A Change In The Weather (Malum mpreg)

2.5

a/n:trying a different writing technique lets see how it goes

They didn't try again. Not right away. Calum was too sad to have any sexual drive. He spent most of his time in his bed despite his friends' efforts to get him to move. He was just so sad. He couldn't believe the thing that was growing in side of him just died and it was because his own body failed him.

At one point during one night, Calum migrated to the bathroom and is sprawled out on the floor with tears in his eyes. He's just hurthurthurting so much and he just wants it to stop. He wants it all to go away, he doesn't want to feel the sting or have to bare the guilt of losing Michael's child. He leans over the toilet and heaves everything out and coughs painfully. His stomach ached, his throat burned and he just wanted it all to stopstopstop.

Calum crawls in the bathtub and rubs his stomach slowly and softly, wishing that that little person was still alive in there.

Then, the air is knocked out if him. His fist connects with the soft skin on his stomach because he just hatehatehates his stomach for failing him. He digs his nails in the skin and drags them across the surface, even drawing blood sometimes. He pulls and tugs and pinches the skin on his stomach and let's out a choked sob. He's such a failure. He hopehopehoped it wouldn't come to this but he needed the touch of the blade.

Michael had gone out. He went out for a drink with Luke but he just wasn't feeling it. Something was twisting and stabbing him deep in his gut that something was just not right, and that he just had to leave right now. His phone starts ringing and he hopes it's Calum, to his luck, it is.

"Calum! I was jut about to call." Michael gushes into the phone over the loud music.

"M-Mikey I don't feel very w-well." Calum groans on the other end. In all honesty, he didn't sound very well.

"What's wrong baby?" the younger asks softly once he exited the club.

"My stom-ach." He mumbles and the there's the horrible sound of him gagging and then the sound of puking making Michael cringe.

"I'm on my way."

He came back inside and then left right away without even saying a word to Luke, just grabbing his jacket off of the counter and leaving in a rush. He ran back to the hotel, not trusting a taxi to get there in time.

When there was a continuous string of unanswered calls it only drove Michael to run faster down the four blocks to their hotel.

Calum had decided against the bathtub and was just sprawled out on the bathroom floor once more. His breathing was staggered and short and it scared him. He leaned over the toilet and heaved up even more food he had eaten, but had no energy to keep himself above the toilet any longer. So he fell on his back, his head making harsh contact with the bathtub before laying motionless on the ground. His body convulsed every now and then, his stomach still trying to empty itself but it ended up back firing, falling back down his throat.

Then the pounding on the door was in sync to the pounding in Calum's head, signaling the purple haired boy's arrival.

"Calum!" he shouted, his knuckles becoming bruised from the harsh wood. The door swung open once Michael realized it was unlocked and saw his beloved in the most horrifyingly disgusting way he could ever imagine.

Michael rushed to Calum's side and made sure he was still alive before he called the ambulance, wanting the olive skinned boy conscious again. Michael held the boy in his arms and turned him to his side so he couldn't choke anymore on his puke. When he heaved up even more vomit Michael thinks it pushed whether was blocking his airway out because his breathing was a little more steady than before.