365 // irwin

Chapter Four

DAY THREE

"Please- just say something. Anything. I'll take what I can get, Michael. Just speak to me."

I was met with silence and it was one of those dreadful silence that hung in the air like a thick smell. I winced slightly when he shuffled so that he was instead situated in the corner of his bed, wedged between the bed post and the wall.

I took advantage of the fact that his hand was outstretched and placed my own hand over it, running my thumb over his cold and blue knuckles. They sometimes said that they could hear him punching the walls during the night, the thought was extremely worrying and I often wondered if he thought he was punching the wall or perhaps something, someone else.

It was like what happened had quite literally torn him in two, hollowing out his insides and weakly sowing him back together in attempts to repair what once was. Michael Clifford was no longer the boy, the young adult that used to laugh and play but had rather evolved into a living skeleton.

He had grown to be timid as he quickly retracted his hand, placing his hands over his face and shaking his head, winces leaving his lips as he shrunk further into his bed. Michael wasn't always like this, he used to be the life of the party, he would be the one running down the street with a bottle of Vodka in one hand and some balloons in the other. He would be the one trying to talk us into a club when we were all sixteen and somewhat adventurous. He would be the one colouring his hair a different colour every other day proclaiming it was for the sake of artistic expression, we all knew the truth - he became bored easily. Which was exactly the reason why he was constantly on the move. The person he was now paled to the one that he used to be.

His pink cotton candy hair - which had once matched his bright personality - had now dulled to almost a white which seemed oddly fitting for the situation.

"Michael--"

The most bone crushing thing was when he shied away from me, as if I was going to hurt him, as if I were some sort of danger. His hands returned to cover his face, his matted hair being pulled at as he knotted his fingers in it. Weak winces left his lips, a noise resembling that of a puppy. I sighed again as I reached over, entangling my fingers with his own and holding it in my own. And for a moment he was still, his breaths had become longer and his body had stopped shaking as his hand melted into mine, his eyes emerged from where they were hiding. Though they were still wide, they almost seemed more gentle as his eyes darted round my face. 

Another whimper left his lips as he practically threw himself at me. His arms enveloped me, his face nuzzling into my neck, his hair tickling my face. More strangled cries left his lips as he continued to wriggle his body so that he was on his knees, me standing on my feet. When I felt something wet on my neck, I had to bite down on my lip to ensure that tears didn't fall from my face instead. 

We just stood there for a couple moments, absorbing one anothers company and I had to admit that I missed him. I had missed his company. But as we stood there, the lingering memory of the boy who had become a had stuck to my mind. And though I missed Michael, and I'd count my lucky stars tonight that he bothered to even look at me, there isn't a thing I wouldn't do for him to be the boy who had become a had.

There wasn't a thing I wouldn't do to feel the boy who had become a had's lips pressed against mine, his arms wrapped round my body, his hair tickling my neck, his nose brushed against mine. There were times where you could almost forget, where you could almost forget the pain rumbling through your body, but at times it hit you in the gut. And this was one of those times.

I pulled back from the hug only to see his eyelids closed, tears staining his cheeks. It wasn't long before he retracted back into himself, slipping down under the covers and shying away.

"Michael," I hadn't an idea why I was trying to talk to him again, it all seemed slightly pointless and I ended up stuttering slightly before continuing, "I-I-I please. Just talk to me. Anything. I know-- I know that it's hard after what happened to her. After what happened to--" His name was on the tip of my tongue but I remained silent as my eyes remained trained on the ground, "After what happened to him. But I can help you, Michael. All the people here, they can help you. You don't have to be afraid all the time."

I'd never quite figured out if he didn't talk because he couldn't or he chose not to, but I enjoyed entertaining myself with the earlier thought, hoping that he didn't talk to me because he didn't want to. 

"If he were here, Mikey-" That seemed to draw his attention as he peered out over his shoulder, his face still fresh with tears, his chest moving up and down as his breath remained heavy. And I was stunned every time I saw him, how broken he looked. His skin had become so pale that you could almost see it becoming slightly purple in some spots. His knuckles were almost raw, most likely due to the pounding on the walls at night, he was broken and was tearing me apart with him, "If he were here. You know he'd want you to speak as well. You know this is what he would have wanted, what she would have wanted, they would have wanted us to be here for each other. You know they would have wanted us to get through this together."

Michael didn't respond to me. He never did. He just looked at me with the same terrified expression on his face. I reached into my bag when it started to vibrate only to pull a wince out from him as he retreated into his corner again.

I looked down at my phone to see "Obnoxious Swing Expert" appear on the screen. I didn't have any recollection of him stealing my phone and inputing his number, but it still brought a smile to my face, though it fell when I had to turn my phone off, stuffing it back into my bag.

I couldn't talk with him, that much was clear, I couldn't talk with him now, not here. I made it a mental priority to call him back later as I looked up at Michael. His eyes were darting between my phone and me, almost as if he were looking for an explanation for who it was on the other line. In fear of him freaking out just because I was talking with someone who was a stranger to him, I decided to tell a white lie just saying that it was Luke.

That seemed to calm him slightly as his eyes stopped darting around, instead resting on the bottom of his bed as he rocked back and forth, back and forth. It was almost maddening, but I sat there. I reached over slowly to his bedside, checking the drawers.

I extracted a book from inside of the drawers, flicking through the pages only to find faces of various males scribbled out, some pages torn in two. It was a wreck, but there was one boy and one girl that seemed to be spared throughout the entire book. I grinned as I looked at the pink crayon marks that were scribbled over the boys hair and the brown crayon marks replacing the girls once blonde hair.

"Is that you?" I asked, pointing to the boy with the pink hair, looking up at him with a smile on my face. His expression didn't change too much, his eyes still wide as he looked over to the book but I could swear that I saw the corners of his lips turn upwards just for a moment before returning back to their tight line. 

My fingers slowly moved over to the girl with brown hair, as I looked up again, an ever bigger smile on my face as I tapped her face twice asking, "Who's this?" His eyes darted up to meet mine before they moved back to the end of the bed, "Is this me?" 

That time I truly saw a hint of a smile on his face. It was rare seeing that smile, but my insides flipped every time that I did. I wobbled from side to side on my seat as I continued flicking through the book, my eyebrows creasing together by how many people that he'd scribbled out with a thick, black crayon. 

I sighed as I flipped to the last page, which was an image of the boy with pink hair and the girl with the brown hair on a white page. I ran my hand up and down my air, licking my lips as I looked up at him.

"You know it too, Mikey. You know it's just you and me here. Please-- Just give me something here. Help me help you. There are many bad people in this world, Michael. You know it as well as I do. There are bad people that do bad things, but I'm not one of them and neither are you."

Perhaps I was getting my hopes up. I take that back actually. I was most definitely getting my hopes up. I thought that he might have reached out, held my hand, perhaps even talk to me for the first time in a year but instead he fell onto his bed, pulling the quilt over his head and I could swear that I heard sobs and cries as a staff member came into the room, practically dragging me out.

A/N: I CHANGED HER NAME TO EMILIA I'M SORRY <3 BUT I CHANGED TORRES TO CLARKE AND YEAH YOU'LL GET USED TO IT I LOVE YOU.