𝕥𝕠𝕠 𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕖 • 𝕞.𝕔

chapter 10

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"Welcome in my humble home," Michael greeted me, faking a little bow. I giggled, then followed him inside. It was a decent flat. And it wasn't like I had exactly taken the time to see it all the first I'd come here, which was... Months ago. The night when it all had happened.

   It was surprisingly quite big; the living room was obviously sort of messy, but knowing its owner, I didn't even bother. It was bound to be like this. After he showed me around quickly, we both sat on the couch, silently. We stayed like this for a few minutes, without saying anything to each other.

I decided to speak up.

"Did you have a good day?" I asked, turning my face to him. He just smirked.

"The atmosphere in this room is tense and heavy, and you are still trying to make small talk? You are incredible, Lee."

I shook my head and squinted, trying to discern whether he was being humorous, or trying to pick a fight. Because I really, really was not in the mood.

"I came here because I needed to see someone," I spat out, staring at my feet. I wanted to scream that I was feeling lonely, but this was not humanly possible without sounding at least a tad desperate. I swallowed back my feelings, and waited for his reply.

He cocked his eyebrow, staring at his feet, then back at me. "And you thought of me?"

"I thought of Emma first."

"Who's Emma?"

I tried to shake off the bad idea of her I was slowly getting, although this kept creeping at the back of my mind, and sat up, crossing my legs.

 "She's my best friend. Since we were young, we met in high school, and she's always been there for me... But I've mostly always been for her. I am not trying to play the victim here, because I appreciate how true she is and how nice she's always been, but it seems like she's turning on me since she knows I'm pregnant."

He crossed his arms, then looked up at me. "You think she doesn't accept you anymore?"

"I don't know, really," I shook my head, starting to feel slightly uncomfortable and inadequate talking behind her back. "I just don't want to be lonely, and with her leaving slowly but surely, it's disappointing. I need someone by my side, I'm feeling alone enough in this situation."

"You shouldn't think about it like that," he approached slightly closer. "Look, think about how she probably feels about it all. Overwhelmed."

"Yeah, because that's what's important here. How Emma feels."

That was enough to shut him up. He didn't say anything else, and I sat there, the lump in my throat growing. But I didn't want to leave; that would mean I would give up on something. We'd promised each other we'd make an effort.

Michael put a movie on, and I didn't know which one it was. I agreed to watch it, feeling slightly rejected by him. He wasn't speaking, and I knew he didn't react the way I did, but I wanted him to talk to me, to say something.

"Please, tell me about yourself," I asked out of the blue.

He looked up at me, his black-ish hair moving. Even in the dark, his eyes were this shade of green I couldn't mistake. He opened his mouth to talk, but shut it right back. Then opened it again. He seemed disinterested. "My name is Michael Clifford, I am twenty-two, and I play the guitar."

"Is this what you used to say to magazines when they interviewed you guys?" I looked at him suspiciously. "I am not some journalist, Michael."

"What are you even trying to do?"

"To get to know you! So you're not a stranger anymore!" I threw my arms up in the air. "I want to know about you. Is it that hard to let people in? I'm trying so hard. Please."

"We are too different," he simply shook his head.

I wanted to scream, but my voice cracked. "So you really don't care. You keep pushing me away. What do you want? Why do I get so upset around you?"

   He didn't say anything, once again. And I came to the realisation. He was too used to having girls falling at his feet, and I was nothing else to him. Baby or not. I could not believe once I had the hope that he would be kind and understanding in the process.

What was wrong with him? What had happened to him so he just chose not to feel anything, and to shut down completely?

To push away, in the hope that sometime, someone would pull him back?

   I sat on the complete opposite side of the couch and curled up in a ball. I waited here for a few minutes, wishing I could gather enough courage to leave, slam the door and never come back again. But I could not be alone in this.

This situation was too much for me

   A second after, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I ignored him. But when he pulled me towards him, I let myself go, ending up in his arms. I wanted to cry so badly, but just stayed strong, tried not to show him. But I felt the need to let it all out; the stress of these past weeks, months, even. I felt a tear falling, and hated myself for letting myself weep in his arms, stupidly.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, resting his head on mine, tracing circles on my back. "I don't think half the stuff I'm saying, I am sorry."

"I don't want to be alone," I repeated.

"You're not, I'm here," I could hear the emotion in his voice, but pretended not to. "I am sorry I am pushing you away."

"I don't even mind," I lied.

"I see that you're crying," he looked down at my face, and kissed my forehead. "I'm trying to make efforts, Lee, but it is hard for me, too. I am not used in having a girl here with me constantly, that asks me for security, who wants me to reassure her. I don't know how to do that, and I am so sorry you couldn't have your first baby with someone you truly loved."

"I am sorry, too," I tried to keep it all together. "I just want you by my side, I don't want us to love each other, I just want us to be there for each other. Pushing each other away won't be working, Michael."

I could feel him nod. He didn't let me go quite yet. "I know."

   We stayed like this for a few minutes, just breathing slowly, trying to calm ourselves down. I could feel his heart beating, rapidly, then slowly. I felt secure in his wide arms, and strangely, I found myself good in here, strangely enough. I wanted so badly for him to become a friend to me, more than just a stranger I had hooked up with. I deserved it, shit.

After all I had gone through.

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