Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Calum hood lost Michael Clifford.

Not in a physical sense, I mean, he hasn't gone anywhere, he's still right in front of him, but nothing about him belongs to him anymore . His smile, that smile that still sends the brown haired boy's heart roaring, is no longer directed at him. His fingers that dart across his phone screen, texting some number that Calum didn’t know. It hurt to watch, in a bittersweet way. His eyes are happy, pools of green that are filled with joy and he likes them that way. He loves to see Michael with bright eyes and crooked grins. But it hurt, hurt to see Michael, his Michael looking at the phone like he would jump through it straight to where he belongs.

Because Michael has always belonged with Calum. It had always been CalumAndMichael, never separate and they liked it that way. They had always fit like that, two peas in a pod. They were hard to separate, because they were loving clingy people, who held the people they loved close. Michael was always like that, with everyone, the brunette knew. He knew that he was just a touchy person, and he knew how much he enjoyed that. How much he had wanted Michael around and wanted his lanky arms to wrap loosely around his own. How he craved practice to end so they could cuddle back at home.

He likes Michael, he’s a good lad.  He's fun to be around, good at games. Good company all round.

But he also has pretty pink lips that part deliciously when he speaks, soft hands that brush his occasionally. He also has long arms that fit around Calum's waist and he sometimes presses a kiss to the back of his neck if he's a little drunk. He also had fluffy hair that feels like heaven on Calum’s fingers. He also has a laugh, a laugh that rings in Calum's ear and sounds so sweet that he has to release a sigh. He has small fingers and a soft tummy that Calum likes to rest on and sleep on. He’s just so soft , from his warm eyes that capture Calum to his small hands that sometimes tangle with Cal’s if he’s nervous, to the way he smiled just for him.

Maybe he has a little crush. But really, can you blame him? Anyone in the vicinity of that green eyed boy would fall head over heels for him. But thing is, that’s what he has done. And he genuinely felt so much for Michael, when Michael was around he could feel this intense affection and something more than that swell in his chest, and it almost swallows him whole.

But Michael’s head is buried in Calum’s chest, as he runs his fingers through his hair. He would be happy, so so happy because he is holding his perfect boy, but he can see Mikey’s phone and his face light up whenever  he gets a new text. He tries to reason with himself that it could be anything, that it didn’t have to be a new girl or boyfriend, it could just be a friend.

He can’t really think that because Mikey has this smile that shows only to people that he likes that way (maybe it hurts Cal that he’s never seen it at him) and his phone has got him smiling like that. And this moment should be theirs. It should be the two of them, Mikey and him just together, breathing in each other's love and cuddles. But Mikey isn’t doing that,he’s making goo goo eyes at his phone.

Michael put down his phone, and looked the other boy. The doe eyed boy never got used to the look of these green gems staring back at him, those green portals taking him to another world and gave him chills rushing up his veins because he is in Michael’s view, his warm eyes settling around his form and Calum feels so lovely under his gaze, like the world stopped and only he can be caught in the stream of light that Michaels eyes send. Michael smiles lazily at the other boy, his chin resting on Calum's

"Cal? Can I ask you something?" And he is shaken out of his adoring haze and nods, feeling his heart drop to his feet as he continues to card his fingers through neon hair. Michael can ask him anything because Calum would love Michael if he was a serial killer.

Michael blushes as his stomach churns because show him kittens and puppies and fucking anything adorable but nothing is as cute as blushing Michael Clifford. chest while they look at eachother with warm affection. This is what Calum had wanted, the world halting as their fingers mesh and eyes link. And the brunette's breath hitches as Michaels warm breath washes over his lips and all he wants is to press his lips against the other boys. Their lips are so close and Calum can practically taste the other boys lips. Hooded eyes almost take over. He instinctively leaned in slightly and before he could slot his lips against Michael's soft pink parted ones and he knows it's going to feel like heaven and -

"His name is Jamie. You'll love him Cal. He's so cool!" He kept rambling, but Calum was entranced with his eyes sparkling and lips moving and the affection at which he spoke and the way his words say more and break more than he thought possible.

Calum feels broken. Because his world is laying on his chest and  rambling about someone else and he needs it.

He needs the other boys love. He needs to be held and to hold Michael and he needs his lips on his own and he needs sleepless nights that words cease but tangled legs and hushed affections take their place. He needs laughter that fills in for sappiness and genuine sentiments that are soiled (or helped) by a joke. He needs his best friend with everything he is, and everything he isn’t.

Calum hood has lost Michael Clifford.

He wonders if he ever had him in the first place.

Chapter Text

The day when Jamie comes is the day that Calum feels like shit.

His day started out pretty shitty too, with spilling juice all over his favorite top, (which he totally didn’t wear to prove to Mikey he was attractive too, no, of course not) to how his hair refused to stand the way he liked. He had to room with Ashton last night because Luke had wanted to tell Michael something. It seemed that Ashton wasn’t too happy with this either, so they pouted together.

He hadn’t slept well without the smooth feel of pale skin pressed against his neck, without the soft hums of Michael’s breath against his skin, without Michael.

Jamie arrives midday and he is unfairly attractive. He's exactly Michael's type too. Blonde hair in a quiff, with the tip pointed into blue. Thin and tall, dimples and a almost irresistible Irish accent. He's cute, Calum seethes.

His sense of humor is no worse either, captivating the boys with jokes and stories and if Calum wasn't so busy dying at there way his Mikey's eyes were glowing at the boy. All of the stars and sun could combine and they wouldn't shine as bright as the green in Michael's eyes when he looked at Jamie.

And suddenly Calum can taste sickness in his mouth because Michael is leaning his head on Jamie's neck and then Jamie's arm is wrapped around his shoulder. They look like they fit.

Calum was seething. His Michael. His. That is his boy cuddling into Jamie and it is his boy making eyes at him and if Michael leans in and whispers something in Jamie's ear again, Calum will die.

Because that should be Calum feeling Michaels skin against his own, feeling his arms wrapped around his middle, feeling the warm breath of Mikey's thoughts seep into his ear. He's been there for him longer, he's better for Mikey, he is.

Jamie is playing Luke's guitar and they're listening, and that is what draws him out of the pain for a second. His voice rings like a bell as he sings a song that Michael loves but never hears. He's got a voice like velvet and Mikey looks happy and Calum can feel bits and pieces of his heart giving away because Jamie is better for Michael than Calum could ever be.

And he still needs his boy. So selfish, he thinks and he watches the boys listen to Jamie and watches the love of his life skip from his grasp. So selfish that he's addicted to the high of Michael's love, addicted to the shivering sensation of Michael lain against him, the high of it all.

But he can't really blame himself, because Michael is a drug and he really should know better than to fall for the dealer. Michael is a drug and he can feel the love in his veins and feel it when he looks him in the eye, when he feels those soft fingers brush against him.

Jamie leaves with hugs and smiles from the boys because they like Jamie, and Calum can fake like he does.

Jamie stays in Calum's head for hours.  

~

20 minutes later, Mikey smiles and walks into their room (Luke was sleeping with Ashton again. It was odd to see Ashton mad at Luke, and the curly headed boy with the sunshine smile was tightlipped and harsh to Luke.)

Michael approaches the bed and curls into Calum's side, head lain on his chest. And Calum tries to stop his stomach from flipping when Michael sighs and enjoys the feeling of warmth that radiates from him.

Calum needs to get him off. Calum needs to stop this. He needs to process this. He needs to take the time to realize that Michael Clifford is perfection and people like Calum don't get to have perfect.

He got the first part down pretty well.

He pushes Mikey off of him slowly and Michael gives him a look and if Calum was being generous he'd call it hurt.

And when Michael's arms are gone its cold and no no no no he didn't want him farther. His mind is a  paradox; close, far, push and pull.

Michael asks him with such concern that Calum wants to die.

"You okay, pup?" He asks, taking Calum's fingers in his own, and it didn't help because Calum wants to lean in and kiss that worried look off his pink lips

He swallows his affection that builds in his throat, and offers a weak smile

“Just a bit tired, maybe a little sick.” Sick of loving you. Sick of wanting you. Tired of watching you walk away. Tired of secrets. Tired of being sick and tired. Tired of being an idiot who’s dumb enough to fall in love with his best friend.

“Oh Cal,” Michael says sympathetically, reaching his soft palm to his forehead.calum shudders under the paler boys’ touch and Michael says he feels a bit hot.

“I’ll leave you be.”

He feels the thoughts boil in his chest as Michael steps away and he can feel the warmth of his leave along with him. And there’s the paradox again. Don’t leave, leave, don’t stay, stay with me.

Addiction.

But he nods and snuggles into the pillow and he tries not to revel too much in the fond smile that Michael throws his way.

Maybe he does sleep.

Maybe he doesn’t because he needs a certain neon haired boy with him.

~

When Michael returns to their room he’s got a whole bunch of Martha Stewart shit with him. Soup, cookies, blankets and movies and this is why Michael is a good friend. He doesn’t let himself get pushed away this time, and frankly, seeing all the effort Michael has gone to make him happy, the swell in his chest wouldn't let him push the other boy even if he’d wanted to.

And right now, with Michael’s jaw on his chest as the light of the tv casting light on Michael’s long eyelashes, Calum admires the boy that he loves.

He looks like a dream, picturesque. His hair was soft as it threaded through his Cal’s fingers, and there is something so serene about the neon boy that Calum was so entranced by. And with warm green eyes that Calum could live in that paradise forever, he speaks through hushed words that make Calum’s skin tingle.

“Did you like him?” He’s searching for something in Calum’s eyes, searching for signs and Calum feels exposed because Michael can see him and read him like a book.

“Yeah, Mikey. He’s really cool.” he forces it to sound sweet. He continues drawing shapes on the other boy’s arms.

And the hit to stomach. the burn and break of it all, the sinking feeling that he’ll never be rid of for as long as he lives, he loves it.

He loves the smile that creeps up and blooms on his face like new york and diamonds and anything else and he can’t think of anything else as beautiful and bright because nothing compares to his beautiful boy.

And that beautiful boy isn’t really his at all.