Words (Muke)

Twenty-One: Drunken Secrets

"There are no secrets that time does not reveal,"

~Jean Racine

Michael's phone went off at three AM for the second time and he groaned, but after seeing Calum's name flashing across the screen he grew more alert. Calum hated phone calls. he texted or talked to you in-person. He never answered his phone or called anyone.

"Yeah?" Michael grumbled rubbing his eyes.

"Hey Mikey!"

Michael could hear the beat of some terrible music playing in the background.

"Cal? Where are you?"

"I'm at a club!" Calum explained. Michael could have guessed that much on his own. "'S not fun, anymore,"

"Why are you at a club, Calum?"

"Wanted ta get drunk, Mikey!" Calum explained. "Can you come 'n' take me home? I wanna go home, Mikey,"

"Yeah. Yeah I'll come. What club are you at Cal?"

"I dunno. Somethin' day? Night 'n' day? I dunno, Mikey,"

"Alright, I'm coming,"

"Please hurry," Calum begged finally sobbing. "I wanna go home,"

"Just hang on a little while. I'm coming,"

"Don't bring, Luke. He'll be angry. And I'm sorry for being drunk. You know 'cause your dad," Calum was sobbing again and Michael winced.

"It's alright Cal. I'm coming, just me,"

"Thanks, Mikey,"

Calum hung up then and Michael stumbled out of bed and wriggled into black skinny jeans stuffing his phone into his back pocket and pulling Luke's sweater over his head. He placed Robert in Luke's arms in place of himself and shoved his socked feet into his beaten up converse. He trudged downstairs and headed out to the club he thought Calum was at.

He wondered why Calum had wanted to get wasted in the first place. Maybe he wanted to forget. But them he was thinking about his dad and it was eating away at him. He was tired and not in the mood to think about his dad. He didn't want to be thinking about anything. Not that early.

His shoes pounded the sidewalk and he walked on only his hair and pale skin visible to others. Pros of wearing all black, he thought bitterly. He didn't like wearing colour. It made him look approachable and normal. So he dressed in black to ward others off, but he loved dying his hair random colours.

Michael walked and walked and just as he was beginning to think he was lost he caught the vibrations coming from the music at the club.

"Oh Calum," he sighed, "What did you get yourself into?"

after a few more yards he could hear the music and at the street corner the place came into view. It was exotic to say the least. Coloured lights could be seen flashing through the windows and the door was continuously as people headed in looking for a good time or stumbled out drunk beyond belief sometimes attached to someone else at the lips. A few drunken girls made their way over to him and one attempted to kiss him, but Michael easily dodged them all, leaving them dazed and confused.

After minutes of pointless searching Michael was nearly ready to delve into the club himself when he saw the figure sitting against the wall a little ways down. He could tell the boy was crying from the way his shoulders shook and how his chest heaved. Michael had been there too many times to count.

"Cal! Calum!" Michael called out fighting through people to get to him.

The boy looked up in recognition of the word and that was all the confirmation Michael needed. He burst through the group of people and was at the drunken boy's side in seconds. Part of him was terrified. His experiences with drunk people were not exactly good. But this was Calum. Good, light-hearted, joy-filled Calum. So why was he crying?