fanboy ↦ michael clifford {au}

thirty-three: swollen

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE:

| michael’s pov |

“Do you feel better?” She asked, as she dabbed a wet towel at the bottom of my eyes. Belle told me earlier that this would probably help reduce the swelling, but I didn’t really care. I was at home. 

I just didn’t like the fact that she had to see me like that. 

I nodded, making a faint sound to let her know I agreed. My voice was hoarse, so I would have sounded so sickly if I had spoken.

“It’s good to cry once in a while, you know? So don’t feel embarrassed, if you are embarrassed.” If I could only open my eyes, I bet I would’ve seen her giving me a smile. 

She tried her best to make me feel better, the whole duration of her time here, and I was thankful for that. 

Though I did feel ashamed, she didn’t laugh at me. She didn’t say anything about how much of a loser I was, crying like a baby.

“And we’re done!” She removed her hands from my face and felt someone sit down beside me. “Sorry, though. It kind of… didn’t work.”

“It’s okay.” I tried my best to at least give a small smile to her, but I couldn’t. I was still frowning; the gloomy feeling lingering. 

I opened my eyes, blinking a few times because my vision was blurry. It kind of hurt, but I was fortunate enough to really have no tears left. They were gone, the same way my hope to even have a chance with Belle was.

Belle cleared her throat to fill in the awkward silence. “So, hi,” she greeted, waving a bit.

“Hi, Belle,” I replied, lacking the same friendliness she had. This was how I felt right now– enclosed. I see no reason why I should fake happiness.

There was a long pause; she looked around, noticing how cold I sounded. “How are you feeling?”

“I feel like shit,” I deadpanned.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, pursing her lips very tightly.

“For what?” 

“For leaving you,” she answered. 

“It’s fine; Ashton needed you. I get it.” I wasn’t lying. Well, I wasn’t fully lying. It wasn’t fine, but I understood. It's Ashton we’re talking about.

She rubbed her nape, not knowing what to say. 

“Here, I forgot to give it to you.” I hand her the envelope I was supposed to give her the last time we met.

If she was going to avoid me after this, then let it be. 

I shouldn’t give a damn anymore.

I can’t give a damn anymore.