fanboy ↦ michael clifford {au}

twenty-two: milk

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO:

| michael’s pov |

The vibe I got from the room was awkward. I expected the silence; it wasn’t like we were ever going to fill it. I lost hope in that future.

“How’s life?” Ashton, who wasn’t supposed to be here, beaming at the two of us. I know what he was trying to do. 

He was trying to make her date me, when she clearly loves him.

Belle decided to answer him. Well, why wouldn’t she? 

“Fine,” she said, giving a small smile. That smile didn’t reach her eyes. It was noticeable that she was lying, and I’d ask her what’s wrong, if it weren’t for Ashton.

He laughed, probably not even getting the hint that she wasn’t fine– that her life wasn’t that good. “That’s great! How’s life, Michael?” 

“Shit,” I mumbled, expecting only Ashton to hear it, but when I saw Belle’s eyes slightly widen, I knew I was wrong.

Feeling ‘pity’ for me, he rubbed my back, making me roll my eyes. I didn’t even know if this was genuine. “It’s okay, Michael. I know what’ll make you feel better!” 

He literally ran off to the kitchen of his house. Belle and I exchanged confused looks. We heard things rattle and fall, Ashton cursing, and pretty much a lot of noise.

“Come here!” He called, his voice cheerier than ever. 

We both stood up at the same time and made our way to the kitchen, no words spoken. We didn’t even greet each other, not even a simple glance.

“I prepared milk for you two,” he informed, pleased with his act of kindness.

Looking over at Belle, I found her rubbing her palms together, nervously. I knew what the problem was.

I got the first glass from the table and drank it all in one gulp, which was really hard to do, but I had to endure it, if I didn’t want to look like an idiot.

I got the second glass and did the same. It was even more difficult, but I managed to succeed.

Placing the glass on the table, I found the two giving me bewildered looks.

“That wasn’t for you,” Ashton complained. He crossed his arms like a child.

I shrugged, not letting annoyance get the best of me. “Belle’s allergic to milk; you can’t make her drink that.”

He gaped for a few seconds but huffed after. “I knew that, please.” Turning to Belle, he sheepishly grinned. “Sorry.”

Belle pat his shoulder, reassuring him. “It’s alright, don’t worry about it.” She pulled something out of her pocket and went to me, her dimple showing because of her smile.

She dabbed the thing– her handkerchief, on the top of my lips.

“Thank you, Michael.”