Ghost ⇔ Cake ✓

Three: The Case Files of Calum Hood

A/N: CALUMS HAIR. SO CURLY
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Michael hated pretty much everybody he came across. There really weren't many people he genuinely liked. He was a body filled to the brim with fire and rage, and nothing he had ever done had been able to simmer that down.

He supposed, if he were to talk to some psychiatrist about it, they would say it had to do with his home life. Or, lack thereof. His parents didn't hate everybody, like Michael, but they certainly didn't love everybody. They never wanted a son, so Michael knew he was an accident. They made that quite clear to him through their ignorance throughout his childhood. Michael raised himself on the streets, picking fights and learning the hard way how to deal with people in the real world.

In fact, looking back, he definitely hated Luke. He was some asshole blonde guy in his class that kept smart mouthing the teacher and thinking he was all that simply because he had good looks on his side. Michael thought it was ridiculous. The sight of him made his skin crawl. So he told Luke so, after one of their classes, expecting Luke to get all offended and flip him the bird or something.

Instead, Luke laughed, which may well have been worse. He laughed, very unbothered, and then said, "I like you, rich kid. Let's hang out sometime."

Michael sat for days with Luke's cell number scrawled on a sticky note in his pocket. He was going to ignore it, considering Michael was rich and had a house to himself and had no friends, and nobody needed friends if you were rich. But Michael got lonely sitting in his giant mansion all the time with nobody to talk to. So he called Luke.

Michael didn't even really like Luke even when they started hanging out. Luke still was wearing his mask of charm and elegance, and he pretended like he was some happy go lucky guy who didn't have a care in the world. The type of guy that could get slapped in the face and would just laugh at the pain.

Luke didn't let down his guard until they were "friends" for about two months. Then he saw Luke crack, just for a moment, when he was talking to his brother on the phone. Luke never had a good relationship with his brother, and Michael saw that disguise slip, and he saw raw, course pain underneath.

That's when Michael decided Luke would be his exception.

And then Calum came along, and he became an exception too. Then came Ashton, and he did as well.

Michael hadn't found an exception since. It was just the four of them, tight as friends could be, and those were the only three people Michael didn't hate. Michael didn't really know why, considering all of them were kind of assholes, but maybe that was why. Fire meets fire.

Michael met up with Luke and Ashton after school, duly shocked that Luke had managed the entire day. Ashton had his hands stuffed in his pockets, head down. The hoodie cast a shadow over his face, hiding his bruising.

God. All Michael wanted was to go to Ashton's house and beat the shit out of his dad the same way his dad does to Ashton. Get a taste of his own medicine. But then he would probably lose Ashton as a friend, and Michael didn't have many to begin with. Especially now that Calum--

Don't think about it.

Luke looked up at Michael. He said, "Come to the police station with me, Clifford." It wasn't a question. Luke almost always spoke in imperatives. Michael shrugged noncommittally but followed the two of them to Luke's car.

Michael had his own. A very nice red Ferrari, to be specific. If Michael didn't hate the fact that he was rich, he might have drove that around instead. But being rich reminded him of his parents. And Michael hated his parents.