Exchange | Malum

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"Your mother is dying sooner than we thought."

The last thing Michael expected to hear was that his mother had less than a month to live, and that they'd only be able to keep the life-machines on for a certain amount of time. He couldn't live with himself if he lost the only person he had left in his life. And he truthfully couldn't afford the surgery, which is why he liked to pretend that he could. He also liked to pretend that he had his own miniature kingdom, but that isn't how things worked in his lifetime. He barely had any money at all.

"I'd like to show you something," Calum smiled awkwardly as he held a flashlight in his hands and guided Michael into his backyard. It was ten at night, and they had nothing better to do, since their dog walking business wasn't as successful as they were hoping for. "I want to show you my favorite place."

In Calum's hand, was a golden key, rusted edges yet somehow polished in the middle, strung to a black chain that hung nicely around his neck. The brunette guided the two through his backyard, toes curling in the damp grass that felt soft and mushy. Michael's pale skin was glistening under the moonlight, and the Maori tried to put that thought to the side. "You're showing me a shed?"

"It's more than a shed," Calum chuckled, keying the lock and opening the miniature brown door that they had to bend down to get under. "It's an indoor garden I've been growing since I was nine." It was breathtaking. "I have this really weird obsession with plants, and they make me feel better after having a stressful day."

So this was the Calum he hid from everybody else. "I think it's important to have something to rely on when you're sad or stressed, as long as you don't let it define who you are as a person, you know?"

"Yeah," Michael mumbled, thinking about how he didn't have a place, and how he didn't know where he'd go when he loses her, "I think this is extraordinary."

"Isn't it?" Calum's eyes twinkled as he smiled at all of the plants surrounding his indoor garden. "I'm proud of it."

"You should be. There's more to you than just some hormonal teenager, and I don't understand why you hide that from the rest of the world," Michael reiterated, sitting down on one of the wooden stools that was painted on, with decals of butterflies and faux soil giving it a nice final touch.

"Not everyone is accepting of the things that calm us down," Calum replied, referring to how most didn't approve of cigarettes, or cutting, or splashing alcohol down their throats until they were stumbling on the cold, pebbled ground. "I think that, aside from my family, you're the first person that I've genuinely trusted to show this to."

"You trust me?"

"If I didn't trust you, Michael, I wouldn't be so desperate to have sex with you." Michael really couldn't argue with that, but mostly because he didn't want to. "And I know that the last thing on your mind is having sex with me, which is completely fine. I'm sad about it, but I'll get over it. You need help right now, and I'm here to give you as much as I can."

"Why are you being so nice to me?"

Calum ignored his question and just stood up, lending out a hand for Michael to take. "Come on, I know a place where we can get some spare change." And the pale boy smiled, for some reason, when his fingers dangled with tan ones, possibly not on purpose, but still making him feel some sort of way that he couldn't describe.

It was eleven at night when the clouds began to roll in, and droplets of rain became accessories to their clothes, but they didn't mind, because it was a feeling and a smell and a sensation that left them breathless, despite clinging onto one another for warmth as they made their way into a small building that Michael couldn't quite recognize. The pale boy rung his hair out, hating seeing it splatter against the ground that was dusty, and not mopped at all. "What is this place?"

"It's where people come when they're desperate," Calum retorted, all hope lost when a random female walked up to them with revealing clothes that made Michael quite uncomfortable. "Please don't tell me this is for prostitutes."

"No no," Calum assured, giving Michaels hand a random squeeze as they continued to walk further into the building, "I used to come here with my dad when I first became a teenager, and he taught me that if you want something, you have to work for it."

"Does this story have a moral?"

"It does, let me finish."

Michael nodded, following the ground that felt like tidal waves underneath him, allowing the loud voices of despair to pick up behind him, while everything else became quiet enough for him to hear his silent footsteps. "I call this place lecomind."

"That sounds weird," Michael frowned, suddenly wanting to just go back to the apartment he's been staying in to rest and forget about the scenarios today. But they were already too deep into the building to turn back, the curtains closing as they were forced to sit in some type of chair. "It is weird, and I know you're probably thinking that you're in danger, but all of this is basically a placebo effect, and everything you see is used as an advertisement for commercial purposes."

"So we'll be on TV?"

"Not exactly," Calum sighed, "Michael, stop asking questions and just listen to what they tell you to do. It's nothing major. It's kind of like gambling, without you putting in any money." Michael really didn't understand now, but he just went with it, because he was desperate.

And being desperate came with a lot of consequences.

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A/N;

Thoughts?

So where do you think they went?