Hatred // Muke

✎ « ten »

michael woke up the following morning with a head that hurt like hell. how is that even possible, he hadn't been drunk the previous night and one shot of tequila (or maybe two) couldn't hurt that bad right?

well he was apparently wrong because his head was pounding hard and he was sure that he couldn't stand on his two feet. what a great beginning of another (probably shitty) day.

he wasn't even able to open his eyes - no not because of the alcohol just because he has this problem called 'don't you dare to wake me before noon or I'll slap you'.

the light almost blinded his eyes and it was coming through the curtains, and that kind of annoyed michael. he's just really grumpy in the morning.

he just rolled around on the bed wrapped like a real life burrito in his blanket - it looked cute, really.

'michael gordon clifford where are you?!', a voice from downstairs yelled. oh no, that was his mum and he maybe had forgotten to ask her if he could go to the party. he thought since she was barely home that it was logical that he could go. apparently not.

he finally opened his eyes and he felt like there where thousands of little needles that were stinging in his eyes.

'michael get out your bed right now!', his mother yelled, becoming slightly angered. he just grunted and tried to stand up; but he just gave it up and rolled out his bed, his blanket still around his whole body. he just forgot fhe fact that if you fall on the ground with a pillow it kinda hurts.

'michael what are doing?', his mum asked worriedly. 'nothing mum, there's nothing wrong!', michael said reasurring.

he stood up and he walked over to his mirror and he decided that he looked like shit. oh wait, he looks like shit everyday; surprise.

his hair was now a pale green colour so he maybe could dye his hair in a few hours. calum said that pink would be hella cute and it was a colour that michael never had dyed his hair in and maybe he thought that it was kinda cute too.

he stumbled of the stairs and almost tripped over his own feet; being his clumsy self.

'muuuum why did you wake me up at 10am?', michael sighed whilst walking into the kitchen.

'looking good grass', a voice that he knew all too well said behind him. shit.

he turned around and there was luke, just sitting there casually on his chair next to the table - as good-looking as ever compared to michael of course.

'oh you're awake mikey', his mum smiled and handed him a bowl with cornflakes. he went to the table and took a seat next to luke.

'what the hell are you doing here?', he hissed. luke just rolled his eyes and grabbed his phone out of his pocket. 'cal and ash asked me to pick you up because they say that we need to improve our 'relationship'.'

'michael I'm going to leave right now!', his mother yelled. 'bye mum!', he could say before he heard the door slam.

'what's up with your hair?', luke grinned. michael knew that his hair was kind of pale right now and today he could ask calum to come to the hair dye shop with him.

'it's cooler than yours anyway', he just replied and didn't bother to look at him. he was too busy with his iPhone anyway. in contrast to michael, luke had tons of messages like the popular kid he is.

'what are we going to do today?', michael asked. 'excuse me, did you say we like the two of us? because that's not going to happen', luke chuckled ironically. 'okay', michael shrugged. maybe he was kind of hurt because luke has insulted him at least one hundred times now and even if you ignore it you still hear it.

'well what are the four of us going to do today?', michael tried again. 'well ash and cal are so excited for that band shit so they kind of wanted to meet at ashton's house in exact', luke looked at the clock on his phone, 'twenty minutes. what means you can try to look slightly better than you look now', he fake smiled.

michael ignored him and placed his now empty bowl on the countertop, next to his mom's bowl. then he walked upstairs to his room and looked in his closet. there were only a few things in his closet because his mum probably forgot to do the laundry. so he had to choose between his red flanel shirt or his black; an extremely difficult task.

he picked both out of his closet and held them for him in front of them mirror. the black shirt, definitely the black one.

'pick the red one', a voice suddenly said, causing michael to scream not so very manly. there was luke, standing casually against the door frame; being as quiet as a mouse. 'what the hell luke! you scared the hell out of me!', michael said angry. luke just rolled his eyes for the tenth time that day.

and when michael picked the red flanel shirt, it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that luke thought it looked better on him.

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in which colour do I need to dye michael's hair??

cute ot4 date next :-)

feedback is appreciated!

x Julie