Author's note: There's gonna be blood mentioned in this chapter, so if it triggers you please DON'T read, or skip the first half, the second half is fine again. <3
Bastille - Laura Palmer
21 Pilots - Goner
Charlene Soraia - Wherever You Will Go
By the time Madison is back home, she already had some time to think about the encounter she had with Luke and the fact that Michael either moved or doesn't have a place to live at anymore. She can feel the anger pulsing through her veins because she cares so much for Michael and he just doesn't. He obviously doesn't care about his life or his future or himself or about her, for that matter. If he did care, he'd at least told her that he won't come back so she wouldn't have to worry about him the way she does. It makes her so mad how careless and irresponsible Michael is; whatever happened between him and Luke sounded a lot like serious trouble, and all Michael does is run away from it and it makes her so mad. Everything about Michael makes Madison so mad.
All she wants is to take a hot shower and maybe scream at the wall for an hour, but as soon as she climbs up the last set of stairs, she sees someone sitting next to her door. He wears the same clothes he wore the last time she saw him, his backpack is lying next to him and he's staring at his phone. When he finally notices her, he gets up on his feet.
"Where have you been?" he asks with an accusing tone that is the last straw for Madison.
She is so angry she decides to give Michael the silent treatment. Without looking at him she unlocks the door and walks inside. She shuts the door, takes off her shoes, walks to the kitchen. She gets a big glass from the cupboard, fills it with water and gulps it all down in one. Madison is so angry she drops the glass and looks at all the broken pieces now scattered all over the tiles. There's something peaceful in smashing things and seeing the broken pieces; there's something peaceful in sitting down in the middle of the mess and not bothering to clean it up. It's easier to do so, cleaning up requires effort and energy and currently Madison neither has the energy nor the urge to change anything about her current situation. She feels drained from that encounter with Luke, she feels drained from investing so many thoughts into Michael and his life. A few months ago she would have gotten rid of the scatters right away, and now she just doesn't care. She doesn't care about getting cuts on her hands from the sharp pieces, she doesn't care about Michael probably still sitting outside, she just doesn't care. Madison is so tired of caring about this messed up boy with his two faces, she's tired of dealing with the fragments he sometimes shares with her so she can turn them into a puzzle. She's tired of him being a total mystery, she's just so tired.
Suddenly her phone vibrates on the kitchen table, but she doesn't get up to answer it. The vibrating goes on for a while, stops, and a text comes in. Madison still isn't getting up, but the messages keep coming in so eventually she gets up from the floor, takes a big step over the broken glass and grabs her phone to turn it off. There's an unknown number flashing on the screen, so she scrolls through the messages.
8:34: Please open the door, what happened? I heard something break inside, are you okay?
8:35: Madison please. What did I do? Why are you not talking to me?
8:36: Please answer your phone or open the door. Punch me in the face, kick me in the dick, just please don't ignore me. Please.
8:37: Just tell me what the fuck happened. Where were you the whole day?
There's blood on her phone from holding it in her hand, and Madison deletes the messages before she can ask where Michael got her number from. She puts the phone back down, walks over to the sink and pours water on her hand. When the bleeding stops, she puts a plaster on the wound, gets a broom and cleans up the floor.
8:41: Listen, I know I fucked up. Big times. My whole life is fucked up but this thing between us wasn't fucked up, at least not until now. Or was it? Please talk to me.
Madison suppresses a sigh, pours herself a glass of wine and sits down at the kitchen table. The room is dark, so the screen of her phone is the only thing that gives any light. Michael's messages keep flooding in.
8:45: Please. I'll do anything, just please don't ignore me.
Madison hits delete, empties the glass and refills it. Michael won't go anywhere that's for sure, but then again he probably doesn't live anywhere so at least she knows that he'll have a safe night in the hallway. It's not like her neighbours seem to care anyway. This is New York, people only care if they're directly involved.
8:49: Would you prefer to read what happened than have me tell you personally? My spelling sucks, please don't make me type it all.
Is it really worth it? Is she really interested in why his life is going downhill the way it does? Does she really want to know why Luke is so furious? Madison lets the darkness of the kitchen swallow her when she turns off her phone and pushes it away from herself. This needs to stop. She needs to stop being upset over Michael's actions because he doesn't think. He just lives without thinking of any consequences or other people's feelings, he just doesn't think of anything.
Madison has been lying awake in her bed for almost three hours because her mind has been racing constantly. The wine was supposed to make her body feel heavy enough to sleep but her head didn't want to hear any of it. The sun will rise soon, so Madison swings her bare legs out of her bed, heads to the kitchen and turns on her phone. A few seconds later the messages pour in again; they're all from Michael. She doesn't read them but puts her phone back down on the table and crosses the hallway. As soon as she opens the door, Michael looks up at her. He obviously hasn't moved, but he looks terrible again. She slides down on the floor next to him.
"You wanna know where I've been? I sat in front of your place almost the whole day so Luke had to tell me that you don't even live there anymore. He's a really nice guy by the way, told me to fuck off and tell you to do the same. What did you do Michael? Why didn't you show up here for a month? A whole fucking month without letting me know where you are? I was fucking worried about you, and I couldn't contact you because I didn't have your stupid phone number. How did you even get my number? Fuck, Michael, will you please finally tell me what the fuck is going on?"
