calum --
sorry about your shirt
don't be
but i ruined it
it's called a washing machine
you're so nice to me mikey
shut up callie u don't want people thinking we're a thing
but nobody can hear us we r writing
exactly
michael sends me a dumb smile before standing up from the couch, the same couch he's been crashing on for the last few days. since everything that's been happening with luke, i don't think i could bear this week alone.
"you're gonna have to talk to him at some point," he says as i follow him to the kitchen. he walks backwards so i can see his mouth. "i mean, not any time soon, but eventually."
i wipe the whiteboard with my jumper sleeve, scowling at him.
don't u have school??
he shrugs when i show it to him. "yeah, but it's all bullshit anyway."
i raise an eyebrow. i'm pretty sure a proper education isn't bullshit.
how is going to school bullshit michael
"because it is, cal! what the fuck do I need calculus for if i want to be a musician?"
i narrow my brows in consideration.
but what if it doesn't work out? then what?
he shrugs again. i don't get how he can be so nonchalant about his education and career. "then i'll finish school. but i'm just dropping out for now."
i lean against the counter in my small kitchen, watching michael talk to himself as he makes us sandwiches. i didn't even ask for one.
"you like peanut butter and jelly, right?" he asks, my eyes watching his red lips intently. they're always just as captivating as his eyes, and it's so unfair to have more than one outstanding feature on a face, and i find myself staring for a while before he claps in front of my eyes and startles me from my daydream.
"hello? earth to callie?"
sorry what
he laughs, and a rock sinks in my stomach. he's so pretty when he laughs, with his eyes closed and his hands over his mouth and his nose scrunched like a grumpy kitten's, and i almost start staring excessively again when he recovers and tugs my ill-fitting t-shirt down on his body. his was ruined, by my tears, so it was in the wash as well as his jeans, currently replaced by my sister's sweatpants.
michael hands me a sandwich, and we return to the living room, sitting on the floor with our backs against the sofa.
michael holds his sandwich between his teeth, taking the whiteboard in his hands and scribbling on it before handing it back to me.
khloe wants 2 hang out today
oh
do you want 2 come?
no its okay
your coming callie
but i dont want to
why? dont you like khloe?
of course! i think im getting sick
sick of lying and heartbreak, anyway.
a/n: double update tonight :)
