pretty boy ; malum

03| THE PROPOSITION

Michael decides that if he wants answers, he'll have to go to somebody else. Ashton's lips lock so tight that Michael is convinced that he's Calum's diary. He'll never let one secret out. He paces around his living room, glasses and a set of flannel pyjamas on. "As much as he drives me up the wall, I think you need to understand that he has a reason for why he is the way he is, and I don't think it's my job to tell you that." He says, sitting down on the faded cream couch next to Luke, who wears glasses as he watches a reality TV show.

Michael sighs, fingers wrapping around a mug of tea as he blows some steam off the top. He just wants to understand. He doesn't like having things that he can't figure out. "He gets all weird when I talk about him being hurt."

"You expect him to talk about stuff like that with you?" Ashton asks, looking grandpa-like as he draws the blinds to get away from the snow outside. It's clear he's frustrated talking about Calum, but Michael doesn't want to stop. "Michael, you haven't even explained to him why you said yes in the first place."

"Level with him," Luke chimes, calming his husband's frustrations as he rubs off his face mask. "Calum wouldn't talk to me for weeks until he figured out he could trust me. He's had a lot of people fuck him over. Did you notice that he doesn't let people touch him?"

"Luke," Ashton snaps. "Don't say that stuff."

Michael wants to ask, but doesn't as they bicker before Ashton gives up and throws a cushion at Luke. There's a bang on the front door that interrupts them all from their thoughts. "Hey Ash, I need to talk."

It's Calum. Michael scrambles. He told Calum he'd be doing interviews. He stands up, about to go out the back door, but it's too late. He can't think of anything good to say as Calum comes in, raising an eyebrow as he struggles to make a sentence. "Cough it the fuck up, dude."

"Um, nothing." Michael says, thankful Calum forgot about the lie.

Calum and Ashton go into another room that Ashton uses for business, and Michael looks to his manager. Maybe he could get something out of Luke. He sits down, and without a beat, Luke says, "I'm not doing it. You have to be friends rather than cheat your way through it with me."

Michael slaps him on the shoulder, pouting. "You guys are no fucking fun."

Luke hits him back before turning up the TV, ignoring Michael's whines. Calum walks out with a blank expression, curls hidden under a beanie as he grabs Michael by the jacket, leading him into Ashton's work room. Michael struggles to get out of his grip, but the Maori throws him carelessly into the chair next to him. Across the desk, Ashton wears a serious face despite dressed in glasses and flannel pyjamas.

"So, as usual, Calum's pissed off." Ashton addresses, hands clasped as he looks at them both. "Luke and I have created a schedule for when you two need to be together for events and things like that."

Calum crosses his arms, mumbling a, "fucking ridiculous" under his breath as he sinks into his chair. "Can I do anything by myself?" he asks, tone desperate as frowns.

Michael resists the urge to tell him to shut up as he says, "I'm not that bad. You could have some girl attached to your arm, which I know you would hate, gay boy." He taunts, thoughts miles away from the guy who he pitied days before.

Calum is soaked in anger, now. "I'm not gay." He glowers, eyes narrowing on the smaller man next to him. "Don't say that."

Ashton interrupts them both. "Jesus Christ. You two need to grow up. Here's the schedule. Learn it and stop whining. Especially you, Calum. Michael is one of the most loved people in the world right now, and you are one of the most hated. Acknowledge it." He snaps.

Calum closes his mouth. As much as he fights Ashton, he knows that Ashton is trying to do what is right. He grabs a copy of the schedule and marches out wordlessly, because he knows that if he says anything, Ashton will only yell at him more.

Ashton looks at Michael, who is smiling small, hoping it will be contagious and they will forget all about it this. Ashton isn't smiling. Michael is kind of terrified. "You have no right to say that to him." He says lowly, like a father to his son. "Calum has issues of his own, but he has never insulted you with something you can't help." Michael thinks he's stopped breathing. Ashton's hazel eyes have turned a dark brown, boring into his own as he struggles to contain his thoughts. "Take your schedule and get out of my office."

Michael leaves, tail between his legs. He examines the schedule in his Uber. VMAs, boxing matches, interviews. They were together through it all. Despite having a love-hate relationship with Calum, he reaches for the phone in his pocket.

michael: do you want to come to my house so we can talk about this?

calum: no. not really.

Michael sighs, hating his stubbornness before texting back, do it for your career. I know you hate me, but you're on the verge of her pressing charges. make yourself look like the good guy.

calum: come over to mine.

Calum's apartment is small and lacks in colour, photos of his family sprayed across the fireplace mantel-piece. Michael finds it odd that he hasn't mentioned them once. Every article never talks of his background, because - as far as they're concerned - he doesn't have one.

Calum sits in a rocking-chair, blanket on his lap as he drums his nails to distract himself from getting angry. He looks to the cigarettes that hang out of a coat-pocket, collecting dust. It's tempting, but it shortens his breath for boxing. "So," he says, "the VMAs are tomorrow."

Michael nods, picking up a photo of Calum's supposed relative, smiling small as he notices the Maori's grin in the photo. He looks young. He looks free. "You'll have to get a suit."

Calum tries to drop the anger, the corners of his mouth turning upwards slightly. "What makes you think I don't have one?" he asks playfully. "You think I'm not a man of many suits?"

Michael matches his expression, smirking as he races to find Calum's bedroom. Calum runs after him, but it's too late. Michael has locked eyes on the bedroom, and the open closet. He sees nothing but tank-tops and tracksuits. "You loser," Michael snorts, shoving him before sitting down on his unmade bed.

He doesn't miss the fact that Calum freezes before slowly sitting down across from him. He wonders what could have happened. He wonders why the small, grinning child has turned to strong, angry man. "Let's make a proposition," he starts, looking up at the olive-skinned boy who tilts his head in return. "No secrets, and no acts. You don't have to be the same boxer boy around me that you are with the public." He asks gently, leaning over as he notices their knees touching. Calum isn't flinching. It's progress.

He puts his hand on Calum's thigh. It feels like the world stops. Calum looks at him, but has no words, so he listens to Michael's instead. "I'm sorry for insulting you." He says like a promise, looking into his eyes.

"And I'm sorry for being mad." Calum confesses, focused on the hand on his skin. "I just don't like anything new." It's something at the pit of his stomach that lets him know that this is important. This is something that he doesn't feel often.

Michael's hand stays on his lap. He gets used to it.

Malummmm

Thoughts on Ashton yelling at Michael? Was he right or too harsh?

What do you think about calum warming up?

What do you think about them kind of getting along?

What do you think of this fanfic?