A Change In The Weather (Malum mpreg)

1.9

I'm not sure what is going through my head. The screams are all too much, they're defening me, my eardrums are turning into mush. The longer they scream, the louder they get. The voices telling me what I need to do, screaming at me, altering my vision. People are becoming blobs and ghost like formalities and I can barely tell who is who anymore.
What is wrong with me? Am I so screwed in the head that I can no longer tell reality from fiction? I admit I need help, who can help? Who wants to deal with someone so messed up and out of their mind? Who has so much patients to deal with an idiot like me? All I can think about is the screaming and michaelmichaelmichael. I want him, and I want him now. He can fix me, right?
*
Michael
*
I have been spending my time at a local coffee shop. I am not exactly sure why, maybe because I like the smell, it brings back memories of early mornings and messy hair, dark love bites and hot coffee, cheeky smiles and smart remarks, all of the things that remind me of Calum are right here in this little shop on the foggy street corner in a small town in London.
I am not exactly sure on how I became of this particular shop, but I am sure glad I found it. Hardly anyone ever comes in, maybe a lonely teenager and sometimes and older man or woman with wandering eyes and a lost soul. People like them make me wonder if they're significant other died, perhaps they're a widow in seek of someone new at the lonely hours of the morning in a lonely café in a lonely town in London.
Early morning hours are always when I am the only soul present. The only one staring into the depths of my charcoal black coffee in means to create some deep and meaningful metaphor I feel that many have done before.
Nothing comes to mind though. Perhaps my mind have not the strength to come up with such a metaphor, not enough will power.
The wheels and cogs in my mind don't seem to work, my hands the only part of my body that decides to function along with my lips that gently wrap around the rim of the coffee stained mug as I sip down the beverage. Sometimes it burns the hell out of my mouth, but I think, it's nothing worse than what Calum went through so I can deal with it right?
Other times it's much to cool for my liking so I down it quickly and order another to replace the ugly cool coffee with the burning hot liquid that I think leaves blisters among the roof of my mouth and tongue.
They break open sometimes, I think, because I taste the harsh crimson among my tongue and feel it brush my teeth, for it is cold, like the depths of my soul.
Everyone who works here has become so accustom to my company, most of them learnt my name and greet me when I enter at the same time every night; 1:47 am. This is precisely the time I enter because I am no longer able to sleep at night. I escape when the soft snores of my band members can be heard and I travel quite a distance to arrive at this café.
The single most café that remains open 24/7. Mostly because in the winter, homeless people have no where to go, a homeless shelter would not come around for miles so they take refuge in the small shop.
Every so often I buy one or two a coffee if I notice one there, I figure one small good deed could at least put a dent in all of my major bad ones so hell won't be too bad for me on my arrival.
I watch passerbys quite often, mostly wondering what there life has become and if they want it to be such a way.
One particular night, a young girl appears in the café and orders a black coffee just as I have done many times before, and uninvitedly sits across from me in my booth. My poor navy blue booth with many holes and gum stuck under the table along with a somewhat arrangement of scattered crumbs all the way to the left by the condiments.
But she sits, and pulls a black hood from her head, revealing a dark head of hair with blond in her bangs and small tattoos on her face.
"Hey." she greets as the waitress sets down her coffee.
"Um, hi." I reply and take a sip of my own, keeping the cup in a firm grip. My eyes scan over her, she had red lipstick on and make up was smudged down her face as if she had been crying earlier. "Are you okay?" I ask as he grips her mug in the same way I do, showing off some more tattoos on her fingers. She removes one of her hands to try and wipe some of it away, but ends up making it worse.
"Yeah." she sighs, placing her other hand back around the mug. "I'm Kat by the way." she says with a small, obviously forced smile.
"Michael." I reply simply, taking another sip of the coffee before setting the empty mug on the edge of the table, waiting for it to be refilled silently. "What's wrong?" I ask after a moment of silence is shared between us. "Don't lie to me either." I warn her, giving her a hard stare.
"Just people being dicks because of my tattoos and my boyfriend dumped me today and I'm not even sure why." she says, slouching back on the seat. I pull my newly refilled coffee into my hands and take a sip, feeling the liquid burning my mouth all over again.
"Don't listen to those people. All you hear is people that aren't tattoo giving shit to people who are tattooed and not vise versa. It's your body you should be able to do whatever the fuck you want to it." I tell her, thinking back to when Calum would self harm, putting him in the hospital at least once that I know of. There I go again, why does everything lead me back to him? What has become of me?
What I said caused a smile to crawl upon those red lips, maybe it was a stupid half smile, but it was still a smile.
"Thank you, Michael." she says, taking a rather large gulp from her mug. "What about you? You seem like a regular here." she says as I shift my weight in my seat, the topic becoming a very intense one for me.
"I don't want to bore you with my sob story." I say, my eyes finding the black of my coffee again, ripples forming from Kat's fingers tapping on the table.
"I bored you with mine and you gave me an inspirational answer, so let's swap this time." She pauses for a minute and then scoots over to the edge of the booth. "Except, I told mine over coffee, you tell yours over a smoke. Deal?" she says, already standing up and brushing off her leather pants and fixing her hoodie.
"Okay." I mumble and stand with her, and make my way to the door with my hands buried deep in my jacket pockets. "Be right back, Martha!" I shout over my shoulder as we take a step outside.
"So tell me." she states, leaning on one of the support beams between the glass windows, holding a lit cigarette between her forefinger and her middle finger, pressing it between her lips as she waited an answer.
"My boyfriend, well I'm not sure if he's my boyfriend anymore, but he was involved in an accident. He wants to take a break, he said he wants time, but I don't understand. Time for what? I don't understand what he needs time for." I mumble, taking a long drag from my own fag, before tapping the butt, watching the ashes fall to the ground.
"Maybe he needs time to refocus, you know?" she says in a low voice. I shrug, still not quite understanding. "Well, because of this, so called 'accident', he must be hurting pretty bad, am I correct?" she asks, raising her head in the slightest bit to look at me. I nod slowly, trying to figure out where she was going with this. "Maybe he's hurting a lot more than you think. Maybe he got all messed up in the noggin." she points to her head and drops the rest of her cigarette to the ground, mine following soon after.
"Maybe." I mumble, my mind going on a rampage.
"Well, thank you, Michael, for sharing coffee, advice, and a smoke with me. I must be going though. Can you trust me?" she asks, looking up at me. I barely know this girl, and she's asking me to trust her already. I don't want to go with the rude way and say no, but I really don't trust a stranger.
"Sure.." I mumble, she obviously takes notice of my hesitation but seemingly chooses to ignore it.
"Hand me your phone." she holds her hand out expectantly, and surprisingly I only now notice that they're painted black. I hesitantly place the now unlocked mobile device in her hand and she smiles, looking through it and then typing some stuff. I hear her own phone go off and immediately know what she did.
"If you can trust me, call me if you need anything. I know we just met, but I'll be there for you." she smiles before walking away. I let a small grin creep onto my lips at the nice gesture and turn to see the end of her heel turning the corner.
Now that I'm standing here all alone, I wonder if I should return to the lonely café, or go back to my band members and attempt to get some sleep.
Just as I was about to return to the shop, my phone begins ringing.
"Hello?" I answer.
"Michael? It's Luke. Calum, he's asking for you."
**
A/n:cliff hangerrrrrr sorta idk
If you know who Kat is ily.
(Kat Von D btw)
Thanks so much for almost 2k reads ily
The new transformers is good and yeah
Hope you enjoy and shit.