Madi had a boyfriend who she loved unconditionally but she wasn't alright.
Ashton believed every "just fine" Madi would give him to swallow.
She thought she was good at hiding things until the day a stranger with purple hair asked what was wrong.
M...
I'm faced with a familiar white wooden door. My fist is up in the air and inches far from knock at the hard surface. I debate with myself. My doubts about if this is my only option are higher than ever.
Although, I know I'm not left with much options either.
Last night I went to Elle's dorm as promised. The plan was to pick up the charger and ask to let me crash there that night. What wasn't in the plan were the tears that ran down my face in front of them.
I had to explain. Of course, I had to explain. I've been lying so much to Elle for the past months, because I didn't want to worry them, that this time I knew it would be unfair if I lied.
Although, I didn't tell the whole story. I told them I broke up with Ashton and that's it. They tried asking questions but didn't insisted much because of my cries.
We didn't talk about it this morning either.
I know it's impossible for me to keep sleeping at Elle's dorm, so I came to the only person who can help me with my problem.
I'm debating in front of the door. My heavy duffle bag already on the floor for being too much for my shoulder to carry it so much time.
As a sigh leaves my mouth, my knuckles hit on the door twice. For some reason, I pray for nobody to open the door. I pray that my feeling is wrong about him being here, when deep down there, I know the door will be opened any second now.
And it does.
I'm faced with that white smile and green piercing eyes. For his expression, I know he's surprised. But I know it's a good kind of surprised.
The green-eyed probably thinks he did something wrong because I've been ignoring his texts since last night.
I study him for a second. He's wearing a par of black skinny jeans and an old oversized grey shirt with remains and strokes of paint on it. His purple hair is messy, and the dye is fading. I always loved the purple, it suits him so well. I think his pale skin and green eyes goes well with the purple of his hair. Gorgeous.
A small smile that could never reach my eyes is send in his way and he invites me to come in. Grabbing my things from the floor, I walk inside the empty apartment and sit down on the old couch where I once laid down to be target of a painting.
The painting Michael started last week is still on the easel. I can recognize myself in the canvas. And I can see the touch he gave me. I look different. The colours are beautiful. The purples and the blues contrasting with the yellows and oranges, everything together is breath-taking. How could Michael transform me in something this beautiful?
He's such a fucking artist.
Michael sits beside me. His presence feels good. As always. I always feel so good when I'm around him. Hopeful and safe, I dare to say although I'm not really sure because the feeling is unexplainable.
I don't know where to start. I don't know what to say.
An indie song plays softly on the background. It's so Mikey. Arctic Monkeys. His favourite band of all the time. I remember him telling me, that day in Brooklyn, when he found me dancing alone in the record store.
"What's wrong?" He asks straightforward. This is one of the things I like about Michael the most. He's not afraid do ask, to speak. He doesn't circle around the subject, he just goes straight to it. No if's, no but's, no fear.
I glance at him and he has a deep frown. I like his smile better, because it's always so bright and beautiful.
"I need to ask you a favour." He nods at me to go on and I take a deep breath. "Do you let me crash here just until the finals? I just need somewhere to stay until the end of the semester." My breathing started picking up, a lump in my throat forms up and I can feel the tears in my eyes already.
"What happened?" The concern in his words is so obvious and when my hands start shaking, he holds them in his.
His hands are warm. His touch delicate.
"I- I..." Just say the damn words! Why is always to voice something? Is it because when you say it out loud it seems that it hurts even more that it already does? "I broke up with Ashton." I tell him. But I don't only tell him that, just like I did with Elle. I tell him everything. I tell him about the photos, the reason why I called Saturday at one in the morning. I tell him the disappointments, the broken promises, the reasons for the countless tears that I cried.
He listens. I felt the need to tell him everything. Michael has always been there for me since the day we met without asking questions or demanding answers.
"I couldn't take it anymore." I cry out. At this point, I'm crying in his shoulder while he embraces me with his arms around me.
"It's ok." He whispers. His voice is soft like velvet and sweet like vanilla. "Everything is going to be fine."
I want to believe him. I really do. Why does it seem so impossible to me that everything will be fine again? I don't know what that is anymore.
What is it like to feel fine? To feel good and happy.
Will I ever feel that again?
A/N: so hello!
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tell me your thoughts
Madi going to michael for help?
She telling him everything?
Michael being there for her?
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