Catcall [MIKA Fanfiction]

Chapter 1: Moose

"DON'T YOU EVEN TRY TO TALK TO ME I AM DONE LISTENING!"

Hot tears burned at the corner of my eyes and threatened to spill over. I ran down the hallway towards my bedroom.

"Baby, listen to me I can explain."

I laughed in spite of myself. Explain? He could explain himself after what I had just witnessed? What a joke. I reached for my door but a strong hand grabbed my wrist.

"LET ME GO"

"You're overreacting babe!" John, my now ex boyfriend spun me around to face him. I looked up with disgust.

"Overreacting? Excuse me for getting a little worked up over the fact that you HAD SEX WITH ANOTHER GIRL!" I screamed. Part of me prayed that the neighbors wouldn't call the cops because of all the noise.

"Love she was just a friend," John tried to pin me back against the wall and kiss me but I could smell the alcohol on his breath. I pushed him off. His excuses were amusing. This entire conversation was laughable. Silly me for moving to London and falling in love with a prick like him. I slipped out of his grip and continued to the bedroom. He tried to follow but I quickly shut the door and locked it.

"Hey, don't be like that Ri Ri" He slurred. The sound of him using my pet name made me sick.

"That's Risha to you, son of a bitch!"

I needed to get out of here. I scanned the room that we once shared. My belongings were mixed with his. I suppressed an urge to smash everything in sight. I groaned a bit, remembering how thrilled I was when I moved in with John. I actually thought we'd be 'together forever' and he'd be the one for me. Too bad; John's a cheating asshole. I moved over to our wardrobe and yanked it open. I tried to mentally calculate how many of my things I could carry on my own. We didn't have any bags laying around the bedroom. If I wanted to get one, that would mean opening the door and having to face my drunk ex again.

 I dug around the closet until I unearthed a slightly bent cardboard box. The bottom looked like it might collapse with no warning, but it was the best I could find. I began ripping my clothes off the hangers without a care in the world, and shoving them into the box. I just needed to leave. I moved over to my night table to grab my purse and spotted a framed photo of John and I. His arms were wrapped around my waist and we were grinning at each other like the happiest people alive. Without a second thought I grabbed it and smashed it against night table. That couple was no more.

After stuffing all that I could in the weak little box, I picked it up and took a deep breath. All I had to do was get past John and make it to the front door. I slowly turned the golden door knob and waited to be greeted by his drunken self. 

Instead, John lay passed out on the carpet in front of me. Lucky me, this was my chance to get out. I carefully and quietly stepped around his sleeping figure, even though part of me wanted to step on his face and kick the living shit out of him. His snoring was obnoxious and I was thankful I didn't have to deal with that unpleasant sound at night anymore. Making sure to support the bottom of the box, I ran down the stairs and out the front door. 

The first thing I noticed was the cold, dark night. I had totally lost track of time. I checked my watch for the time. The underground trains don't run all night. I had 15 minutes to catch the last one. Thankfully John lived fairly close to the tube. I hurried out into the night. Images of what I had witnessed made their way into my head but I pushed them away. I did not want to waste another thought on that bastard.

MIKA's POV

Rejected. Again. I angrily stomped out of the posh little office of the record company, carrying my box of demos I'd spent countless hours writing and recording. My lame job as a waiter paid for most of this, and despite all the effort and time I had put in, several record labels refused to sign me. They all had big egos and thought I was their little puppet that they could control. They compared me to every artist imaginable with curly hair and a high voice. It's unbelievable how many times I've been told to "be more like Freddie Mercury."