Your Name's Tattooed

Chapter Eleven

For the next two months, the name on my wrist taunts me. As soon as Aspen and Jamie found out (Michael having told them the day of,) they insisted on flying back from Colorado to Minnesota just to "beat the shit" out of Calum. As the months progressed, I retreated back into my bubble, the only people I talked to being Michael, Aspen, and Jamie, also the occasional Luke and Ashton as they hung out at the apartment more frequently.

It was now March. March 7th to be exact. Spring break had started today, and I couldn't be more relieved. I could avoid awkward eye contact between Calum and I for a week.

"Hey," Jamie smiles when I enter the apartment. I nod in reply and continue my walk towards my room.

"Are you doing anything for spring break?" Ashton asks as I pass the couch Jamie and him were sat at.

"No, not really. Probably just gonna catch up on sleep," I say, and he nods in reply before whispering with Aspen.

"There's a party tonight, you should come." He suddenly says when I grab my door handle. I freeze, and he gets off of the couch to stand five feet away from me at the opening of the hallway. Ashton was leaned against the wall as if he was studying my facial expression.

"Maybe." Is all I say before opening the door and hiding in my room.

"Yo Ashmore," Michael calls from my bed in a pretend jock voice. I put my bag down before turning to look at the boy with the now lilac hair.

"Aren't you supposed to be on your way home now?" I question, sitting next to him near my headboard.

"It let out early," He states, turning on his side to face me. The pale skinned boy obviously heard what Ashton said in the hall, and he was waiting for my answer.

"No, Michael." I answer, sliding down to lay on my back. He groans in reply, turning on his stomach and putting his head in the pillow.

"Will you just lighten up? Come on, it's spring break." He whines, his deep voice muffled by the pillow.

"You're acting like a fucking three year old," I laugh, scrolling through Facebook on my phone. Suddenly my phone is thrown somewhere else on the bed and Michael is straddling me, mouth open, a line of spit coming from his mouth and hovering over my face.

"Michael, don't you fucking dare-" I threaten, squirming under his weight, turning my face away from the spit.

"Go to the party!" Michael orders, pulling the spit back briefly to talk.

"No!" I exclaim, kicking my feet. He brings the spit closer and I squeal of horror. "Michael Gordon Clifford!"

"Attend!"

"I will not!" I yell, squirming even more under him. Michael may of been persistent, but I was incredibly stubborn. He stretches it even lower, and I knew that this was my last chance to accept or deny before getting hit with a glob of Michael's spit.

"Fine!" I finally give up, and he sucks the spit back into his mouth and rolls off of me. "I hate you."

"No you don't," Michael laughs before handing me my phone. I stick out my tongue before taking it from his tattooed hand. "You love me."

"Who said that?" I ask, going back to scrolling through my phone. Without looking up I could tell he was feigning a fake pout.

"I thought you did," The boy fake whines, and I laugh a little. He knew I was mad at him and was trying to convince me to be otherwise.

"Nope," I continue, and he puts his face in the pillow. "I'm not falling for it this time."

"Fine." Michael replies, pouting and unlocking his phone.

"Fine, whatever, you win." I admit. Even though he was a child sometimes, I couldn't have one of my best friends not talking to me.

I don't have to look over at him to know that he's turned on his back and smiling at me.

--

"Will you guys stop having sex?" Aspen calls from the hallway, pounding on my door.

"Fuck," Michael pretend yells, and I shake my head with laughter.

The reality of the situation was that Michael was deeply rooted in a League of Legends battle, and I was typing at my laptop. The only physical contact we were making was our linked ankles.

"Oh fuck Michael," I join in, making him snicker with laughter. Aspen throws open the door with wide eyes.

"No sex in my house!" Aspen shouts, and Michael doubles over in laughter, shaking the bed.

"You should tell that to Jamie and Ash," I giggle, and Jamie soon enters the doorway, Ashton behind her.

"The only touching that has happened has been completely PG!" She exchanges back.

"Poor Ashton." Aspen jokingly states, looking back at the blond. He was laughing along whilst shaking his head.

"Okay, all joking aside, try keeping it down." Aspen says seriously, and I nod in response, elbowing Michael, who went back to his game of League. All three of them disappear from the doorway, and I go back to typing.

--

"We'll meet you at the house, okay?" A slightly drunk Jamie asks, causing me to nod in reply. We'd been at this party for three hours, and I was ready to take a drunk Michael home. So, I do.

About twenty minutes later I pull into the Beta Gamma Nu driveway. Michael stumbles out drunkenly before I can completely stop the car, and I rush to help him to the door.

"Stay over," Michael slurs, leaning on the door frame.

"Where's your key?" I ask, dodging his request. He fumbles around in his pockets until he pulls out a Deadpool keychain with a set of car keys attached and a single silver key. Michael hands it over with big doe eyes. In a second the big mahogany door is unlocked. When we walk into the living room, I turn to Michael.

"Go up to your room, I'll meet you in a second." I state, watching as he goes up the stairs before entering the kitchen and getting ice water. I grab an Aspirin bottle and head up the stairs and into Michael's room.

"Hey, you're here," Michael says sleepily. I smile slightly after setting the cup and bottle on his nightstand.

"Sleep," I state, nudging him slightly until he's laying down.

"Lay with me," He says, pulling me down onto his torso. I look at him before I notice his pleading eyes. He needed to sleep, and if this was the only way to get him to sleep, then so be it.

"Only for a little bit."

It takes Michael thirty minutes to fall asleep. When he does, it's easy to get out of his grasp. I fix my hair before going into the hall and going down the stairs. After decending the stairs, I bump into a figure. And there he stands, hair disheveled and eyes bloodshot.

Calum Hood.