted to move away to Perth and my mum wanted to stay here, therefore, custody battle. I hated it more than you could imagine. In the end, my mums lawyer found some dirt on dad from way back. It was just that he had been arrested for trying to stop a brawl and ending up in it, but they gave me to my mum. I was eleven then, and no one takes an eleven year old seriously when she says she wants to stay with her dad.