Cold as ice itself, and pale as the snow itself, Michael Clifford is not the type of 6ft boy you should be messing with, unless it's a death with you are asking for.

But when someone crosses his path, his entire life turns all the way around, and maybe he might just show his soft spots.


3. "Solve."

I knock on Michael's door. I never thought I would be here for any reason at all. He opens the door, his hair shaped almost in a fringe.

"What's wrong with your hair?" I ask him.

"Nothing..." He says trying to re-style it. He runs up to his room and I follow him by slowly walking up the stairs. He quickly turns off his music which sounded very familiar. I ignore the thought and walk into his messy room.

"You like these people?" I ask motioning to all his band posters. Blink-182, Good Charlotte, Sum 41...

"This is my brother's room," he mumbles. 

"Why can't we go into your room?" I question. 

"I'm re-painting it," he replies. He pulls out his math textbook with multiple problems that I should know all the answers to. 

"What?" I ask.

"Solve," he replies. 


"Why?" He whines. 

"It's your homework, I'm helping, not doing it," I reply. 

"But you're smart,"

"I know Michael... I can't just give you the answers, you won't learn anything." I reply sighing. 

"But I don't understand anything," he says. 

"Figures..." I mumble.

"What did you say?" He asks, challenging me.

"Nothing... I said nothing," I reply. 

"Solve," he says again.

"No," I reply.

"I'm trying to help you, Michael. You don't get it do you?" I ask.

"I don't understand anything... I was practically falling asleep during this lesson." Michael replies. 

"So you need me to teach you?" I ask, almost in shock.

"Yes," Michael answers. 




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