Christmas quickly rolls around and that means it's almost break. This week has all been exams, exams, and more exams. Of course Michael needs help with his exams. I'm not helping him. Why would I help him? He's been more rude to me, especially since I've been coming to more band practices. Can't help it that they're actually becoming more of a group. They sound good, been writing some songs, and they're working on a new cover, Teenage Dirtbag. It so far didn't sound like shit, it actually sounded pretty good. Today was the day they were going to film it, and I would obviously help them. I'm like the little band director, always recording their videos.
I set up the camera on the tripod in front of the Christmas tree.
"Perfect," I mumble to myself.
"I don't think it should be there," Michael says to me.
"Of course not Michael, of course not," I say back to him.
"I'm being honest," he mumbles.
"Are you being honest or just being a dick?" I ask him, turning to face him.
"Why do you always call me fucking names?" He asks.
"Because you're a dick to me!" I yell back.
"You have been so rude to me ever since I came to this school. You always picked on me because how I dressed and my music taste. And here you are now, with your pin straight hair, wearing a band tank top, and holding a fucking guitar. So Michael Clifford... Why do you hate me, hm? I am exactly the same as you," I spit.
"Because I love you..." he mumbles.
"No, you don't. No one would hurt someone they love. You wouldn't hurt your mom or dad," I respond.
"No, I wouldn't, but you don't understand," he says.
"No. No, I don't understand. I never understand you," I reply.
"I never will, Michael. I never will."