Fixated


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15. 14

 

Chapter 14

~Brigh’s POV~

 

            “Brigh, take it easy—”

            I turned around and gave him a pointed glare, shutting him right up.

            “It’s fine, Michael. I got it,” I hissed and thundered up the stairs, aware that I was currently acting like a full-fledged child. Not my problem.

            “Doctor said you are suppose to take your medicine when you get home,” Michael said timidly from the bottom of the stairs. I stopped and clenched my hands into fists, feeling like I could rip all my hair out.

            “Okay,” I muttered and stomped back down the stairs, not looking up at his frustrated expression. I open the tab and shook two anesthetics into my palm, swallowing them down dry.

            “There. Happy?” I narrowed my eyes at Michael as he stood a few feet away from me, just watching.

            “Yeah,” he said. I could tell he was trying to keep his patience, but it was wearing thin quickly. This time when I stomped upstairs, I had no intention of ever coming back down again. I slammed my door shut and locked it, then flopped on my bed face first, ignoring the pain spreading across my entire head.

            “‘Take it easy, Brigh.’” I mocked in Michael’s annoying accent. “Yeah right.”

            I spent the whole night mocking things Michael has said to me in the past twenty-four hours.

            “‘Oh, you hit your head really hard, Brigh.”’

“‘Harry wasn’t there, just your imagination, Brigh.”’

            “‘You’re going fucking insane, Brigh.”’

            Okay, maybe he didn’t say that last one, but it was implied. Of course I wasn’t fucking crazy. I know what I saw and what I saw was Harry in Kate and Michael’s house using the fucking bathroom like everything was all right in the world. It was just a coincidence that I passed out and hit my head on the railing…of course, right?

            “Holy mother of fuck,” I groaned into my pillow. What the fuck am I even doing? I didn’t sign up for this shit. All I wanted was to have a nice, loving, fucking awesome relationship with Harry; be best friends with Michael and Kate, and that be the end of it. But noooo, we had to be stalked by some deranged lunatic. I had to be carted off to Tennessee with Harry for extra protection with really, didn’t help at all (although it was a nice little stay, really nice), we had to leave Kate and Michael behind, and then we had to be kidnapped and tortured. Then, to complicate every fucking thing even futher, Harry had to die.

            Or so it seems.

            Oh, and did I forget to mention that Michael is apparently in love with me and Kate now hates me because of it? Yeah, I definitely didn’t sign up for this.

            I couldn’t help but think I was in some sort of horror film. And those never end up with a happy ending. At least the ones I saw didn’t…My head began to pound and my stomach growled with hunger, but I didn’t want to leave the warmth of my bed or the comfort of my room, also I didn’t want to talk to Michael.

            But…

            “Michael!” I shouted, clutching my head with a grimace.

            “What?” He shouted back, a slight edge to his voice. I ignored it.

            “Can you make me some noodles?” I tried to sound nice as possibly when I yelled it, but the loudness of my voice made it sound like a demand.

            “Yes ma’am,” he sighed, loud enough for me to hear it through the wood of my door. I rolled my eyes.

            “I’m suppose to take it easy, remember?” I muttered bitterly to myself, shaking my head. A good five minutes later, Michael walked into my room with my bowl of Roman noodles in one hand and a water bottle in the other.

            “Here,” he mumbled, setting the bowl carefully in my outstretched hands.

            “Thank you,” I said. He grumbled something and set my water down, stepping quickly out of my room.

            “Okay then,” I sighed heavily and began to eat my noodles.

+++

            It wasn’t until a day and a half later when I finally cracked my I’m so bitter attitude. I was in the living room and Michael was busy acting like I was a disease that was extremely contagious. Every time I went near him, he’d scoot away, not even being discreet about it either.

            “Michael, what are you doing?” I asked him that evening, pausing the movie we were watching. I had gotten up to get another pillow to rest my head against when Michael scooted a few inches away from me. Because god forbid I was less than a foot away from him. I mean it was only a matter of time before he falls off the end of the damn couch.

            “What do you mean?” He asked, stuffing his phone into his pocket. I sighed.

            “This,” I gestured between us, “you keep moving away from me every time I come near you, you barely talk to me. Are you still mad at me? Is it because—”

            “Why would I be mad at you?” He cut me off mid-sentence. His eyes glimmered in the dim light, making them seem even brighter.

            “Because I’m a pain in the ass? Because I keep saying I saw Harry that night? Because—”

            Michael cut me off again with a loud groan. He dropped his gaze to the floor and began gnawing on his bottom lip.

            “I’m not mad, okay? I’ve been going through a rough spot. Kate is gone and everything is just…” he groaned again, hanging his head and pressing his fingers against his temples. I waited until I was certain he was finished before opening my mouth. Only words didn’t come out.

            “Oh, um, I-I’m sorry,” I mumbled, a complete loss for words. I paused for a moment’s hesitation, watching Michael rub his temples like he was experiencing the world’s worst headache, to slide closer to him, wrapping my arm around his waist gently. I pulled him into my side, squeezing him tighter and resting my head against his bicep when he didn’t move away, but didn’t exactly welcome to gesture.

            “I’m sorry, Michael.” I murmured, feeling overwhelmed with all of sudden guilt I felt. About everything I ever put him in. Him and Kate. Michael didn’t respond, but he eventually lied his head down against mine with a tired sigh.

            I wanted to ask him what was wrong, but I also didn’t want to put him any further than I already have. I guess not everyone is willing to share his or her feelings with another, including myself. Maybe that was starting to take its toll. I have kept a lot of things, emotions, thoughts, bottled up inside for a long time. And I starting to wonder when I’ll completely break down. Maybe I’m already losing my mind…

            The thought terrified me.

            “Let’s finish this movie, yeah?” Michael, thankfully, interrupted my thoughts.

            “Sure,” I said quietly, not wanting to take my head off of his arm, but I felt how uncomfortable he was getting so I carefully dislodged my arm from his waist and lifted my head up, reaching for the remote to press play. I let out a little sigh and crawled back to my original spot, focusing my attention on the film, but not really taking anything in.

            Some time later, my eyes were drooping and my head started to loll to the side. I felt the space next to me dip down with a sudden weight. I didn’t look up.

            Michael gently laid his head on my shoulder, a wave of his vague cologne filled my nose, familiar and comfortable. Falling under a deeper state of unconsciousness, I barely felt his warm fingers absently trailing the skin of my palm, murmuring something close to my ear.

            “I’m sorry,” he was saying. “ I wish I can tell you, but I can’t. You’re not crazy, Brigh.” He kept whispering those words until I finally drifted off into darkness, Zayn and Harry’s image etched behind my eyelids.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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