Stranger » Malum

Day Sixteen

A/N: Woah what's this? Triple update? Okay maybe you saw this coming but just pretend to be surprised.

Your comments are really cute, I love when you get really into the book. ^-^ your comments aren't annoying either, I love them all.

3:15.

Still no Michael.

The temperature of the room seemed to drop with every passing second, growing chillier with the dissipating hope that the technicolor haired boy would push the door open and wheel himself into the room in his chunky little wheelchair.

I Miss You was like a broken record by now, its like the buttons on the CD player broke and now all it can do is repeat one song.

Suddenly the room burst into life, not actual life. Michael's life in the past year.

Semi transparent images of Michael danced around the room, each sporting one of his many hair colours.

Baby blue.

Yellow.

Neon Pink.

White.

Dark Brown.

Each depicted a moment that took place in the confounds of Calum's hospital room.

Michael singing along to All Time Low as he tacked up posters.

Michael throwing his Manchester United jacket down on the chair.

Michael walking into the room on Calum's birthday with the large cart.

Michael falling onto the ground after forgetting his walker.

Michael playing air guitar with his cane.

Michael examining Calum's wristband.

Michael cuddled up to Calum's side.

Michael seated in the chair next to Calum's bed, whispering secrets to the sleeping boy.

MichealMichaelMichael

None of the little hologram like Michaels were leaving though, none were throwing last words to Calum before shutting the door.

 The room dimmed at an uncomfortable level, drawing attention to one Michael. He was extremely pale a shaky. He makes himself comfortable in his chair before his mouth opens and he begins to spew out words at such a mute level that not even a microphone could pick it up.

He unravels a black and grey scarf from around his neck before the scene replays, with each time Michael's voice raises.

It sounds like its being hard from underwater, "If I do miss another day you can assume I'm very well dead."

He's missed two in a row.

Michael's paper white image falls into a pile of dust in the chair only to have a different Michael appear, wheeling himself into the light.

This time he's screaming with tears brimming his eyes, hand scrambling for something.

"Calum, I'm dying!" His words seem to slide out slower than his tears, not quite matching the movements of his lips.

Calum, I'm dying.

alum, I'm dying. .

lum, I'm dying. . .