cigarette butts ➸ michael clifford

cigarette butts

"You don't fucking understand!" Michael growled, his fist flying out, clearly missing his target, who wasn't very impressed, and sending himself off balance.

Michael was wasted. And on top of that, high. The thought of himself made his skin crawl, stomach churn. A fuck up - useless. He wasn't good enough for anybody. His heart ached when he thought of the most recent breakup. Nina. She was too good for him and she knew it. He couldn't be a good friend or boyfriend, because he always felt weighed down by his dark thoughts. He was always missing something, so he tried to patch it up with booze and drugs, but it was just eating away at the hole, making it bigger. He was a loser. A fucking loser.

"I do understand, Michael!" Luke yelled, clearly upset and shaken by his best friends state.

Michael's vision was faulty, as the lines of reality and unconsciousness blurred together. His grip on the table had tightened, his knuckles turning white. His veins were showing, as he tried to keep himself steady - his wobbling form becoming harder to control.

"Everyone hates me. I'm not bothered. I'm really not. I've accepted it. I hate me, too. I hate me and that's it," Michael shrugged.

"You are bothered. If you weren't bothered, we wouldn't be in this situation. You drinking for nights on end, going to parties and sniffing god knows fucking what!" Luke all but screamed. "It hurts you and it hurts us to watch you hurt."

"You don't know me, you're perfect and everybody loves you and everything goes right for you. I hate me. I'm a nobody!" he spat.

Silence consumed the room, shock overriding Luke's every thought. Luke was far from perfect, no matter what anybody said, and to hear this sort of self hate coming from Michael's lips, truth be told, scared him.

"You need help, Michael," Luke said softly, scrubbing at the tears rolling down his cheek. "You can't do this tour anymore. WE can't do this tour anymore."

Michael just snorted and retreated to the couch, stumbling on his way. They were all in agreement that he needed to take some time out for him. He didn't want this as much as they did, but it happened and fighting it was way too exhausting.

"What's the matter, Lukey?" Michael slurred, a lopsided grin hanging off his face as he pulled out a little baggy, "want a line?"

His laughter swirled around the empty flat, a haunting sound present in Luke's ears. This wasn't Michael. This was what was left of him. Luke couldn't let this go on and he wasn't going to sit back and watch him deteriorate. The door swung open, with Calum and Ashton shuffling in awkwardly, whilst Michael's head, which was lolling about on the sofa, was trying to stay upright, facing in their direction.

"You ready to party?" Michael hiccuped, one eye twitching, trying to wink.

"For fuck's sake," Calum muttered, eyeing his friend warily.

Michael's eyes were rolling into the back of his head, then they'd reappear, trying to focus on his surroundings.

"This isn't Michael," Ashton breathed, scared.

"I don't care what it takes, Michael's getting help. He can't keep up with the damage he's causing," Luke sighed.

Ashton took one look at Michael and shook his head at his recently passed out form. He heaved him up onto his shoulder and looked at the boys. They all looked sad, angry and disappointed. Luke was sniffling, Calum was looking at his hands, Michael was passed out and Ashton. Well, Ashton was guilty. Why didn't he do it sooner? He's meant to be the "big brother."

"We don't speak of this to anyone, alright?" Ashton commanded.

Luke was the first one to pledge his promise of silence to him and Calum followed suit, but not before giving him a sad sigh. Ashton nodded and turned before leaving the room, an intoxicated, bruised and mentally battered boy in tow. He took a few steps out in to the bitter, cold night and opened the car door with one hand. He plopped him in the backseat, muttering about seatbelts and breaking the law, before slamming the door shut and sliding into the front seat.

"Why, Mikey?" Ashton muttered, turning the key in the ignition.

The car roared to life, rousing an unconscious Michael, but he quickly was swallowed by sleep again. Ashton fiddled around with a few things on the Sat Nav, before sighing and starting the journey.

"52 miles to go before reaching destination Coral-dale Rehab Facility center."

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Hey there!

This is my first ever book on wattpad and if any of you find this story familar, which I doubt, I posted it on Mibba a year ago, however never finished it and changed the writing quite a lot. This story is my baby and even though it's not as good as it can be, I'm proud of it.

My names Cassie, by the way. What's yours?:)

It'd be rad as frick if I could get some feedback off you guys. (((hint hint)))

I might put it in 3rd and 1st person - 3rd for Michael and 1st for Ruby idk helP?