Deception (Michael Clifford)

Twenty Three

I stand at the very edge of the kitchen, not daring to move a muscle or even breathe too loud in case I startle him. Across the other side of the room, lying awkwardly on the couch and breathing loudly, is the shadowy figure of Michael. The black leather jacket that hangs off his shoulders camouflages him into the dark room, as do the black skinny's that hug his legs. He scrunches his fists against the fabric.
I feel so helpless, like I should be doing something to help him, but at the same time, I'm scared to. I train my eyes on him in the darkness, he looks like he's in so much pain, but I can't tell if it's real or if he's still asleep.
Ashton's been gone for about 10 minutes, or it could only be 2, I'm not sure. And Michael's condition has worsened. I can see his shoulders shaking from where I stand, and by the sound of it, he's having a hard time getting air.
I watch on helplessly, my worry growing.

A few more minutes pass in silence, except for the distant noise of sirens and rumbling engines.
I assume Ashton has gone to get a doctor. I wouldn't be surprised if they had their own travelling with them.
But why was he searching through the cupboards?
I shake the thoughts away and return my attention to Michael.
Maybe I should get a glass of water for when he wakes up.
I take a hesitant step toward the sink, just as Michael lets out a low mumble. I freeze, heart pounding. I study him carefully, wondering if he's awake. But then he lets out a cry, wrenching his head to the side.
I gulp and remain with my legs frozen to the ground.
He doesn't move.
I curse at myself, seriously, what damage can he do? He can barely stand on his own-
Michael bolts upright and leaps off the couch.
I almost fall backwards in fright.
He stands, legs swaying slightly, arms stiff by his sides. My instinct is telling me to run, but I can't peel my eyes away.

He looks down at himself, breathing hard, and takes a moment to gather his senses. Tension fills the silence.
He looks at himself as if for the first time.
Then slowly in the dim light, he brings his hands up, turning them over and examining them like foreign objects.
Blood roars in my ears, I grab shakily for my phone, suddenly remembering what Ashton said about calling him.
"What have I done..."
I blink, hand hovering over my pocket as Michael speaks.
He lets his arms fall, and sinks back onto the couch, burying his face in his hands.
"What have I done..."
My shock slowly turns into curiosity.
He hunches over, shadows settling on him like a cloak.
The immediate thoughts of calling for help dissipate, and I feel a small shift in the room.

I decide not to call Ashton.
It would only delay him from getting Michael what he needs, plus, I don't feel like I'm in any danger.
I look at the dark figure of slouched over on the seat.
For now, he's sitting calmly.
So I slip my phone back into my pocket, and return to my duty of keeping watch.

None of this is making any sense.
I shift my weight uncomfortably.
He's been gone for over a day, and clearly hasn't contacted anyone as to where he's been. I remember Ashton asking me if I'd spoken to him, when he knocked on my hotel room door. I don't know why he'd assume that I've had any contact.
I shake my head as if shooing a fly.
But what's confusing me is that this has happened before, and yet no one seemed to notice? Except for his own band. But even then, they all just went out to a club. It's not like they spent every waking hour trying to figure out what's happened to him.
I watch Michael as he sits on the couch, breathing loud in the stillness of the room.
Why was no one looking for him?
Did they know he was missing?
Maybe it's happened so often that it's become like that boy cried wolf, they just don't care anymore.
I let out a long sigh.

Michael remains sitting on the edge of the couch for the next 5 minutes or so, his breathing loud in the stillness of the room.
I begin to feel uncomfortable standing in the darkness like this, just watching. It's not the lack of light that bothers me, which is a change, but I feel like I'm intruding.
I doubt if he knows that I'm here, I doubt he even knows where he is, but I just feel weird watching like this.
A few more minutes pass, before I decide I should make my presence known.