Want You Back

28.

I really would've been content to just lay in bed all day and let the world pass by.

Unfortunately for me, the universe was not so keen on giving me a break nowadays.

There was an insistent knocking at my front door, which confused and irritated me. Usually, I get a buzz from security about guests, but apparently this individual found a way to bypass that.

I plopped a pillow over my face, hoping to drown out the annoying knocking that didn't seem to go away. If anything it got louder. When the knocking didn't cease, I had finally had enough

Stalking to the front door and whipping it open, I practically snarled "what?"

My eyes instantly widened upon seeing who was at the door. I really should've checked the peephole first.

Michael smiled at my obvious attitude and offered in return a simple, "hey Jazz."

I stood there, motionless for a few seconds until it finally registered in my brain that Micahel Clifford was indeed, at my front door. I made to close it but he easily caught the door, pushing it wider so he could see my face.

"I just want to talk." He said quietly as if he were calming a frightened animal.

I licked my lips and nodded, opening the door for him, letting him in. "Make yourself at home."

"Thanks."

I shut the door behind him and stood awkwardly beside it, not sure how to proceed. Meanwhile, Michael took his time taking in my apartment, picking up the various picture frames and examining them.

"What're you doing here?" I finally caved and asked.

He smiled and set down the frame he'd been looking at and turned to face me. "You wouldn't speak to me over the phone, so I figured I'd have to come to you."

"You know most people would take that as a hint that they want to be left alone."

He shrugged. "Guess I'm not like most people."

I smiled at that. "Indeed you are not."

I moved to the couch then, curling up on one of the ends and hugging a pillow to my chest. I gestured for him to sit and he did so, on the opposite side of me.

"What did you want to talk about?"

"Jazz, please. You've known me for almost seven years. I hate this, this tension between us. I want to be friends again." He said, sounding almost desperate. "I miss you."

"We haven't been friends for three years, Michael."

"You've been my friend since the moment Liam introduced us."

I smiled at the memory. "And Harry kept calling me that stupid name."

"Flower," Michael supplied, smiling.

I shook my head, as the smile faded. "I always hated when he called me that."

"You know, I wrote 'End Up Here' that night."

"What?"

He nodded, twisting around to face me, legs now propped up on the couch in front of him.

"You walked in, everyone was asking for your name. You just smiled and told them "trouble". My head spins, I'm pressed against the wall just watching your every move, you're way too cool and you're coming this way, coming this way. How did we end up talking in the first place? You said you liked my Cobain shirt, now we're walking back to your place..." He sang quietly.