Don't Focus on the Pastel {5SOS;MALUM&LASHTON}✔️

Thirty One: "Don't Focus on the Pastel."

Calum watched as Luke left the basement, turning his words over in his head. Luke was right, after taking all the voices from his mind and leaving only the blond, Luke could actually speak for himself and make sense. Calum should apologize to everyone. He was the reason a lot of people's lives were messed up, some more than others but torn apart none the less.

He met eyes with Michael as he stood before him, arms dropping by his sides. They tingled, trying to get the blood where it needed to be as they jolted at the sudden release of pressure. He glanced at Ashton, who was more concerned with packing up a smaller bag before Michael grabbed his attention.

"You left me there." He pointed out, a nod from Calum causing his grip to tighten on his open butterfly knife. "Why? I want you to tell me why."

"Because I was scared. Scared of Luke and Ashton, scared that the world would take you from me, scared that all your time in the asylum let you see how bad I was for you. That you would see how bad I was and leave me with nothing and learn to be normal again, not relying on me." He replied honestly.

It was what he owed Michael. The truth, because after years of lying to everyone-to Harry, Louis, Cory, Michael, Luke, Liz, and Ashton- Calum was getting tired of it. He was tired of himself and running when all his past did was catch up.

Michael nodded slowly, getting into his knees and pressing his lips to Calum's softly. He closed his eyes, kissing back as he felt Michael's hand lace together with his. He didn't open his eyes, knowing if he did, the tears would start to drop. Michael didn't want his tears, so Calum wouldn't burden him with a pitiful reaction of his own despair.

Michael was broken still, he didn't know what he wanted anymore because there was still a lot he didn't know. He wanted Calum dead but he wanted the man to stay alive as well. His impulse of fear was moving him and Michael finally understood what Luke felt like as he watched his body move on its own and ride off his anger and fear instead of his love.

Calum's lips trembled against Michael's, a shaky breath that carried his last words when he felt the cool metal meet with his throat, "I love you, peach."

He felt Michael's grip tighten on his hand impossibly, a last touch as Michael broke past his mind to speak back gently, "I love you too, Cally."

The blade cut deep, Calum choking on his love as it poured out for the pink haired boy that held his heart, even while he was doing the bidding of everyone's desires. He dropped to his side, hearing Michael let go of a sob before the clatter of a knife against the cement he laid on. His palm fell cold when Michael's touch moved from him, feeling the creep of cold crawl up his arm and slowly encase his body.

Footsteps receded away from him in rapid succession, Calum turning himself onto his back with a feeble push as the tears streamed down his cheeks. He coughed, blood splattered across his lips as it dropped down his chest and neck.