Tattoo || m.c.

30

Michael woke up, his hand lying across the naked body of a girl.

Oh god, this wasn't Mars.

He yelped and quickly stood up. His head hurt like he just slammed it against a concrete wall but his mind was blaring at how stupid he was. He quickly put his clothes on and stepped out the door of the room.

Mars probably knows. The entire town probably knows. I'm such a screw-up.

He checked his phone as he quickly leaped into his car, taking a deep breath.

Mars: I hate you so much, Michael Clifford.

His breath caught in his throat as he read the text, each word piercing his heart. He looked around anxiously. He couldn't lose her. A plan started to form in his mind as he turned on the ignition and zoomed out of the driveway.

Pulling up to Mars' house, Michael hoped she was in her room. He just had to figure out how to climb the side of her house and to her window. There was no tree so the cheesy movie scene plummeted. Michael looked around the neighborhood looking for some sort of rope or maybe- a ladder. There, the shiny metal was propped up against the house across the street, it could barely be seen in the early sunrise but his eye caught it. The pink haired boy ran over to it and sneakily grabbed it before running back and propping it up.

Michael quietly knocked on her window, waiting for her to wake up. She quickly woke up and grabbed her pillow to throw it. He knocked again and she turned to him. Mars' eyes were red and puffy, her body wrapped in a blanket, her hair in a messy bun that looked perfect on her. She frowned before flipping him off and going back into her bed.

Michael groaned silently and knocked again and again and again until she finally got annoyed and opened the damn window.

"What do you want Michael?" She hissed as she sat up, quickly grabbing a bag of chips.

"I'm so sorry. I was drunk and sad because you were angry with me. I'm so fucking stupid and I screwed everything up. Just, please, please, forgive me," He pleaded as he sat next to her and her food on the bed.

She laughed quietly, "I wasn't mad at you."

"What are you talking about? Yes, you were." He stated, confused. There was no doubt she was mad at him before. She didn't want to hang out with him and yelled at him through the phone.

She gestured around the room, Michael's eyes searching.

Chips, chocolate, Netflix's logo was seen on the screen, and he finally landed on the trash can. Wrappers were able to barely be seen but he could still pick them out. He groaned and put his head in his hands.

"Oh god, you're on your period," He gave a small frown, "You were on your period and I went out and hooked up with some girl. I hate myself. I hate myself so much."

"Please don't," She squeaked, locking her hand onto his, "I just need time to sort my feelings about this. Don't hate yourself though. I understand that you can't really control what you do when you're drunk but at the same time you can control your thoughts. I think you should go for now, until I can understand what to do with....this." She gestured between us.

He frowned before quickly nuzzling his head into her neck, squeezing her tight.

"I'm so sorry, Mars," He whispered before placing a small kiss on her shoulder.

"I know you are, Michael," She whispered back before pulling apart and pulling the window open wider and lying back down on the bed.