The Mess I Made | Malum

♡ sunflowers growing from the couch ♡

Calum woke up to a room he didn't recognize, and then he remembered he was staying with a stranger. An attractive stranger. He used both of his thumbs to massage his forehead, crinkling his face up the slightest bit. He was covered up with a brown blanket, and on the floor, right where his arm was draping down, was his painting. There were plenty errors that he could see, and it frustrated the brunette to no end. He had a headache, and he didn't remember much of last night other than a pile of tears after Michael went upstairs.

He needed to call Mae, and for what reason, he wasn't sure. Hell, he knew why he wanted to, but needed was on an entirely new level that he just couldn't reach. He wasn't ashamed for having interest in painting Michael. It wasn't like he was going to date the guy, and he needed to tell her that.

He pulled his phone out from the pocket of his sweatpants — not remembering putting these on last night, and he dialed her number. The first time he called, it went to voicemail. The next three times went to voicemail as well. Eventually, she picked up.

"Hello Calum."

Calum sighed into his phone with a smile on his face. It was so relieving hearing her voice. It was calming and beautiful and it sounded like nature. He could hear the roots growing on trees from the ground, and he could hear the rays of sunlight beaming through the clouds. Everything felt so smooth with her. "It's so nice to talk to you. Really."

"Good for you then, Calum."

Her responses were brief and short, and Calum knew he fucked up. "So listen, I wanted to apologize for what I said and did. It was wrong and uncalled for, and I shouldn't have treated you like that. You're beautiful, and wonderful, and I took that for granted. I wasn't looking at Michael like he was the most pulchritudinous male in the universe. I was just. . How do I put this? I was. . excited. To have something different to paint, but I regret it because I should have painted you. And I'm. . I'm just laying here feeling so stupid because I know I lost you, and I want you back."

"I appreciate what you said," she paused, taking a deep breath and gulping down something, which Calum assumed was tea, "but it doesn't change anything. We're done, Calum, and I mean it this time."

"He means nothing to me." Calum could feel himself getting choked up. "He's just some freak that I could care less about. He means absolutely nothing to me, and he never will. Okay, Mae? Nothing."

Calum could hear silence coming from the other end of the line, until he heard the sound of someone clearing their throat. Calum turned around, only to see Michael standing there, looking completely worn down. Calum's eyes widened, and he hung up the phone without another word, knowing very well that she didn't want to talk to him.

"Some freak?" Michael laughed bitterly, his voice cracking. "Some freak? Wow, I let you stay until closing. I let you stay in my house, gave you a blanket, gave you food and comforted you. But none of that matters, right? Because I'm just some 'freak.'"

Calum shook his head and clenched his eyes shut. "I didn't mean it like that. You're not a freak. I'm just — I'm having a hard time adjusting to being without Mae. It's driving me crazy."

Michael shook his head. "I know what you meant. I tried to be nice to you, and you took advantage of me. If that's how you really feel, then get out."

Once again, Calum made a mess of himself.

He nodded, stood up from the couch, and started walking off without turning back. He was horrible, and he knew that, but he also didn't know how change himself for the better. Before stepping out of the door, he paused and said to Michael, "keep the painting. I want you to have it."