spotlight :: malum

: eighty four :

"Merry Christmas, weirdo." Michael grinned, soft eyelashes batting as the sound of the bluetooth playing Christmas classics muffled in the background. It was just them right now, late at night, they returned home from a successful dinner at Calum's parents house. They were bombarded with pestering little cousins that were very excited to meet Calum's new boyfriend and as much as Michael finds kids amusing and adorable, once they left he was relieved.

The two of them were both dead tired and quite honestly full to the brim with all the dinner and desserts that were offered. Neither of them declined the dishes sent their way. Michael kept laughing every time Calum would grab seconds, muttering about how he'll just do an extra hour or two of his workout the next day.

The redhead covered the maori's eyes as he whispered to him, making sure that his guided movements didn't have them bumping into anything.

"You didn't have to get me anything." Calum's smiling awfully big on the contrary to his statement, hands held out blindly trying to shuffle down the hallway.

"I wanted to." The redhead saw this coming, it was expected by now. He knows that he doesn't like surprises, let alone presents in general, but this felt like it was made for Calum. He had to splurge on it.

They reach his studio room, it's messy, as per usual. Calum's gotten into his writing a little bit more each day. The momentum picks up pace after time, constantly getting up from his bed in the middle of the night, taking his journal with him. Michael ends up stirring awake each time, confused and in a daze, but calms down the second he hears Calum singing to himself quietly next door.

They stand in the room for what feels like hours in the maori's mind. The carpeted rug soft against his sock clad feet. He's still in his fancy dinner clothes, a nice deep red button down and his skinny jeans on, Michael complimented him the second he walked out of the bathroom in it (he hid his blushing face the entire time).

"Ready?" Michael rocks on the heels of his feet, hands already starting to move away when he nods in reply.

"Tada!" He raises his hands and announces to the brunette in front of him, waiting in anticipation, eyes already wide with worry that he won't like it.

Set down on the coffee table in it's case is a bass guitar. To be precise, a 1960's Fender Precision bass that's got gold detailing and a blonde-ish undertone. Polished and brand new and probably ten grand if he had to guess. It's gorgeous. He hasn't bought a new bass in over a year, this one seems to be perfect.

He parts his lips, still not believing it's actually there, that this is now his. To test the authenticity of it he walks closer to the coffee table, a delicate caress of the maple neck has him gawking.

"Did you really–?" He cranes his neck from the bass to the boy across the room, the worry in those green eyes diminishes the second he sees Calum's face break into the brightest smile.

"For me?" His voice goes up higher and gets quieter, staring back down at the instrument. No one's ever bought him something like this, he never lets anyone buy him anything in the first place. He thought it was selfish, having so much money yet getting presents anyway.

"I saw it, and Tiff said you were looking for a new one when we were on tour, so I got it." He steps his way towards the maori, finding himself in between his arms. Instantly succumbed by the scent of his expensive cologne. Startled by the sudden affection he's quick to hug him back.

He relaxes into his touch, perking his head up so his chin rests on the boy's chest, staring up at the way the maori is gazing down at him, eyes wide with admiration, laced with giddiness.