Mirrors | Malum

28

Michael

I never understood how it'd feel to be stepped on, or to count the cracks inside of the pavement or the veins that trail down your arms. I never understood how it felt to hate every aspect of your body and personality until Calum told me. Until he confessed that he hated how crooked his teeth were, which according to him, made him look like a squirrel but he couldn't be more wrong.

"Your smile is my favorite thing about you," I told him quietly as he laid his head on my chest, but the possibility of him believing me was more than low.

"Why?" Calum asked me, and of course, I reached for his hand and intertwined my fingers with his before giving him a slight squeeze to let him know that he isn't just a drawing left unshaded or untraced. He isn't just a shadow that arches in the corner at three in the morning. He isn't just a text message left unanswered or a grey sky that ruins everyone's day. No, he's beautiful. He's so fucking beautiful.

"Because I hardly ever see your smile, Calum. And when I do, I feel all bubbly inside. It's a smile that can literally light up my world in a second."

And he smiled, and it felt so unbelievably wonderful to have him smiling under my touch over my words. So so wonderful.

I've gotten to the point in my life where I want nothing more than to wrap my arms around Calum's petite frame. I love holding him and I love the feeling of him making himself comfortable as he wiggles his body around and rests his hand either on my knee or my chest. And I love tracing my fingers against the palm of his hand and counting the lines and patterns that cross his skin. I love looking into his brown eyes and feeling as though I'm melting because his beautiful eyes taste like mornings where I feel the need to fuel up on sugar and end up being satisfied with a milk chocolate bar. He's that kind of satisfaction but better.

I want to hold his hand in public and announce to the world that Calum Thomas Hood, the boy who wears overly large sweaters is mine and healed through my bandages and my love. I want to have the ability to kiss him wherever I want, even if we are trapped inside of an elevator that stopped moving because the only friction and vibrations it could feel were our beating hearts that could fall out of our chests at any moment.

I want to lay in bed at night and kiss his forehead as he falls asleep under my bed sheets and I want to whisper how much I love him because I love him so much but he doesn't understand because he's so afraid of taking chances. He's so afraid of clinging onto something that might leave him but he doesn't understand that I'd never leave him. Not even if we got into a fight or if he called me his boyfriend and ended up cheating.

I'm that in love with him.

And I hate that even through the safest sounds and quietest places, even during our late conversations in the parking lot, he can't say those five words because they're too valuable and it isn't possible for him to love anybody. Right?

I tried not to think about it, but I really wanted to be close to him. More than anything.

-

"Do you remember when you drew me?" I asked Calum as we laid on his bed for the very first time. He decided it'd be a great time to invite me over to his house when his parents weren't home but according to him, I'm staying over for dinner which is nerve wracking because I didn't plan on doing so.

"I do."

"Will you ever draw me again?"

He smiled as he reached for his sketchbook that held hundreds of pictures crafted by him and I didn't understand how somebody so talented could think they were terrible at everything, including living.

"I already did."

He wasn't kidding. There were at least five pictures of me, each with a different hair color. I was surprised over how many details about my face that he perfected. Like that small pimple I have on the side of my cheek, or the tiny amount of flakes I have on my lips when I forget to moisturize them. I loved how bright he made my eyes look and how every strand of my hair was noticeable in the pictures.

But I changed the way I looked again, which meant another drawing was probably going to come again soon.

"I can draw you right now, if you want."

"Oh Calum, you don't have to. It'd take hours and I don't want to put you under all of that pressure."

"No no, it's fine. I insist," Calum commented and I knew I couldn't convince him otherwise.

-

"Mom, Dad, Mali, I'd like you to meet Michael."

His mom was the first to comment and of course she commented on how chubby my cheeks were. She said that I reminded her of Calum when he was little and of course I stepped away when she attempted to squeeze my cheeks.

Calum's dad was a bit more easygoing even though he seemed slightly uptight.

"I remember you from the restaurant. You work at Olive Garden."

I awkwardly nodded, and glanced over towards where Mali was sitting and it was quite obvious that she recognized me because she had a grin plastered on her face and I really wanted to jump in front of a bus because they probably didn't know how in love with Calum I am and I couldn't stare at him the way I always do because they'd notice.

Everyone would notice and it would ruin everything.

I just want to be his. And it's really starting to hurt.

-

A/N: short chapter because filler. Idk my neck hurts and I'm tired as hell. Also guys I just got my very first iPhone on Thursday and I love it so much. 💕

Anyways, don't forget to leave a comment and a vote because I appreciate them more than you think. Also this chapter isn't as poetic because I'm kind of falling asleep even if it's not even 2pm yet or whatever lmao.

Thanks for reading! 😇