Terrible Things || muke || malum

heartless at best

Michael clutched the glossy pamphlet in his sweaty hand, stuffing it in the pocket of his leather jacket. He opened the door to the run down, red brick recreational center and let the inside cool air engulf him. He pressed on through the hallway, stopping when he met an open room. He stood in the entrance, eyes scanning up the white markerboard sign about four feet in the door. It read Support for the Loved Ones of Cancer Victims. Meetings held weekdays from 5-8 p.m. 

The six or so people seated in blue chairs seemed like a diverse enough group, with an old woman discussing something with a younger man. Michael checked the time on his phone -- 4:55. He looked at the three empty seats: one by a man with a white shirt that may have been a few sized too small, with weird stains splotched around. Another was buy a small woman who couldn't have been older than thirty. He might've taken that seat, had the woman not been crying her dull, grey eyes out. Michael couldn't even handle his own tears. He couldn't afford to have to talk to someone else's about their own. The final seat was beside a boy around Michael's age, with black hair and blonde highlights. He looked worried -- his eyebrows furrowed in concentration at the floor. He had white ear phones in, so he probably wouldn't want to talk. That sounded perfect to the red haired boy.

Michael took the seat, his seat neighbor not even bothering to glance his way. That was perfectly okay with Michael. He folded his small hands together, not necessarily thrilled to be here. Michael spent the past two days looking at the letters he opened and trying to find the strength within himself to actually listen to his dead lover. The idea still sounded so absurd -- Michael finding someone else to share his life with. Finding someone he might love a little bit more than Luke. That wasn't possible to the green eyed boy.

"What a lovely Monday we have upon us. I trust everyone had a good weekend?" A small man with glasses and a wide grin spoke up. He had on a green sweater vest and tan khaki pants. His white tube socks were particularly unnatractive and the black haired boy next to Michael must've noticed, becuase the grimace on his face was now replaced with a gentle smile. He removed his ear buds and listened to the man.

There were incoherent answers. More like grunts, but tube sock guy smiled anyway. "Good, good. For our new guests," He stared directly at Michael and his seat neighbor, "My name is Doctor Tucker, but I'd prefer to be called Warren. A first name basis just feels more personal." 

Michael barely nodded, just to acknowledge what Warren was saying. "I say we play a name game. How about we say our names and why we're here?" Warren stood and if possible, his smile was wider, "My name is Warren and I'm here because my wife had pancreatic cancer." He sat and waved to the person to his left; the man with the greasy white t shirt. Michael counted and there were three  people ahead of him, including the raven haired boy.

"My name is Mitch and I'm here because my father has liver cancer. He's supposed to die soon and my mom's been gone for a while. I'm just looking for some help."  

They skipped the empty seat in between Mitch and the crying woman. She stood, her tiny legs shaking. "My name is Riley and my husband has lung cancer. The meds a-aren't working an-and we have three ch-children. I don't know what to do a-anymore." She took her seat and Michael's eyes softened. He felt bad for the woman.

The boy to his left stood and he flicked his black hair out of his eyes. "My name is Calum and my sister Mali has stage four breast cancer." His dark eyes glanced around the circle, but didn't land on Michael.

Michael wiped the sweat off of his hands and onto his pants and stood, (kind of) ready to talk about Luke. He cleared his throat. "My name is Michael and my boyfriend died three weeks ago of terminal brain cancer." Warren shook his head, facing the floor. 

"I'm so sorry for your loss, Michael. But you're among friends now. Know that you can tell us anything." Michael nodded, even though he found that sentence a little untrue. He sat down and looked at the people around him. None of them knew his name until ten seconds ago. How could they be his friends? 

He leaned back in his seat, zoning out of the next two people. What are they even going to do at these meetings? Just talk about their loved ones? That sounded a bit painful to Michael, honestly.

Warren's shrill voice interrupted Michael from his thoughts. "I would like everyone to pair up right now. With your partner, I want you to talk about how you're handling your situation, what it feels like to be where you are. Talk about something that you could maybe do to help yourself." He clapped his hands and turned to Mitch. 

Michael watched as everyone had partners and was brought back to a time in high school when the only person that wanted Michael as a partner was Luke. Now that he wasn't here, he felt lost. (A lot worse than doing a project in chemistry with the weird kid who collects his toenails).

Michael felt a tap on his shoulder and turned, eyes finally meeting the boy with the dark hair. His eyes matched his hair -- and his shirt, his pants and shoes.

"Partners?" His voice was a little rugged, but it suited him.

Michael shrugged, turning his chair to face him. Calum followed his actions. 

"How are you handling your situation?" Calum asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Michael scoffed. "I'm not. You?"

"Well she's come to the point where she's writing her will up and organizing all her affairs. And she's only 23. I mean, you're supposed to do that shit when you're old. I don't want to help her, because that would be like me acknowledging the fact that my sister is going to die. Accepting it, really."

"So you're not handling it either." Michael summed up.

"Not at all."

"I'm sorry. About Mali." 

Calum bit his lip. "I'm sorry about your boyfriend."

"Luke."

"How long had you two been together?" Calum asked.

"About a year." Michael said. Talking about Luke was like a swirl of feelings he never wanted. He was sad and angry and so alone. But through all the negativity, he felt happy. Luke made him happy, no matter if he was breathing or cold as stone. He loved thinking about the blonde; about his eyes and his smile, his voice and how caring he was. How much he loved Michael. (He especially liked thinking about that part).

A silence rested between the two like dust. Calum didn't know what to say, nor did Michael because Calum's sister is so close to death and Luke was already there. Already gone. Calum couldn't help but wonder what he would do when Mali died. Their parents died when they were so young and though Mali wasn't that much older, she was like a mother figure. If Calum felt this bad while she was still alive, he could only imagine the depth of the depression he would go into. Without his sister, his best friend.

"What are some things you can do to handle this better?" Michael said, breaking the silence.

"Not act like an oblivious asshole. You?"

"Not act like an asshole in general."

"I don't think you're an asshole."

"I don't think you are either. But what if we both are assholes and we don't think we are only because this is normal for us." Michael said.

"Then we would be a pair of oblivious assholes."

--

Heartless At Best - New Found Glory

sorry there's no lyrics siGH

1340 WORDS SUCK MY DICK

so calum has been introduced what do you think hmmmm

ilysm 

-mom