Monday night. Screaming, yelling, swearing and even something being thrown at the wall.
My head was banging Tuesday morning and another day in St. Paul's was so painfully boring that by the time I got to lunch I felt like I could have a 12 hour nap.
Being at home is the highlight of my day.
A can of coke and my X-box are my pride and joy at this moment in time.
My focus comes off the game when I hear the sound of the front door opening and my dad walking in with a shopping bag.
"Hey dad" I say.
"Alright son?" he says smiling at me. "Had a good day?"
I roll my eyes and exhale deeply "Could have been better".
A small chuckle escapes his lips "Sorry mate I think I'm about to make it worse. I need to see you're grades".
I groan loudly and stretch of on the sofa and say in a high pitched voice "Daddy I'm too tired".
"C'mon Michael" Dad said with a more serious voice "Go get them".
The difference between mum and dad raising their voices at me is; mum would absolutely loose her shit with me whereas dad would keep his cool but still make it clear he was in control.
I get off the sofa and once again take the slow journey from the living room to my bedroom to retrieve the paper with my grades on it.
Like mum the day before, he reads in silence.
"Any joy?" I ask jokingly.
He looks up at me. "We'll a C in music is a star compared to the rest".
I sigh, partly in annoyance and frustration, before I make strong eye contact with my dad.
"You've heard this before Michael but I'm going to say it again- you are a smart young man-" dad says.
He's right, I have heard this all before.
"- I know this isn't the real thing but what if it was? You would feel disappointed" he continued before asking the one question that I didn't want to here.
"Something is up here. What is it?"
Rather than try to come up with something like I had with mum the previous afternoon I decide to be a little bit more honest.
"I've struggled to sleep the last few weeks" I say after sitting up in my chair "I've struggled to concentrate, to remember simple things. I'm just so . . . . distracted".
A long pause follows and I slowly look away from my dad. The silence is uncomfortable and the question my dad asks is unsettling to me.
"Is it your mum and I keeping you up at night?"
When the fuck did you realise that?
"Kind of" I say as calmly as one can in my situation.
Dad sighs and tells me to look at him. I do as he says.
"Listen Michael" dad says "I know things between me and your mum have not been great for a while-"
A while?!?! That's a fucking understatement.
"-and I'm sorry that it's been keeping you up. But son, you can't let arguments between me and your mum worry you".
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Fighting for Nothing (Michael Clifford FanFic)
FanfictionSome people fight for money . . . Some people fight for drugs . . . Hey, some even fight just because someone looked at them funny . . . Not Michael. No. Michael didn't fight for any of these things. In fact, his friends believed he fought for nothi...
