Michael sucked at cooking.
We sat in front of his tiny television, eating microwave macaroni and cheese that he had bought with some money he borrowed off of his friends. A bag of popcorn sat in between our laps as we watched a reality show.
Michael was talking about his band today. With one sweaty hand in mine, and the other clutching a plastic fork which he waved around as he spoke. A plastic fan was propped up in one of the tiny windows of his small apartment.
He was talking about how he knew they were going to get big one day. And how I would have to come to their next practice. I agreed.
It was two days later, when we were in his friend Ashton's damp smelling basement.
Ashton, a tall guy with crazy hair was seated on a small stool, in front of his beat up drum set. We were waiting for the rest of the band to get there.
Ashton's basement didn't have air conditioning. Or windows. It was unbearably hot.
Michael and Ashton were talking about something that I wasn't quite paying attention too, until Ashton pulled out a bowl.
"Have you ever smoked , Calla?" Michael asks, a smirk on his face. I shook my head no. It was so weird hearing him say my name. "You'll like it."
I wondered if this was usually what they did at band practice.
Ashton lit up, and passed the clear bowl to Michael.
Then, a guy with dark skin came in.
"Calum!" Ashton cheers, welcoming the bassist in. "You're just in time."
Michael passed the bowl to me.
"How do I do it?" I question,my cheeks red. I seriously had no idea.
"Okay, so like, put your finger over the hole. Kinda like that." He places my pointer finger over a small hole I hadn't even noticed. "Then, I'll light it for you."
I nod.
"Then, breathe in. And hold it. And then breathe it in again. Did that make sense?" Even thought it didn't, I nodded.
"Hurry up, Michael's girlfriend." Calum says, and then he and Ashton start laughing as if he said something funny.
I did as Michael told me, finally getting the hold of it, and breathing in the sour tasting smoke. Before I could do anything else, my throat burned, and I started coughing.
"Oh my god." I cough out, but Michael had already moved on.
The final member of the band arrived, a lanky blonde guy with red eyes, and they passed around the bowl a few more times.
They started playing a few more minutes. Something loud with lots of drums. It hurt my ears, but it didn't matter. I could barely even pay attention.
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12 Months//michael clifford short story
FanfictionI thought that love was staying up all night with him drinking shitty black coffee and talking about what we were going to do once we had the money. Love was wishing he wouldn't come back to our shitty apartment, at least for one more night. Love wa...
