Don't Stop | Michael Clifford

Chapter 19

When I woke up the next morning, the first thing I noticed was the warm breath hitting the back of my neck and an arm resting on my waist. I smile a bit as small snores escapes Michael's lips, until the hangover kicks in, making me groan. I'm not even sure what the last thing I remember is. I sit up slightly, looking around the room we were in. We were back in Michael's room that was a bit cleaner than last time I was here, and didn't smell as much. I then look down my body, slightly gasping. "Michael," I say, slapping his arm, making a snore escape his lips as he wakes up.

"What?" he groans, lying on his back as he lies hands to cover his face.

"Why am I wearing almost nothing?" I snap at him, making him spread his fingers so he looks at me, before smiling.

"Nothing happened Eleanor, just like I promised. Although you started stripping for me when we came here, the reason why you're not wearing so much. So I put you to sleep and you fell in deep immediately."

"Did I wake up afterwards?" I ask, remembering the first time him and I really talked together, where I had woken up (not that I could remember myself)

"No, you've been asleep until now." Michael had slightly closed his eyes again, his face showing that he had a hangover. As I look at his torso, I see that he wasn't wearing a shirt, which got me to look at the fact that I was wearing Michael's shirt.

"Did you put this shirt on me?" I slightly mumble as I lie down in his arms. His body jumps a bit as I lay down, but soon close his arms around me, squeezing my body. For an answer, he just hums a yes and I know he's trying to get back to sleep, or trying to make his head stop hurting. I smile, lying my head down in the crook of his neck, placing my leg in between his as I snake my arm around his torso so I was lying half on him. He moves his other hand to my waist as he gives my forehead a kiss.

I don't know how long we lay there, but the sound of people heavily walking down the stairs was heard after a while. I open my eyes, looking up at Michael who was still asleep. I sit slightly up, me being proven wrong as Michael pulls me closer again. "My head hurts babe," he whines into my hair.

"I know," I say, feeling something in my stomach that could only mean bad things. "But I need to run to the bathroom... badly." He sighs, letting go as I stand up. I feel a bit dizzy as I almost trip to the side, but I make my way out the room, searching for the bathroom. I had only used the one downstairs, but I don't think I had time for run down there, plus I didn't really trust myself with the stairs right now.

Going out from the bathroom, the door to Calum's door opens, and he slowly closes the door. I feel the tips of my lips curve into a smile. "Got laid, did we?" I laugh, taking a hand through my hair that I realize must look like crap. Calum's eyes turn to mine as he lets out a laugh. He was clearly hungover as well. He had dark bags under his eyes as he sighs.

"Not exactly. I was about to, but then she puked," he tells me, rubbing his eyes. "Oh fuck, my head, I'm surprised it wasn't me." I laugh, walking pass him, not really caring that I was only in Michael's shirt and my underwear. "Got laid yourself, huh?" I turn around to look at him again, as he smirks.

"No." I shake my head. "We're still not there yet." He looks at me for a few seconds, before then shrugging.

"Well, I'll see you eventually," he tells me as he walks pass me to go downstairs. I return to Michael's room, where Michael was now sitting up, having his head between his legs, holding it.

"I'm dying," he tells me. "I think I'm going to die." I decide on not making a comment on it as I make my way to the bed, lying under the blanket again. Michael leans back so his head in on the top of my stomach. I take my hand down, letting my fingers play with his colored hair as I see him close his eyes. "This is really nice." I smile, but don't say anything, he knows that I agree. Although I could easily feel on his hair that it was damaged from dying it so much, it was a nice feeling of having his hair between my fingers.