Day Nine

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A/N: Before you freak out and try to find the chapters before this one, I'll just let you know this is a time lapse. Also, I was entirely thinking of putting the time down as 4:20. . .   ._. I have no life.

3:46.

Michael opens the door and spends four minutes trying to get his old lady walker through the door frame.

"Damn, I'm really going to need start leaving earlier." He huffs, looking up at the clock and taking a seat in the chair next to Calum's bed. He collapses the walker and rests it against the bedpost.

"Look at that bad boy," Michael gestures wildly at the walker. "Apparently the cane wasn't working well enough, now I've got to tow around the hunk of junk so I won't randomly fall over."

Two weeks ago Michael spent an hour complaining about the disadvantages of carrying around a cane. The truth was that Michael was getting weaker, his legs would wobble if he wasn't supporting most of his weight, his skin was starting to cave in around his eyes and beneath his cheekbones, he didn't look to well.

"So I told you a lot of secrets last week and I've got another one. . ." He trailed off, trying to collect his thoughts and word it properly. "To tell you the truth, I haven't told anyone. Not my mum, not Ashton, not Luke. Not even Roslyn."

He licks his lips, eyes gazing over the postered walls to buy himself more time.

Pac-Man.

Mario.

Ninja Turtles.

Usher.

Nirvana.

Paramore.

Michael had tacked several posters up on the otherwise white walls, whenever he was feeling well or well enough to stand without some kind of support.

Michael had finally admitted to Calum that he has a habit of leaving his things all over the place. Even sharing a story about leaving a pair of Regular Show boxers at Ashton's house and finding them in Ashton's fish tank after a wild party.

 But only people he felt comfortable around, adding that he realized he doesn't really take anything out of his bag unless it was necessary. He had also pointed out that Calum's room was definitely more decorated and warm that his own.

"You know what?" He suddenly speaks up, shattering the hazy silence with his scratchy voice.

"I can't even tell you. I want to get it off my chest, but I physically can't its just not working." He begins to get worked up about the lack of speech on his part, opening and closing his mouth to try and demonstrate what was going on.

He shakes his head, seemingly disheartened that he can't quite get the words out just yet.

He turns up the X-Men CD player to keep the room from plunging into an awkward silence. It doesn't work right, the music just seems to emphasize how quiet it really is, Michael's having trouble breathing properly, choking on the sudden stiflingly warm air surrounding him.

"I think I need some air." Michael blurts out, followed by long coughs that send his lungs into a frenzy. He gets up, heading for the door.

His legs wobble before giving out completely, forcing him against the cold floor tiles.

"This is a disaster," He mutters under his breath, struggling to get back up. "I should really consider getting Life Alert or something." Michael attempts to joke as he uses the chair to ease himself back up.

When he finally manages to stand, he retrieves his walker and heads out.

"Goodnight Calum."

11:09.

"I'm sorry." Is the first thing the baby blue haired boy blubbers as he clumsily rushes into the room.

"Its getting so hard to sleep, they've got me on this little breathing machine because I just stopped last night." He gestures to a somewhat portable looking thing that distinctly resembles a diver's air tank.

"It makes a weird rattling noise, I hope it doesn't bother you." He worries, suddenly rethinking his stay. The thought of his own bed seems so cold compared to Calum's, not to mention Calum must be super lonely.

Michael struggles a bit before finally getting the weird thing over his mouth and nose. He slides under the covers and snuggles into Calum's side.

His breath fogs up the clear rubbery plastic as he release carbon dioxide.

"Make a wish." Michael whispers, looking up a the clock. 

"I'd tell you my wish, but then it might not come true."

He yawns, face scrunching up in pain as he lets out a tiny whimper.

"I'm okay, its okay." Michael quickly reassures.

"Good night, Calum."

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