Sweaters || Malum

Chapter 9

Song for chapter: Better Off Dead by Sleeping With Sirens

--

In band Monday, I struggled to play my saxophone. The cuts on my right arm were painfully pressing against the metal. I put my instrument away and suddenly feel someone's presence in a close proximity. I turn to see Michael smiling broadly at me. "I-I wanted to know if you would l-like to hang out?" He stumbles over his words, the smile on his face not fading. I noticed his fingers moving nervously and my heart skipped a beat.

He was too damn cute.

"Of course I would, Mikey." I agree. He gently place his hand on my arm and drags it down. I bite my lip in pain as his fingers gently go across the cuts. Back up. Down.

I move my arm away and look at him and he looked embarrassed, avoiding my gaze. Why do I mess everything up? My arm was stinging as I place my hand on his shoulder. "You are way too adorable for your own good." I whisper and he looks at me happily.

"S-So maybe we c-could go to my house? I-I mean, it n-not amazing but i-it's still a p-place to hang out." He awkwardly suggests, putting his sleeve-covered hand to his mouth.

I smile gently and reply, "Yeah sure."

The bell rings and I am quick to put away my saxophone. "Bus or are we walking?" I ask him.

He responds; "I l-live pretty close s-so I guess it is y-your choice. It is about a m-mile."

I nod and we go out the back auditorium door, similar to what I do when I leave band, and we walk across the front lawn and across the street. I go right, like I usually do on the way to my house. I don't bother texting or calling my father to tell him where I was going. He didn't care.

But I was probably going to regret that.

No words were exchanged as we walk down a small street that was located across the street, as he told me. We go inside of a small, light blue house. There was a small staircase leading to the front door and he unlocked the dark red door and went inside.

It was nicely furnished, and there were many pictures of him and his family up on the wall. "Do you have any siblings?" I question, only seeing pictures of him.

"N-No. Kind of l-lonely I guess, b-but it's okay." He smiles. "My r-room is upstairs. I-If you w-want to go to m-my room and a-all." He stutters a lot. 

"Sure, I guess." I smile.

Why was it so warm in here?

Michael takes off his dark green sweater that he was wearing when we enter his room. He goes over to his closet and puts it on a hanger that was hanging on a hook on the outside of the door.

"Your room's nice." I say to him. It was small, but I didn't mind.

Not everyone is as fortunate as I am. He gives me a smile and he sits down. "I-I was thinking of d-dyeing my hair. I-Is that a good idea?" He questions me, his smile fading and replacing it was a look of worry.

"You'd look good no matter what." I answer, sitting down on the bed next to him. Me and him look at each other for a moment and I was tempted to lean in.

But I didn't.

I think he was expecting me to. "It's so h-hot in here." He says stiffly, getting up from the bed. I frown and my heart drops to my stomach.

"Yeah it is." I agree nonchalantly.

"M-My parents p-prefer keeping the house relatively w-warm." He explains. I nod and he continues, "Aren't y-you sweating in that or?"

I shake my head and give him a shrug, looking him dead in the eye. I keep a serious expression on my face and I say, "My sweatshirt is comfortable."

"It's warm, though. I-It's not g-good to keep your sweatshirt on when it's s-so warm." He tells me. I think he knew something. Or he is assuming shit. And that worried me.

"Drop it." I snap, sick of people. I probably act suspicious when it came to never taking off my sweatshirt, or covering up my arms even in the hotter seasons. People just be getting curious. But even with that, they don't need to question me about it all the time. So I continue, "I don't need to be fucking questioned all the time! Some people should just wear a fucking sweatshirt and not be criticized for that!"

Michael looked bewildered as he stared at me for my sudden outburst. I immediately felt bad for snapping at him for no good reason.

This is why people don't like you, Calum.

You scared him.

Arsehole.

You should have jumped off that bridge.

I push away my thoughts and I stand up to go near him. "M-Maybe this was a mistake. I-I think y-you should go home for a b-bit and calm d-down?" He suggests. But I knew it wasn't a question or really a choice. He was kicking me out of his home.

I nod and go downstairs in a rush, tears beginning to fill my eyes. I grab my bag that I left my his front door and exit his house quickly. I look down as the warm air hits my face. I look down, taking deep breaths. I mess so many things up. Out of anything I could have ever failed at, I decided to fuck up my chance with Michael.

Maybe I was never destined to be happy.

I continue looking down as I watch my tears fall onto the pavement. Meaningless tears.

I finally get home and I go inside and slam the door. The loud sound echoes throughout the house because nobody was home. I quickly go upstairs to my parent's bathroom. I open up multiple cabinets and finally find what I was looking for: Ambien. They were my Mum's sleeping pills because she has insomnia. I open another drawer and find my father's Xanax.

Both pill bottles were recently filled.

I go to my room and put them on my bed. I go back downstairs with tears in my eyes and open the fridge and pull out a couple water bottles.

My mind was fogged and my vision was once again blurry.

I am such a failure. Such a waste.

I open the pill bottles and pour the pills onto my desk. Tears roll down my cheeks and I open the first water bottle. I look at the pile of lined paper and to the pens on my desk. I shouldn't. I won't.

They will look at my arms and know why I did this.

Before I could even put the first pill in my mouth I break down in tears and I start to hyperventilate. I want to do this, but at the same time; what comes after? What will become of me if I do this? Besides, if this doesn't work:

I'd lose everything.