Decode // Michael Clifford

Chapter 10

5. 26. 2009 (same day as last chapter)

I went around to the back of Michael’s house, slipping as soundlessly as possible through the door and into the kitchen. I glanced around there and down the hall in the living room, but Michael’s dad wasn’t there. I guessed he was upstairs, where I knew his study and bedroom were. Thanking god that I didn’t have to make awkward small talk with his father, I slipped downstairs to Michael’s bedroom. It looked exactly like the last time I had been in there. The bed was still messy, the dishes were still in the sink, and the Green Day songbook for Nimrod I’d gotten him for Christmas was still on his bedside table. 

I made myself comfortable, flicking on the tv and dropping my bag on the floor by the side of the bed I usually took. I curled up on his bed, insanely happy to be back here. It had only been a little over a week, but it’d felt like so much longer. 

Luckily, I didn’t have to wait very long for Michael to come back. He thudded down the stairs not an hour after I’d arrived. He barely glanced at me, not seeming even slightly surprised to see me curled up on his bed watching tv. He was clad in his usually black skinnies, a torn Joy Division muscle tee, and vans. It wasn’t until my eyes reached his hair that I sucked in a breath. On section of his hair was…. “Blue?” I asked, the first word I’d spoken to him in a week. 

Michael shrugged and trudged past me into the bathroom. I felt a little sting in my chest that he hadn’t responded to me, but I guess I deserved that. I heard the shower start running from the bathroom, and sighed. I was just going to have to wait. 

He emerged from the bathroom a half an hour later, toweling off his hair and still not meeting my gaze. A towel hung low on his hips as he walked over to his dresser and dug out some clothes. I watched as he pulled on some basketball shorts - something he would never wear out in public - and another Joy Division shirt (this one was blissfully free of rips or holes). 

I twiddled my thumbs nervously, wondering how to go about bring this up without making it any worse than I already had. In the end I decided it would be easier to just delve right into it then to beat around the bush like I usually would. The anxiety of any sort of confrontation made me sick, but confrontation with Michael was much worse. The constant fear of him leaving me was always present in my mind. Finally, with a deep sigh, I managed to speak. “Can we please talk about this?”

“Oh now you want to talk?” Michael snapped sarcastically, slumping down on the bed beside me with his arms crossed over his chest. I could tell that he wanted this to be resolved just as badly as I did, but he was just too bitter with me to admit it. “Sorry, I thought you might want to ignore me for another week.”

I flinched slightly at his words, making his face soften, though I deserved them. “I know, and I’m sorry.” My voice was tight as I tried to think of a way to word this without making him even more angry with me. Because the truth was, both of us had just cause to be pissed, but neither of us wanted that to keep us from talking for days again. “I just - I needed some space. With everything going on with Haley… I got overwhelmed and I blamed you. It wasn’t fair, and I’m sorry.” The words were a bit of a stretch, but I’d do just about anything to let this fight be over. 

For a terrifying moment, Michael didn’t move or say a word and I was afraid maybe this fight might not be as easily fixed as I thought. “It’s okay,” he finally sighed. “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have said those things. Just… don’t make me wait around like that again. You scared the shit out of me, Quinn. I spent the last week up on the roof of my dad's building just wondering how the hell I would deal with it if you weren't in my life.”

The fear in his voice was real, and I knew that he had been genuinely terrified for my wellbeing. Cautiously, I scooted over to him and nudged my nose gently against his pale arm. He sighed, attempting not to give in too fast. “Mikey…” I whispered against his skin. With another heavy sigh, but a slight smile threatening to tug at his lips, he lifted his arm. Gratefully, I slipped under it and nuzzled my head into his chest. He wrapped his arm around me and let his fingers trail aimlessly down my arm.