Mirrors | Malum

43

Calum

I wanted to run away. I had always thought about it when I was younger - the adrenaline pumping through my veins as I held one bag in one hand and somebody else in the other. But I never had anyone to tell that to, until Michael came along.

We were in a cabin, somewhere near a lake. According to Michael, he rented it out and made some sort of weird deal with one of the owners. I hoped that it didn't involve smoking cigarettes or drinking alcohol, as I do remember the first time we sat in the parking lot and I threw his box of matches into the bushes which he never bothered to retrieve. I guess I was more important than that, and it means more than he could ever imagine.

Michael was asleep, completely knocked out on a twin mattress that wasn't big enough for the two of us unless we decided to cuddle. I was fine with it, and I laid in his arms for hours until I began to grow uncomfortable. It wasn't that I didn't like being in his arms, only more of the fact that I couldn't sleep. And whenever I can't sleep, I walk away.

It's something I never bothered telling anybody. My parents never knew that I spent most of my nights sneaking out of my window, despite the distance from the ground to my bedroom. There was always a ladder I could climb, but I preferred to jump. I didn't care about dying, anyway.

Well I didn't care about death until Michael came along. I've spent most of my life planning out my suicide - thinking of ways I could just end it all without causing anyone around me harm, but my boyfriend taught me it wasn't necessary. He makes me feel alive, like I was meant to be breathing in this cruel world. It's dangerous, hopeless and a terrible place overall, but Michael makes every bad thing disappear. And he has yet to find that out, after months of knowing on another.

I walked back to the lake and took a seat on the edge of the wooden deck, dangling my bare feet into the grimy water. I used to be against germs, but I've come to accept them. The only translucent thing I could see was Michael sleeping soundly in the rented out, deleterious bed, his arms holding thin air. I felt bad, of course, leaving him stranded inside of the cabin to rest peacefully, but he didn't deserve it. He could freak out when he wakes up for all I know.

I needed time to breathe on my own without somebody questioning me for it - which is exactly why I was sitting six feet under the stars, next to the canoe that Michael and I rode in last night, on top of the uncomfortable deck that was somehow more cozy than the indoor mattress, and I just thought about life and how it can do some pretty terrible things. I've been hurt plenty of times before, and I hated the fact that I grew so attached to somebody who may end up leaving me in the future.

At the moment, Michael seems like leaving me is far from being one of his options, but that's because it's the present. He doesn't entirely know what he's getting him into because I'm a mess. I'm this beautiful disaster that isn't really beautiful but is perceived to be. Yet somehow, after pointing out thousands of flaws within me that could take seconds to find, Michael still finds me impeccably and insanely perfect. And it doesn't make any sense to me to this day, but I won't question him on it. He seems to know what he's talking about.

I found myself wanting to cry over the bad things, but instead, I began smiling, thinking about how I've been gifted with good things, with Michael Clifford. And having Michael is something everyone would ask for, even if he denies it, because he's the best damn thing that's ever happened to me. I'm the shadow to his light and he still believes I guide him away from the darkness. I can already tell we're meant for each other, and I'm forever grateful for it.

I was so caught up in my mind that I didn't realize Michael's hand was resting on my right shoulder, and while it would have originally startled me, it didn't. I just found his touch that comforting, because he sparked something inside of me that I definitely didn't have before.