violet skies / michael clifford

"you don't smoke"

16. do you care about her, michael?

Everyone has had that shitty day when everything goes wrong. For me, today is that day. I've managed to fuck it all up before noon.

My guitar is dented, I've got a coffee stain on the only clean t-shirt I have left, and my hair won't cooperate. It's standing at all angles possible. And it only goes downhill from there. I'm in a terrible mood, which has me late for band practice.

"Hey, you alright?" Calum says when I finally get there.

"Alright let's begin," Ashton says from behind the drums. He's annoyingly chirpy, and I roll my eyes just at the sound of his voice.

"Whatever," I mumble. I'm really not in the mood to chat.

Instead, I let my angst rage through vocals and chords; I've broken three strings within the first hour. It sounds terrible.

Standing up, Ashton pushes his hair out of his face. It's not straightened today. For once, he looks like he's part of the band. The style advice Luke has been giving him seems to have worked. "Anyone fancy going on a food round?"

Luke nods, "I'll come with. I'm hangry."

Calum throws a tenner in Luke's direction, "Get us all of the nuggets, sweetcheeks. Keep the change, filthy animal."

He gets a weird look from Ashton. He's probably not used to people calling each other names like that. Pretty boy will be corrupted soon enough.

"Haven't had this amount of money in a long time," says Luke, who's managed to catch the note in the air. He holds it up and waves it around. "Anything else? Michael?"

"A Mc-fuck-off?" I have less than a pound to my name. I'll just take some off of Calum anyway.

Luke gives me a glare, and I guess I deserve that. "Salty bitch."

The two exit the garage, leaving me and Calum to sit in silence. My eyes are glued to the floor.

"You alright, buddy?" Calum asks.

"Nope," I say. When I lift my eyes, I see him looking at me with concern. Nothing new. He worries too much.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Not really."

"You sure?"

I'm not sure about anything anymore. I don't want to talk about it, but I do feel the need to put my confusion into words. Whatever I do, she's constantly there at the back of my mind. After a moment of silence, it slips from my lips, "What does love feel like?"

"What?"

"Come on, you've had girlfriends. What's it feel like?"

"Not sure," Calum says, putting his bass down. "It's a nice, warm feeling, I suppose? When you find out, please let me know."

"I'm scared."

"Of what?"

"Getting turned down, I guess." I shrug. "Looking like an idiot. Fucking things up."

"You already do look like an idiot. You keep drunk texting her."

"Doesn't mean anything. Why are you assuming this is about Jessa?"

"It's pretty obvious, mate," he says, his lips stretching into a smile. "Also, you've been checking your phone every two seconds to see if she's texted you. But her phone's at the flat, so she's not gonna be able to reply, I'm afraid."

"Oh."

"You'll be okay." Calum pats my shoulder. "She's coming over soon to help us with the new band photos. Ashton asked her to do it, and she said yes."