Michael decided to stay away from that Kiwi's house for a while. He knew if he went there any more, it would turn into a pattern, and he didn't need a pattern. He scared people because they didn't know when he was coming.
However, they came over to the house every day, and Michael had to hide in the treehouse and just listen out for what they were saying.
He decided to follow that annoying blond guy that always flirted with him, and was going to scare the shit out of him. So him and his friends knew it was personal, but he wasn't going to be that personal. But this time, he was going to take it a little further than he needed to. He cut himself a tiny bit and put the blood all over his hands before knocking on the window. The smell was making him sick.
The boy opened his window, and mumbled a sleepy, "Hello?"
MikeyMikey got up, putting his hands on his face and kissing him just beside the mouth. He giggled, "Wow, Calum was so much better to kiss than you."
The poor boy started to hyperventilate as he backed into his room, feeling the blood all over his cheeks. "M-M-MikeyMikey!" Luke started screaming.
"That's right." The somewhat monster nodded, the hoodie hiding his face. "Now, make sure to tell your friends to stop coming by the house. It's pissing me off. And you know what happens when I get pissed?"
"Luke!" there were people banging on Luke's door, begging to come in. "Luke, why is the door locked?"
MikeyMikey could hear Luke a block away, screaming his head off, and almost wanted to go back, but he couldn't because his whole family would be there trying to calm him down. He went to the house, screaming just in case anyone was in there. He washed his hands and slept under the staircase again.
The guys didn't come back for the next few days and Michael felt so bad that he went to the shop so he could see if he was okay. He didn't mean to take it that far. He swore sometimes he wasn't even in control.
Luke wasn't there, so Mikey wrote him a short note. Well, he didn't write it. He cut letters out of magazines. He knew that everybody was eager to find out who he was, and his handwriting was not the way he wanted to be found out. I'm sorry. I didn't know I'd take it this far. His window was locked shut, so he just stuck to the other side and left.
He didn't even know what he was doing anymore. He was a slave to his routine, and he couldn't help it. Yes, he liked their reactions. Yes, he liked the way it felt. But, he felt like it wasn't him who did it. It wasn't him who was in his body. It wasn't him who cut himself and put blood all over Luke's face. It was someone else. Something else.
The fact that he thought that scared the fuck out of him.
He put himself under house arrest for the next few days, not feeling like he was worth the adrenalin. Not feeling like he was worth the feeling of thrill. His thrill took it too far and he didn't like it.
People came in the house again, and all he did was throw stuff at them when they got near. It was enough for them to go. At night, after the third day, he decided to go to Luke's with a few things to help him. He knocked on the window, and the moonlight gave him a clear picture of the blond trying to ignore it. He had a lot of make-up on, so it was basically impossible that Luke would recognise him as the guy from the shop.
"Luke, I'm not going to scare you. It's just Mikey without the other Mikey." He continued to knock. Eventually, Luke shakily got up, unlocking the window. Mikey pulled the window up. He made sure that his voice was sore from screaming before he spoke. "I didn't mean what I did. I just didn't want you coming by the house. It's mine. A-And that wasn't me. I'm sorry."
"A psycho's never said sorry to me before," Luke mumbled, his voice as shaky as his body as he talked.
"To make up for it; I know how to help you get into that guy's head that you flirt with at your work. You know, the customer?"
"How do you - How do you . . ."
Mikey smiled, putting his scarred hands out in defence that looked like they been burnt the fuck out of. But Michael was just a master with make-up. Don't ask why. "Chill, I know everything. That's probably the least creepy thing I know."
"Um, how do you get into his head?"
"We're . . . friends." He kept his voice at a whisper, wanting it to sound as unlike his voice as possible. "I know what makes him tick. Talk dirty to him, but be nice. Don't make it obvious."
Why was he giving relationship advice to a boy he didn't like about himself? You may ask. Well, fair question. He needed to get Luke to like him a little. Like Mikey and disregard MikeyMikey. In order to that, he needed to get Michael - normal, yet shady guy - to be Luke's friend.
He wanted to see Calum again.
That was all.
He just wanted to see Calum without a window in front of him or a hoodie over his head.
And when he was done talking to him, and he turned around, I wish Luke took notice in the fact that there was Mikey printed on one leg. Maybe then he'd understand.
