wasting time » lh ; mc

twelve

:: 12 ::

Before he was aware of what was happening, Michael could feel his chest heaving and his unfocused eyes caught Calum running out of the locker room, leaving him sitting on the floor.

"Hey, Michael," he heard Luke say softly. "What happened?"

"We—I made us lose," Michael managed. It only made him bury his head in his hands, rubbing the heel of them roughly against his eyes. He's never experienced this before—sure, he gets into moods for a few days after he doesn't perform to his standards, but there was a lump in his throat and it felt like fire in his lungs.

During the game, he was shaking. He thought it was only from the adrenaline, but everything made sense now. Why he was thinking more than usual, why those thoughts were scattered.

Luke moved to sit next to Michael, attempting to put a comforting arm around the boys shoulder. Michael flinched.

There's never been a situation where Luke has seen Michael so vulnerable and disheveled. The boy was determined and talented, Luke just never knew the depth or the reason he expected so much out of himself. He had a feeling he'd learn soon.

"You did fine," Luke told Michael, honesty held in his tone. "And, everyone has bad days."

"Not me."

"Yes, even you." There was a choked sound that Michael made. Luke listened with a tight chest. "It's okay, though. It is, Mikey."

"Stop! Stop telling me that it's okay!"

"I think we should go home," Luke whispers carefully. "Your dad is probably looking for you." He's never dealt with a panic or anxiety attack before. Luke has gotten sad before, he's freaked out, never panicked. But, he's trying his best to calm Michael down. One method does not work for everyone, and he's learning that.

"Do you know what calms you down when you're having an attack?" he wondered.

"I've—I've never had one before."

"Oh."

"I'm so stupid," Michael cried. "So weak and so stupid."

"You are not."

"Can we just leave? I don't want to be here."

It was as if Michael was a completely different soul. He's never quiet, he's never sounded so broken, lost, or defeated. But, Luke had a feeling this wasn't only because of the game tonight. If Michael has never been this distraught over a loss before, why would he be now?

Calum, who stood to the side watching the two, moved to open the door. "I'll go tell Coach that you're changing."

Michael barely mustered up a nod. He slowly stood from the floor and asked Luke hesitantly, "Can you turn around?"

Of course, he did. It was so odd to be in a situation like this, Luke felt like crying just from seeing Michael cry. Luke could hear him start sniffling and getting frustrated with himself even when he was getting dressed, working himself up again but now for a completely different thing.

"You can turn back around, I guess," he heard Michael say. When he did, Luke saw the hockey player with exhausted eyes.

"Can I ask a question?" Michael nodded, and Luke continued, "Was this because of the game?"

"That might've been the trigger," Michael sighed. He ran his hands over his face to try and get rid of the stinging in his eyes. "It started in the middle of the game."

"So why are you blaming yourself?"

"I let it happen."

"There's no way you could've prevented this," Luke explained. "You can't control something you don't know how to."

Instead of saying anything, Michael shook his head and started for the locker room door. Before he gripped the handle, his eyes flickered between Luke's and the tiles of the floor. "Please don't tell anyone about what happened," he begged.

"I don't have anyone to tell."

"That girl you were with in the stands, and your dad, and, I just—"

Luke stopped him, going to place a hand on his shoulder but remembered what happened before, and instead looking at him with soft eyes. "Hey, I won't tell Penelope or my dad, I promise."

"You're a really good guy, you know?" Michael let a faint smile grace his lips. And then, it left. His eyes stayed focused on the floor and he opened the door quickly before he could cry again. "I don't know why anyone would ever use you." So guilty. He's so guilty now, but he can't tell Luke. He would lose everything. The chance of the rugby team, the chance of getting into a Junior A team. He'd lose Luke.

Maybe Michael deserved to have this happen to him today. It was a sign that he's an asshole who only thinks about himself. Even Calum called him out on that today, and it hurt, but not as much as realizing just how low he had gone to get what he wanted.

"Some people are just that desperate, I guess," Luke shrugged with a sad smile. He and Michael finally walked out of the locker room, meeting Coach Clifford and Calum just outside of it.

"You alright, Michael?" His dad asked, receiving a short nod. When his son rushed past him and muttered that he'd be waiting at the car, Coach shot Luke a worried glance.

"He's just upset we lost again," Luke lied. It was way more than that, he knew, and he wanted to figure it out. But, for now, Michael had to be given more time to calm down. He seemed freaked out about the whole thing—embarrassed that it had happened, even.

And he was. The whole ride home, with Calum sitting quietly in the back seat, Michael's dad was asking questions, concerned about why he was quieter than what he usually is after a losing game. There was nothing Michael could answer with. He just didn't know how to feel, especially after acting so stupid and over dramatic afterwards. There were tear stains down his cheeks that made his face feel sticky. He had to keep telling himself the same line over and over, just like talking to the principal.

I'm Michael Clifford; I don't cry. I am not weak.

Michael cried a lot that night.

• • •

(short short SHORT but happy bday 2 my fave person on earth mikey clif bar!!!!)

within a day of me publishing the last chapter saying that we hit 4k, this book got another thousand reads. now, it's up two thousand. fivesecondsofsheeran is a literal angel and i appreciate that everyone is enjoying this