spotlight :: malum

: twenty nine :

Soft eyelashes fluttered open at ten in the morning, streaks of sunlight wove through the shades on the windows of this bedroom and fell upon the huge bed they both were lying in, hands lazily going up and rubbing his eyes not really comprehending whether or not any of this was real. Last night felt too good to be true, his favorite movie, a good meal, it all gave him a sense of cloud nine.

This had to be a dream, he felt too relaxed in the morning today, he's usually nowhere near this fulfilled and bright yet he was living, breathing proof that he was happy so early.

His body sat up in the king sized bed, it's covers tumbling down into his lap and revealed the oversized shirt he wore, both of his pale hands smoothing down the fabric and grabbing fistfuls of it to prove it was real and there.

Michael could swear this isn't real but when his fingers pricked to pinch his arm and he stayed sitting on the heavenly bed he blinked. He never would've expected his night to be so- what's the correct word? Perfect? Yeah, perfect.

At the same time he sighed hearing Calum's phone buzz softly from the bedside table where his song book lies, Michael knows its bad to snoop and let it be. No secrets, he promised the boys that and he'll stick to it.

They're sticking to the rule as well, never stepping over the line and always listening to each other. It's odd, though. He heard too much of the truth last night, or maybe the correct way to word it is he felt too much.

On instinct his hand traced a pattern into the brown maori beside him, his arm spread across the bed and showing his many works of beautiful ink up and down his wrist that trailed up to his bicep. He remembers the soft touch, he woke up the second Calum placed him onto the bed, but he kept his eyes shut planning to just drift back to sleep and it didn't happen as fast as he had hoped it to go. Things were spoken, so many thoughtful words rambled off his tongue and he never felt more safe than when Calum talked about wanting to write a song about him, just him.

Of course, he only smiled in his 'sleep' and stayed facing opposite to him thinking nothing much of his position. Until the faintest lines drawn into his back were felt, he could make out every single letter that he curved and pressed into his back and Michael wanted to tell him. He wanted to turn around before Calum could get even halfway through the second word because he knows Calum was struggling with his fear however, he had no clue he was the cause of it.

He made the heartless rockstar fall in love with him.

I love you was burned into his brain at this point, if he shut his eyes he could go back to that very moment and cherish every single second of it. But then he remembers all about Calum's breakdown, how he sobbed in the car trying to explain how he feels but nothing was coming out right and his lips were quivering too much. He was a wreck. The sound of him sniffling before choking out another sentence was heart wrenching, Michael made that happen.

Ignoring the bad side of this he turned to look at the sleeping head of curls beside him, lying on his left side as one hand was burrowed under his pillow and the other stretched across the bed as if Michael was still there and he was hugging his waist. His lips were together and his eyebrows were scrunched closer in a fit of sorts during whatever dream he was having. His face was slightly tense, the space under his eyes were red and puffy. Michael frowned.

The soft fingers of his leaned across the bed and fell upon Calum's horseshoe tattoo, swirling the outline of it lazily before drawing his finger all the way down the untouched brown skin that glowed in streaks from the sun's rays so beautifully. Those wonderful coffee-colored eyes blinked open gently, his vision focusing on the sight of a pale hand making soft swirls down his hand until he just reached out and intertwined their fingers.