eighteen » l.h

50.

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the twitter: @/chirpymichael

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"I honestly think it's fucked up for you to pack up all of your things while he's gone."

"You were the one telling me that I should just move out!"

"I didn't think you would actually do it!"

"I hate you."

"And I hate you but does your hate for me effect me in any way?" Michael slid one of the many cardboard boxes with his foot, the items inside of the box rattling. "No, so shut the fuck-"

"You are so incredibly rude, Michael." I cut him off, grabbing the clothes that belonged to me from the closet.

It felt weird, moving all of these things out and packing them up when just about a year ago, I was situating them where they were needed. But it wasn't only that.

I was packing up every single memory that I made and/or had with Calum.

I was packing up absolutely everything.

"So how was the date?" He changed the topic and I smiled, pulling the hanger out of my shirt.

"It wasn't a date," I rolled my eyes but didn't remove the smile that was currently in the making. "But it was nice."

"No fucking way." He drops the box he was holding onto the floor, my shoes hitting the inside of the box.

"What?"

"You guys fucked didn't you?" He said, his lips forming into a wicked smirk.

"No! Michael, why would you - we - fuck you." I felt my cheeks warm up. I threw my hands up in the air with frustration and ran my fingers through my hair.

"I'm gay, I'm sorry."

"You're gay?" A voice said from the bedroom door, causing both Michael and I to face the person.

"Why was I not aware of this?" Ashton asked, stepping inside of the room with a perplexed expression on his face.

"I was - I was g-going to tell you." Michael's cheeks slowly start flush, his eyes growing wide and his words becoming a jumbled mess. 

"Dude, it's okay. I'm just messing with you." Ashton walked over to him and patted his back lightly, his eyes gleaming as Ashton flashed him a small smile. 

No fucking way. 

"Anyways, I'll be moving all of the boxes into my car, alright?" I nodded and watched him in silence as he bent down to pick up on of the taped boxes. I watched Michael, seeing his mouth practically drool over the sight of Ashton's back muscles protrude through his shirt. 

As soon as I heard the front door close from downstairs I threw the article of clothing that I had in my hand at Michael, startling him from his apparent daydream. I wiggled my eyebrows at him and sent a smirk over his way, seeing his face become even more red than his dyed hair. 

"Please, Estelle. Don't tell anyone." He begged me, dropping to to his knees and clasping his hands in front of him as if he were praying.