#like seriously why did all the profs decide that monday was a great day to have all my exam stuff due? bitch it is the top of the exam week

[daincrediblegg]

I love having an insomnia episode during crunch week that makes me so tired I can’t even stick to schedule like yaaaaay we really fucking needed that 🙃🙃🙃🙃

[i-like-5sos]

No Idea [Malum Fic]

PAIRING: Calum Hood x Michael Clifford

WORD COUNT: 6428 

WARNINGS: Drinking, swearing, and just some angst 

SUMMARY: After moving across the country to escape the heartache that high school brings and to begin his first year at University, Michael finds himself face to face with the very person that caused his heartbreak: Calum Hood. 

A/N: This was made specifically for Mandie for The Club Fic Gift Exchange ! It’s been a hot minute since I’ve written any mxm BUT I’ve missed it and can’t wait to start writing more (if you have any suggestions on how to improve please send them my way, I’ll take all the help I can get).

Fifteen minutes late. I’m fifteen minutes late to my first class as a University student. Great.

I burst out through the doors of the residency building, almost crashing into some blonde girl who’s face leaves my memory as quickly as it entered, and run as fast as I can across the campus to The Arts building. Thankfully I listened to Mom’s advice and looked up a map of the school last night or I’d be fucked right now. Musical Theory. Monday, 8AM. Room 102: Arts Building. I check the room number on my schedule twice before taking a deep breath and opening the door to my classroom.

The door opens to the back of the room and multiple heads spin around to face me. I can feel my face getting hot as I try to disappear into myself and search for a place to sit down. As to be expected, almost every table in the room is full and there’s nowhere to sit… Unless I want to join one of the tables of three and converse in small talk with a group of people that obviously don’t want me to sit with them- and let’s be clear; I don’t want to do that.

I almost settle for a table with two girls seated at it, but then notice the table in the front of the room with only one person there. Thank god. I head toward the dark-haired boy at the table and quietly sit across from him. He doesn’t react as I sit down, his head buried in his folded arms on the table.

I would normally never be caught dead at the front of the room, but here I am, sitting so close to the professor that I can smell his cheap cologne, having to share a table with some random guy who is probably going to hate me for ruining his table of solitude.  

As the class continues, I do my best to follow along with the PowerPoint slides on my screen while also trying to focus on what the professor is saying at the front of the room, but I can’t help but glance over to the brunette across from me every chance I get. His head hasn’t left his arms since I’ve sat down, and I’m pretty sure he’s asleep… Maybe I should wake him up. Maybe he’s dead. I begin to picture what would happen if my classmate had died sitting across from me. Would I have to talk to the police? Would I be a suspect? Am I obligated to go to his funeral and give a speech? What would I even say? What if-

“You will have two months to complete this project and it will be worth thirty percent of your final grade. Get to work.”

I turn to face the Professor, and I realize that I may have zoned out for the entire explanation of a project that’s worth almost a third of my final grade… awesome.

Letting out a sigh, I turn back to read through the notes on my screen and, of course, none of them have anything to do with a huge project. There is no way I am going to ask the professor to repeat everything he’d just said.

As my classmates begin to talk amongst themselves about the project that I know nothing about, I glance over to the boy across from me that may or may not be dead and decide that now’s a good a time as any to find out.

“Hey” I say quietly.

No response.

I repeat myself a little louder, “Hey… Uh, my name’s Michael.”

No response again.

“Dude, seriously?” I huff, before picking up my biggest textbook and dropping it onto the table.

It worked! His head shoots up and I notice the headphones in his ears. That explains a lot. I also notice that the boy I’ve been watching all morning sitting across from me is the same boy I’d spent the majority of my high school years watching from across the room. Calum Hood. I haven’t seen him since our high school graduation last June, but he looks about the same. Same dark hair, same brown eyes, same three moles on his cheek, same annoyed and confused look on his face- oh no wait that’s new.

“Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” He glares at me as he rips the headphones out of his ears.

“I thought you were dead or asleep or something.” I shrug before changing the topic, “I didn’t know you got accepted here.”

“Well, obviously I’m not dead, and if I was sleeping, that was a cruel way to get me to wake up... Remind me never to have you actually wake me up.” He places his headphones into his backpack before continuing. “And um, yeah, I was torn between a few different universities but settled on the one farthest from home… Looks like you did the same?”

I nod and chuckle softly. “Yeah. Fuck that place.”

“How pop punk of you.” He laughs, and it brings me back to being fifteen and pathetically swooning over that very sound, never being the one to have caused it. If only fifteen-year-old me could see me now.

Grounding myself, I quickly try to think of something that isn’t completely embarrassing, and remember the mysterious project that I know mothing about.

“So… did you catch anything the prof was saying about this project worth thirty percent of our grade… cause I might have zoned out the whole time...”

He looks confused for a moment, before directing his attention to his laptop.

“I can’t blame you for not paying attention. Five minutes into his lecture I stopped listening to him and started listing to my music instead. Figured I could just read the Power Point later tonight.” He types something before continuing, “I looked through the material on the class page before the lecture started and I think I saw something about a group project that was worth thirty percent… let me just… Okay yeah, here it is.” He turns his laptop to face me, pointing at the assignment on the screen and showing me how her got there.

I quickly follow his instructions to the page and begin reading about the assignment. It’s a group project for 2-3 people about how emotions and feelings are portrayed through song. We’re all supposed to draw an emotion from the professor -that explains why people keep getting up to talk to him- and write an essay about a song that has made us feel this way. Once we finish our essays, we’re supposed to go back to our partners and make a playlist of 25 songs that combines each the emotions we were individually assigned and talk about how easily these emotions can be portrayed in music. Seems simple enough… Except for the whole partner part.

I look up from my computer screen, and before I can talk myself out of it, I ask Calum if he’d like to partner up for the project. To my surprise, he agrees and before I know it, I’m looking down at the paper I had pulled out of the tin can on my professor’s desk. Longing. What kind of lame-ass emotion is longing? I sit back down at our table and show Calum my paper.

“Longing? That’s going to be so easy to write about! And it’ll go great with love. This is going to be a piece of cake.” He enthusiastically, typing away on his laptop.

“You got love? Are you kidding me? That’s such bullshit. Every song is about love… or sex… or drugs, and I don’t think sex or drugs are emotions… so like that’s not fair.” I look back at my small slip of paper, “How am I even supposed to write about longing?”

He breaks away from his typing long enough to look at me, “Longing is so easy to write about. Haven’t you ever wanted something you couldn’t have? Or missed someone or something like that?”

“I don’t know… maybe.” I pause for a moment, “I don’t know.”

He looks back to his screen and continues to type. “Okay, I looked up the word longing and it says here that ‘Longing is mainly a blend of the primary emotions of love or happiness and sadness or depression’. So there. You can focus on one of those four. It’s not that hard, Michael.”

Hearing Calum say my name takes me back for another brief moment. Even though we went to the same school for four years, I never really knew if he had known my name or not… we never really talked or hung out in the same crowds, so I figured it was safe to assume he didn’t even know I existed.

He shakes his head and looks at his screen again as I try to avoid the thoughts of how smooth my name rolled off his tongue that are currently running wild in my head, to focus on what he had said about the different ways longing could be portrayed and experienced.

Just as I begin to reflect on the last few years of my life for a moment that could stand out as ‘experiencing longing’, I’m interrupted by the sounds of my classmates packing up their belongings. I look to my left and notice Calum suddenly standing next to me.

“Here,” he says, handing me a sticky note with a phone number on it. “text me so we can meet up to work on the project.”

“I uh- thanks.” I stumble over my words as I take the paper from him and stick it to the inside of my laptop.

When I turn back to Calum, he’s already on his way to the door. I quickly pack up my books and pause for a moment to look at the sticky note before shutting my laptop, ignoring the heat on my face and the feeling in my stomach.

. . .

I feel like I may have stepped into an alternate dimension when I entered that classroom two weeks ago, because I’ve somehow found myself in the Calum Hood’s dorm room. By choice. His choice. Who would have thought?

To be honest, I’m kind of surprised at how easily we get along. We both have the same taste in music, the same sense of humor, and the same hobbies. Who knew we were so similar? Had we actually spoken to one another in high school, there would have been no stopping a friendship from forming.

Since texting him the day after our class, we’ve pretty much been inseparable. So, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that I’m hanging out with Calum in his dorm room… but I kind of am.

“Okay seriously, Calum. How do you already have four pages written out for your essay?” I ask, scrolling through the Word document open on his laptop.

“It’s like you said, love is easy to write about… You know what else is easy to write about?” He spins around on his desk chair, taking a break from his game to face me. “Longing. Have you even started your essay, or were you just planning on taking me down with you when you flunk out?”

I set the laptop down next to me on his bed. “The only one flunking out here is your team in Fifa.”

“That was a shit insult and you know it.”

“You’re a shit insult.”

He shakes his head and laughs. “Mate, for real. Do you need help writing your part?”

“No. I told you, I’ll be fine. I just need some inspiration… Which is what I should have gotten from your essay but the whole damn thing is about your family. It is so boring! Where’s the drama? Weren’t you a ladies’ man in high school? Where’s that Calum?”

With his eyebrows raised he looks taken aback for a moment and bursts out laughing.

“Did you seriously just call fourteen-year-old me a ‘ladies’ man’?” He asks, making air quotes at the last part.

I shrug and he continues laughing.

“Okay fine, you have a point. But like... what even is longing?”

His laughter softens and he rolls his eyes, smiling at me.

“Do you need me to pull up the definition again?”

“Fuck off.” I huff.

“Okay, fine… What about like, leaving town to come here. Didn’t you miss your girlfriend? Or your friends? Or maybe your family?”

“Girlfriend?” I laugh loudly. There’s no way he’s serious right now… “No. Absolutely no girlfriend. As for my family? I honestly couldn’t be happier to be on my own and out of the house... Also, it’s kind of hard to miss your friends when facetime exists.” I lay back on his bed and prop myself up with my elbow. “What else ya got?”

“Okay lone wolf… what about uh… okay I’ve got it. What about longing for like… touch, or affection, or love, or… fucking I don’t know, food?”

“Yeah, cause I’ll definitely get an A writing my essay about craving a Big Mac. Maybe I can get extra credit if I bring one in.”

He glares at me and rolls his eyes again before shaking his head and turning around to focus his attention back to his game. I drop my head onto his pillow and sigh. Watching him play, my mind wanders as I being to think about his words. Touch. Affection. Love. My heart aches for the poor fifteen-year-old boy I once was, longing for those exact things for over a year and never getting them. I remember the emotional shut down I forced myself to do to move on from the brown-eyed boy that occupied my mind daily. I sigh deeply, taking in the musky scent of the room around me, and as much as I don’t want to admit it, I finally know what I’ll be writing about.

. . .

“Are you sure you know where this party is? I’m pretty sure we’re lost.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure they said it’s in this neighborhood… there should be a street coming up soon that starts with an S… or maybe it was a B. Whatever. We’ll start to see people on the street sooner or later and follow the noise to the right house.”

Calum and I continue to walk aimlessly down the suburban streets with houses that all look the same, in search for a party that I’m not even sure exists at this point.

“You’d think, for someone that probably went to every high school party, you’d know to write down an address when it’s given to you.” I grumble as my feet begin to ache.

“You know, you make a lot of assumptions about what I was like in high school. Weren’t you ever told not to assume?” He says, bumping his shoulder against mine.

“You’re really going to tell me that you never went to any parties in high school? I seriously doubt that.”

“Okay… Well, yeah I went to some parties. Didn’t everyone though?”

“What? No.” I scoff. “Dude, not everyone was invited to parties like Mr. Cool Guy over here.”

“Am I supposed to be Mr. Cool Guy? That’s a laugh.”

“Mate. Just admit it. You were one of the cool kids and you know it.” I bump my shoulder back against his.

“Was not.”

“You were to! Everyone knew who you were. Everyone wanted to either date you or be you. You can’t be that oblivious.” I kick a small pebble as we cross yet another unidentifiable street.

“Date me or be me huh? Did you want to be me?”

Fucking hell. Why am I still allowed to have the ability to speak without a filter?

“No.” I focus my gaze on the cracks in the sidewalk, making sure to avoid any possible eye contact.

It’s quiet for a moment as a car drives past us, filling the silence before Calum speaks again.

“Well, you obviously didn’t want to date me. So, your theory is clearly wrong.”

I walk beside him silently as I debate whether to admitting to the fact that I had the biggest crush on him for over a year when we were younger.

“See, I’m right.”

“I did though.” I choke out before I’m able to stop myself. Fuck.

“What?” He stops walking.

Well, this was fun while it lasted… I wonder if our professor will still let me join another group, seeing as Calum isn’t going to want to talk to me ever again.

May as well finish the job then.

“I did want to date you.” I confess softly as I stop in front of him, keeping my eyes on the ground.

“You’re not... gay though.”

I- What? He’s got to be kidding me right now. I’m pretty sure everyone in high school knew I was gay. Hell, I came out to my parents in the fifth grade.

“Are you fucking with me? Calum.” I finally gain the courage to meet my eyes with his and see him shaking his head. “I’m gay as fuck. Always have been.”

“No way. What about Jessica Hunter?”

We’re awkwardly standing in the middle of the sidewalk and I’m completely over-aware of the man walking his dog across the street as Calum continues to stare at me with a dumbstruck look on his face. Well, at least he hasn’t left yet.

“What about Jessica? She and I hang out from time to time and listen to music together. We’re friends.” Oh god. “Wait- are you thinking that her and I? Oh god. Never.” I shake my head to try and get that image out of it.

“No no... She was in love with you! The way she always talked about you, hung around you, and hung off you… You went to Prom together! You were the reason I never even had a chance with her. I spent so many hours thinking about you and why she chose you over me and I…” he tampers off and continues to look utterly confused.

Am I being Punked right now? There must be a hidden camera somewhere. This can’t be real.

“No Calum. Oh my god. Mate. Jessica and I were always together talking about you. She didn’t want me. She wanted you… We both did. We only went to Prom together cause she was still hung up on you and didn’t have the guts to ask you herself. Plus, you did that whole stag Prom thing with Timothy Anderson anyway.”

He continues to stand there, trying to piece together the story he had so wrongly created around himself.

“So… You’re gay.”

“Yup.”

“And you actually used to … like me?”

“Yup”

“And Jessica-“

“Never had a chance with me. Because I’m gay and she had the hots for you anyway… Are we all caught up? Can we please keep walking? I’m getting cold.”

“Man, did I have this whole thing wrong or what…” He shakes his head and starts walking again.

We continue heading to the party that totally doesn’t exist and get about half a block away from where we had previously stopped before Calum stops walking again.

“Dude! Seriously?” I sigh deeply and stop a few feet in front of him.

“You don’t uh… still have feeling for me or anything. Do you?”

“Yes Calum. I’m completely head over heels for you and plan to propose to you when we get to the party in front of everyone.” His mouth drops and I roll my eyes. “Fuck off. No. Cal, I don’t still have feelings for you. That was years ago. Now can we please keep walking? I’m going to fucking die of hypothermia.”

“Okay… you’re right. Sorry.” He mutters, clearly embarrassed and continues to walk again.

At least I’m not the only one that’s embarrassed.

We walk silently for a few minutes and I feel his fingertips brush against mine and my heart flutters softly. Shit.

. . .

“Are you even listening to me Mike?”

I look up from my phone to see Calum glaring at me. He burst into my dorm room about 45 minutes ago insisting we practice our presentation for the millionth time since he finished his essay. Of course, mine’s not finished yet, but at least I have something to write about now. But, without mine to practice, he’s just been reading his on a loop – I personally think he’s trying to annoy me to death. Jokes on him though, he’s got a nice voice.

“I can only hear your essay so many times before my brain starts to block it out to preserve my sanity.”

“You wouldn’t have to hear it so much if we had something else to practice… like, I don’t know- maybe your easy perhaps?”

How subtle. Ever since he finished his essay (overachiever much?), he’s been on my ass about mine. Even if I actually had it finished, there’s no way in Hell I’ll be letting him see this – let alone hear me read it out loud – until I have to.

“Dude. I’ve told you like eighty times now. I hate presenting stuff. I’m not doing it any more than I have to. Being in front of everyone, having them all stare at me- judging me? Fuck that. Once is enough. I don’t need you judging me too.”

“You honestly think I’m going to judge you? I don’t buy it. You’re Michael Clifford. You don’t give a shit about what other people think about you.”

I can’t help but laugh out loud. If only he knew.

“Well, when I’m putting myself out there in front of a whole room of people then yeah, I’m going to give a shit about what they think.”

“Putting yourself out there? Mate, it’s an essay. You sure you’re not just making up excuses to cover up the fact that you haven’t started writing it yet?”

Calum runs his finger through his hair, and I try not to stare. Why did he have to come to my school again, be in my class again, make my heart ache again. I feel like this time is worse. Being this close, not being able to touch him in the ways I want. Is this some horrible karma for complaining about longing? I shake my head at the joke that I call my love life and push past it like I always do.

“Maybe, but I guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

He throws a pillow at me and tells me to shut up before beginning to read his presentation yet again.

. . .

As I approach Calum’s door, I look down at the folded mess of papers in my hands and decide to quickly shove them into my backpack to make sure he doesn’t try to take them and read my shitty essay beforehand.

I pull my bag off my back and drop to my knees to put the papers away. I finish zipping it up and throw it over my shoulder as I hear the door open in front of me. I look up and see an eye full of Calum’s junk. My eyes widen and I can feel my cheeks heat up as I quickly look away and stand up. I try not to look at his face and pray that my cheeks aren’t as red as they feel.

“At least buy me dinner first. Damn.” He laughs. The sound melts my worries away. Mostly.

“Fuck off. We’re going to be late.” I give him a shove and begin walking to the exit.

Walking with one another to our classes has become a part of our daily routine. Calum decided so about a month ago when he found out that I tripped and scrapped my elbow and knee open like a child while running to make it on time for one of my 8AM classes. So now he seems to think that I can’t manage walking to class by myself. I mean, I’m not complaining. I’ll take any time that I can get with him until inevitably ruin the best friendship I’ve ever had.

As we walk, Calum is -of course- rehearsing his presentation again. I sigh and think about the essay sitting in my bag and how he’s going to react to hearing it. Maybe he’ll just drop the class and ghost me. God that will hurt... Maybe I should just fake sick, or say I never finished my part of the project, or-

My spiraling thoughts are cut short by Calum opening the classroom door and I admit defeat. The two of us sit at our table still -sadly- located at the front of the room. As we sit down, I watch Calum pull out his papers and read them over as if he didn’t just prove that he’s got it memorized by reciting it on our walk over. I set up my laptop and shove my papers under it, quickly checking back to Calum to make sure he hasn’t noticed. I exhale softly and wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans before opening our Spotify playlist, preparing it for our presentation.

A dread-filed hour and a half passes as I listen to the other groups make their presentations and read through their playlists to try and distract myself.

“Group seven, you’re up.”

My blood goes cold and I feel like I can’t move. I feel Calum swiftly kick my shin under the table.

“That’s us. Get up.” He whispers

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I want to be back at home in my bed. I don’t want this. I don’t want to lose my friend. Why did I have to take this class? Why couldn’t I have been assigned anger. Why didn’t I just sit with those two girls that first day?

“Mike, it’ll be okay. I’ll be up there with you the whole time.” That’s half the problem, Calum.

I sigh deeply and open my eyes. They stay glued to the table as I pick up my laptop and the messy pile of papers underneath it. I walk slowly behind Calum to the front of the room and stop at the podium. I quickly plug my laptop into the screen behind us as he introduces the both of us to the class and begins to talk about the emotions we were assigned before launching into how they relate to one another and briefly talking about our playlist. I feel slightly reassured as he begins to recite the speech that I pretty much have memorized myself at this point. I allow myself to zone out to the sound of his voice as I wait for my cue.

“… and to me that is what love is to me. Family.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I rub my sweaty palms on my jeans again and pick up my papers with trembling hands. Closing my eyes again, I take another deep breath and open them once finished. Here goes everything.

“I- um- I’m Michael and I uh… I was assigned the emotion longing. When I first read the small paper and saw I had longing, I was confused and upset that my partner had such an easy emotion to talk about and I um… I had something as complex as longing…” I look over to Calum and he gives me a reassuring smile and my heart skips a beat. “Until he helped me realize that longing is pretty much the universal emotion. It branches into every emotion you can think of. It powers them and really brings the depth to them. Once I had realized this, the only issue I had was choosing which emotional experience to talk about. This itself seemed to be an impossible choice, so I’ve decided to talk about an experience that, like longing, incorporates every emotion. Heartbreak. My chosen song for this was No Idea by All Time Low. Song number…” I quickly look over at our playlist and count the sounds out to make sure I’m right before continuing, “seven on our playlist.”

I press play and I continue over the quiet music, telling the story of a young Michael who was in love with a boy that never knew he existed. A boy who broke his heart without ever even speaking to him. A boy who he was still desperately in love with, years later. A never-ending tale of longing.

Once the longest five minutes of my life had passed, I quickly unplug my laptop and hurry back to our table, avoiding eye contact with Calum the entire way back. I grab my books and shove them along with my laptop and essay into my bag. I damage my papers even more by doing so, but I could care less.

Throwing my backpack over my shoulder, I leave the room as I hear Calum call out after me. There’s no way he’ll catch up to me. Besides, my Sound Tech class was cancelled today, so even if he does manage to catch up, I won’t be there.

I finally make it back to my room without encountering Calum and I toss my bag onto my chair and dive face first into my bed to wait out the impending consequences for ambushing my best friend in the middle of a room full of people. Why did I do that. Fuck me.

. . . 

Calum had been planning a party over the last few weeks to celebrate us finishing our project. I had told him time and time again that ‘finishing a project’ is the lamest reason to throw a party. But yet, here I am, in my room surrounded by the pulsating beats of music blasting down the dorm hall.

I’ve managed to avoid Calum for the past four days since the most embarrassing moment of my life. He’s tried texting and calling me too many times to count, and he even showed up to my dorm room twice. I, of course, pretended to be asleep both times.

So, I know it has to be Calum banging repeatedly on my door, throwing off the steady beats of music.

“Mike, it’s Calum. Can I come in?” I hear him shout through the door over the music.

I get up and turn the light off before returning to my desk to continue trying to focus on the game on my computer and pretending I’m not here.

“Mate! I saw you turn your light off! Michael! Open the door!”

The banging persists and my head sinks lower and lower into my shoulders. Go away. Please. I don’t want to hurt. Not tonight. Please.

“I’m not leaving! Maybe I’ll just ask one of those art kids for a sculpting knife and cut your door down! HA! You couldn’t avoid me if I did that! You wouldn’t even have a door to lock!” He slurs half of his words and it’s becoming clear that he’s drunk, and drunk Calum doesn’t quit.

I drop my head onto the desk and breathe deeply for a minute, listening to him yell at me through the door, before getting up and walking over to the sound. I pause there for a moment and prepare for the worst.

As soon as I open the door, Calum falls backwards onto my floor. How in the Hell…

“What do you want Calum? I’m busy.”

He stumbles back to his feet, swaying softly while he regains his balance in the centre of my dark room.

“You’re busy? You’re busy. That’s why you’ve been avoiding me for a week? Cause you’re busy?! Fuck off Michael.”

I say nothing as I lean against my open door, waiting for him to get this over with, so I can shut it behind him and go back to my self-loathing.

“Answer me!”

Clearly the silent treatment isn’t working here. I glance at the hallway full of people, some who have begun to stare at the two of us. I grit my teeth and shut the door, letting the darkness engulf my room, leaving only the light of my computer screen allowing us to see one another as we stand together in the center of the room.

“What the Hell do you want me to say?!”

“Well for starters, how about you tell me why the fuck you’ve been avoiding me?”

“I haven’t been-“

“Fuck off. You have, and you know it. Now tell me why.”

I shake my head and adjust my weight from foot to foot, shrugging to come up with an excuse.

“Oh. My. God. You’re impossible!” He pauses for a moment and takes a deep breath before I watch his posture soften. “Is this about what you said in your essay?”

I go stiff and remind myself to breathe.

“I knew it! At first, I didn’t think that was it, but it fucking was! Why are you avoiding me? Do you think I’m against your sexuality or some shit? Is that why you won’t talk to me? Cause that’s not true! You never even asked me about what I thought about it. About your feelings for me. How I would feel. About my feelings for- about your sexuality. Your sexuality, yeah... You just never asked me.” His face reddens at the last part, probably from lack of air after that speech.

I listen as he drunkenly rambles at me and try to think of something to say. How can he be right? He can’t be. I shouldn’t have to explain myself or my sexuality to him. Why would it matter what he thought about my sexuality?

“Your opinion of my sexuality isn’t needed Calum.” I say, shaking my head.

He sighs harshly and rubs his temples before stomping his foot. Did he actually just stop his foot? Is he five?

“Michael. That’s not what I’m saying! Listen to me! You’re so busy thinking about yourself and your feelings that you’re missing the bigger picture! You’re not the only person in this situation!”

“Oh, I’m sorry Calum. I’m so sorry my feelings were an inconvenience for you! You wanna talk about it? Let’s talk about it! Have my feelings for you ruined your college experience? Have my feelings for you kept you up every night? Have my feelings for you broken your heart?!”

He is silent for a moment before closing his eyes. His body sways softly as he runs his hands through his hair.

“No-” He sighs deeply before replying quietly, “your feelings for me didn’t do any of those things to me. Mine did.”

He opens his eyes and the light of the computer screen highlights the beautiful features of his skin as his words sink into mine.

I stand there with my jaw dropped, staring at the man in front of me. Did he just say… No. No. This is a sick joke. I feel a lump form in my throat begin to form.

“That’s not funny Calum.” I choke out softly.

“I’m not joking.”

“You’re straight.”

“I’m not! I’m Bisexual.” His cheeks redden softly in the pale blue light.

I stare at him in disbelief. He’s got to be drunk out of his mind to lie like this.

“You’re straight.” I repeat in an attempt to both reassure myself and convince him to stop the lies.

He runs his hands through his hair again and lets out an exasperated groan.

“Michael! Fuck! Why won’t you ever listen! I like you! I’ve been trying to tell you ever since you came out to me on the way to that shitty party. I only stopped myself cause you said you didn’t have feelings for me anymore. I’m bisexual Michael! Why do you think I went to Prom with Timothy?”

“That- that was just a stag thing…”

“I wasn’t ready to come out yet. Neither was he.”

He takes a step closer to me, making me overly aware of how small my dorm room actually is. I can smell his cologne and the alcohol -tequila? Yeah, tequila- wafting off him as the space between our bodies lessens.

“So, you’re… bisexual?”

The relief is visible as it washes over him. He smiles softly and takes another step towards me.

“And you… uh… you like me?”

“You wanna talk about it?” He whispers as his eyes drop to my lips.

“Calum, I-”

Before I can finish whatever stupid thing I was going to say, I feel his hands grab my face and his lips crash into mine. I close my eyes and return the kiss. My hands find their way into his hair as he pushes his body against mine. His hand leaves my cheek and finds its way up the back of my shirt, pulling my body impossibly closer to his.

This is more than I’ve ever dreamt of. Calum Hood. Calum Hood kissing me. His hair is softer than I could have ever imagined. I can taste the tequila on his tongue as it slips ever so slightly in between my lips and I suddenly remember how drunk he is. It takes every part of me to pull away and break the kiss.

“Calum. You’re drunk. I can’t.”

“I can.” He steps towards me with a slightly needy expression in his eyes.

“Calum.” I repeat sternly and step away, my back pressing against the door.

He lets out a defeated sigh as he turns around and walks over to the drawer where I keep my snacks.

“Do you have any bread?”

“I- uh… what?... Maybe, why?”

“I want to sober up so you’ll kiss me again.”

I laugh softly and walk over to help him look.

. . .

I wake up to the feeling of something heavy laying across my face. As I open my eyes and adjust my sights to the room around me, I realize the heavy thing on my face is actually Calum’s arm. The events of last night come back to me like a hurricane. Calum arriving at my dorm room drunk, Calum coming out to me as bisexual and confessing his feelings for me… Calum kissing me, and finally, Calum falling asleep beside me while waiting to sober up… I would say it was a dream, but I now have a red, arm-shaped mark on my face to prove otherwise.

I peel his arm off my head and his eyes shoot open, making me jump a little. I watch as he looks around the room and stops once his eyes meet mine. He smiles sweetly at me.

“Hi.” He says, his voice deep and raspy from just waking up.

“Hey there.” I whisper back.

“Guess what.”

“What.”

He smirks at me as his hand finds its way to my cheek and his body shifts towards mine.

“I think I’m finally sober.”

I exhale as my body relaxes from the tension and worry I didn’t realize I had about last night. I chew on my bottom lip as I wait for him to do something.

His eyes explore my face before slowing down at my lips just as they did last night. He blinks slowly and as his eyes open, I find them looking into mine again. He smiles softly as he closes them once more and leans forward, connecting his lips to mine. His pillowy lips kiss mine softly for the best minute of my life, and when he pulls away, he takes my breath with him. I am utterly awestruck by his beauty and the feeling of his lips on mine.

“How about you and I go on to dinner later and get to know the real us? No more assumptions and no more secrets.”

I nod and smile widely.

“I thought you’d never ask.” I agree as he grins before kissing me again.

[korra-the-red-lion]

Unnatural Affairs. Chapter 11: So Not The Drama.

(Ally)

Sitting in Drama class was not the way I ideally wanted to start my Monday with, but here I was.

My Anthropology class was cancelled after my professor literally just didn’t show up. We waited for about 10 minutes out of our 50-minute class before we all just left. She never gave us an explanation, and I wasn’t going to complain.

I sat next to Michael and Mags as we sat in the auditorium. Our prof, Kinkly, booked it for the class just so we could present our drama re-enactments. Michael told me before Mags got here that he was feeling a little better. He certainly looked a little better. He was just confused as to why the crystals didn’t work in protecting us. I brushed it off as it being stronger than expected, not having the heart to say it was probably all bogus.

Mags clutched their stomach and whispered, “I’m feeling so nervous all of a sudden.”

“I’ve been nervous this whole time,” muttered Michael. I nodded in agreement. The three of us watched as a few of the other students awkwardly stumbled through their own lines, which was a very relatable mood right now. I should have just written the damned paper. Argh, curse friendship and the stupid decisions it brought along.

Unfortunately, it was our turn next. We timidly clomped down to the main stage and got to work. We decided to have Mags play Julie, to change the dynamic slightly. In the original play, Julie is told by her mother to behave like a man, causing her a bunch of confusion. I was playing Jean, who is kind of using Julie to climb the social ladder, who was originally a man. Michael was the one who was reading the scene, and he also played the servant. Anyway, the whole thing just felt super awkward, and we just wanted to get it over with.

Time felt like it dragged on forever as we worked through our lines in the clumsy way students who never have done this before do. Finally, it was over, and we retreated back to the safety of our seats.

Mags ran a hand through their hair, messing up the stylized look they had going on. “Okay, I’m pretty sure that was awful.”

“Worse than awful,” I whined.

“Totally,” affirmed Michael.

“At least it’s over now,” I pointed out. “We never have to embarrass ourselves in front of the public like that ever again.”

They both nodded in agreement, and we just suffered through the rest of the class. Finally, it was over (THANK GOD), and I packed my things quickly. We said goodbye to Professor Kinkly, who was in the middle of speaking to Rachel McDurmant about something. My ribs were starting to ache as my morning painkillers wore off, and I was craving some lunch.

We all walked together towards the lunchroom, joking about the horrible play and how Thanksgiving weekend was coming up. Mags told us that they were leaving early for the long weekend because their partner was visiting from out of province, so they wanted an extra couple of days with him. Michael was staying because his family lived out in BC, and it was too expensive for him to fly out only for a couple of days. I was going home, but I wasn’t leaving until all my classes were done on Friday.

I felt a little guilty about leaving when we were in the middle of investigating whatever the hell was going on here, but I wasn’t about to sacrifice my holiday break for this. Besides, most students were going home anyway, so maybe it would be safer anyway. Well, that was the lie I told myself anyway, to make me feel a little better about going. I even offered Michael to come for supper, and he said he would think about it. His headaches were still pretty bad, and he thought it might help to just take a very relaxing weekend off in the darkness of his dorm room.

Mags spotted a spot that was free and made a beeline for it, with me and Michael following slowly behind. I gingerly sat down, hissing under my breath. Mags was just about to dig in when they stopped to look at me in concern.

“Is everything okay, Ally?”

I smiled with a nod. “Yup, just a little sore.”

“How come?”

That was a great question. I glanced over at Michael, who was poking at his food tenderly. He must have been feeling nauseous again. “Um…we went camping this weekend with a friend of ours,” I lied, turning my attention back to Mags’ watchful stare. “We got attacked by a bear, and I bruised my ribs trying to get away.” Michael nodded in confirmation as I explained the false story.

“Whoa, what the hell? Why didn’t you tell me before?” they asked indignantly.

“I didn’t want to worry you.”

“Well, now I’m worried, so mission failed!”

I frowned, my cheeks heating up with shame. “I’m sorry, Mags. I wasn’t keeping it a secret on purpose or anything. I just haven’t really told anyone about it.”

Mags crossed their arms, a look of momentary hurt on their face. “I get it…just let me know next time, okay? What if something more serious happened?”

“I promise,” I said with my hand held high. “Scout’s honour and all that jazz.” Mags looked satisfied enough and began to eat as they talked about our English class. It felt a little dirty to be lying to my friend, but I just really didn’t want to explain the whole ‘I’m a freak of a nature who talks to ghosts’ right now.

After a mostly satisfying lunch (I was starting to get tired of the food here), I headed over to library on my break as Mags headed to their next class and Michael went back to his dorm to lie down for a little while. I took a picture of Harper, which was right next to the library, before heading in. I was trying to decide if I wanted to talk to Amelia before or after break, plus I wanted to compare the building as it was now to what it was before. I was feeling like talking to her sooner would be better, but I was still tired and jittery from the Athletic Centre incident, so I wasn’t sure how ready I was to talk to an unknown ghost again.

The warmth of the library was welcomed as it hit my face and hands. I haven’t been able to stay warm since that night, and it wasn’t even that cold out today. I wanted to find a table, but I decided to grab a warm drink before I did. I was about to grab myself a tea when I had a tingling feeling in my gut. Confused, I looked over my shoulder to see someone approaching me.

It was Lyn’s friend from move in day. Shoot, what was her name again? I knew it started with an L…Lorie? No, that wasn’t right. Hmm, oh, it was Loryn! She stopped well enough away that I wasn’t uncomfortable with the distance. She was the one who noticed the first time how nervous I was on day one.

“Hey…” she frowned. “Crap, I’m sorry. I legit can’t remember your name.”

“Ally,” I reached out my hand. She gave me a firm shake.

“Loryn. Can we have a quick chat?”

I blinked in confusion, a squirming feeling working its way into my belly. “Umm…about what, exactly? We don’t really know each other.”

She sighed in exasperation. “I know, sorry. I…fuck, I probably shouldn’t be doing this because she’s gonna be so pissed at me. I just wanted to talk about Lyn for a minute.”

Oh. I had to admit, I was a little curious about that. I could see on her face that she looked a little worried, and judging by how tense her body language was, this wasn’t a recent development. Finally, I nodded and followed her to the corner of the café.

Once we sat down, I really took her in. She had a narrow face with long brown hair (did all the girls on the swim team have long hair?) that was currently held back in a braid and muddy brown eyes hidden behind long lashes. Her nose was slightly off center, so it must have been broken once before. She was working her jaw as she worked up the courage to talk about what she planned to. I waited patiently as she did, since there was no point in rushing someone to speak. If you did try to rush them, it only made them less likely to open up.

“So,” she started slowly, “Ally. Lyn and you met up the other night, right?” She waited for my confirmation before continuing. “I know you haven’t known each other long, but it seems like you connected really fast, which is super duper awesome. I’m really happy that she found someone who she trusted,” she stopped again, gathering her thoughts.

Loryn looked at me, her face serious. “I saw her arm this morning. I asked her what the hell happened, and she told me she went camping with you and some dude named Michael and got attacked by a bear. I’ve only known Lyn for just over a year at this point, but I know when she’s lying to me. She’s terrible at it. I wanna know what happened.”

I shifted in my seat uncomfortably. “That’s what happened. She pushed me out of the way, so I didn’t get hurt.”

Loryn sucked on her teeth as she shook her head. “Fine, whatever then. Did she tell you she was going home this weekend?”

It felt a little strange that she dropped it so quickly, but I had a feeling Loryn wasn’t done with the subject quite yet. The look in her eye was very overprotective. I didn’t want to antagonize her further, so I answered her other question with an affirmative.

“Oh, for the love of fucking God…” she muttered darkly to herself. She picked at her nail as she glanced at me. “How much do you know?”

“Enough,” I said cautiously. “I briefly met Olivia when she drove us to the hospital.”

Loryn rolled her eye as she sighed. “Perfect. Okay, well, I know you care about Lyn. Just…if you’re hanging around her, just to make sure she doesn’t retreat into herself too much, okay? She hasn’t been sleeping well since Jackie got hurt and I’m worried this is just going to make it all so much worse. Lyn would take on the whole world if she could but won’t share how much it weighs. Like seriously, she doesn’t ask for help and doesn’t like talking about her issues with other people. I practically have to pry it out of her when something is bothering her.”

I nodded slowly as I unlaced my fingers. “Why are you telling me all this?”

“Because Lyn likes you,” Loryn said with a shrug, “like a lot. I don’t want to see either of you get hurt because she decides to act like a stupid ass. If she does end up going home, which I strongly suggest we work together to convince her to not do that, she might be different when she gets back. Her mom especially brings out the worst in her.”

“She mentioned something like that,” I mused. I forced that giddy feeling I got from hearing Loryn say that Lyn liked me a lot down, paying attention to the topic on hand.

Loryn got up, stretched and tossed her braid behind her shoulder. “Okay, well…I guess that was it. Sorry if I seemed pushy or whatever. I just worry about that big dummy.”

“It’s fine,” I said firmly, and I meant it.

Loryn thanked me and left me alone to dwell on the conversation. It was very strange. Was she really that worried about Lyn that she was talking to anyone close to her? I chewed on my bottom lip, thinking. There was probably more to the story than I know. I didn’t know Lyn in first year, Loryn did. Something must have happened last year that was causing a level of concern in Loryn about her going home. I guess I could try to talk her out of it, but I doubt it would make any difference. Lyn seemed liked the kind of person who once her mind was made up, there was no changing it. It wouldn’t hurt to try though, right?

XXX

The rest of the week was going by slowly.

I didn’t really see Lyn much this week. She was busy with her classes and assignments, plus she was practicing still, even though she wasn’t supposed to be. She did call me every night before she went to bed, however.

It started on Saturday, when she said she would call me later that day. She held on to that promise, checking in to see how I was doing. We spoke for a little before she hung up so she could sleep. But then she called me again Sunday night. We didn’t really talk about much of anything, just random things like music, TV, classes or whatever. Sometimes I could hear her typing or writing in her notebook, suggesting that she was at the library. Other times I could hear the shuffling of clothes or maybe blankets, which I thought meant she was in her room. It always happened around 8:30, and never went past 9:30. It was nice and relaxing. I wasn’t sure why she started doing it, but I didn’t mind it at all. If anything, I started to look forward to it. Just listening to her talk relaxed me, and I found myself sleeping better.

Michael started feeling a little better by Wednesday. According to him, the doctor said he would be fully recovered between a week or two. He was reporting less pounding headaches and lights were bothering him less. I told him about Amelia and how she wasn’t the ghost in the Athletic Centre, but in fact the ghost who bothered him in his dream.

We were sitting outside, sitting on one of the benches as we stared at Harper. Michael scratched at his chin thoughtfully. “Okay, so we were wrong. Should we talk to her?”

I frowned, giving a noncommittal shrug. “I mean, yes? I just don’t know if I’m ready to do that just yet.”

“You know what? That’s totally valid,” said Michael. “My head is killing me from the last ghostly conversation we had. Oh!” A dawning look of sudden remembrance lit up Michael’s face. “I just remembered something! You know how you were talking to the ghost in the mirror?”

“I’m not likely to forget anytime soon,” I shuddered.

“Me either. Anyway, something I didn’t think about at the time, but it just occurred to me now; I could see her.”

The weight of those words came on slowly as I digested what he said. I looked over at him, his eyes showing some concern and curiosity. I tapped my finger against my knee, resisting the urge to chew on my lip.

“You…could see her?” I swallowed thickly. “But you never could do that before.”

“I know, but I think the crystals had something to do with it,” he explained. “The ones I gave to you were supposed to increase your spiritual awareness or whatever. So maybe what it did was do just that, but instead of affecting you, since your awareness is pretty much at its peak, it affected those around you. Like me. Oh, and Lyn too.”

I blinked a few times before whistling quietly. “That’s probably something I should look into a bit more.”

Michael nodded. “I think so too. Also, I sent in the sample today. Hopefully we’ll get the results sometime after Thanksgiving.”

“Oh, that’s good to know. I wonder what those results are going to reveal.”

“Hopefully it was human DNA.”

“Hopefully.”

We both sat silently for a couple of minutes, still staring at the haunted school building. Michael chewed on his nail absentmindedly, clearly lost in thought. I played with a button on my shirt, wondering if I should just suck it up and talk to Amelia. I needed to stop letting my more careful emotions control me. Shaking my head, I opened my purse and pulled out nail polish. I tapped Michael on the shoulder, who looked over when I did. I lift the bottle to line up with his eyesight.

“You should use this to help with that,” I said, indicating his bitten hands.

Michael took it from me with curiosity. “Nail polish?”

“It will make your nails taste disgusting, so you’ll stop chewing them,” I explained.

“Interesting.” Michael held it up, examining it. “Women sure do have a lot of sneaky tricks that men should take up more often. Otousan chews his nails too, I get it from him.”

I smiled playfully. “The world would be a much better place if men listened to women more often.”

He smirked back at me. “And if we listened to less white people.”

“Touché.”

After that, it was time for class. I really didn’t feel like feel like going to my class, but I forced myself to go anyway. I was paying to go here, so I should make the most of it, I suppose. I shot one last guilty look at Harper as I walked away. Maybe I should try to talk to her before Thanksgiving.

Gosh, I needed to stop getting to invested in all of this.

XXX

It was Thursday evening when I finally got the chance to talk to Lyn in person.

It was purely accidental. I was just about to leave the library when I decided to check to see if she was here tonight. I went downstairs and she was sitting at the table that I found her at the last time. She had her headphones on, tunelessly humming along to whatever she was listening to. I stopped just before, sending a text for her to see first. I spooked her last time, and I didn’t want to do that again.

The screen was lighting up her face as she typed something quickly into her open Word doc. She must have felt her phone vibrate, because she reached for it without taking her eyes off the screen as she switched to a different tab with her other hand. She glanced at her phone before she turned around in her chair, smiling when she saw me. Lyn waved me over, pulling out the free chair.

“Hey,” she greeted when I sat.

“Hey to you too,” I said back. “What are you up to?”

“Writing a paper,” she yawned. “I wanted to get it most of done before the holiday break, you know?”

I stifled a giggle. “Actually, I don’t. I’m pretty bad at keeping on top of things at times.”

“Wish I had the nerve to do that,” said Lyn. “I don’t think I’ve ever missed a due date, if I actually think about it.” She paused, making an uncomfortable face before switching topics. “Are you going home for the break? I haven’t asked yet.”

“I am, tomorrow after class,” I said happily. “Are you?”

“I told Olivia I was,” she grumbled.

I remembered my conversation with Loryn. I nodded slowly, leaning on the table. “Are…are you actually planning on going, though? You don’t seem too happy about it.”

Lyn frowned, before she shrugged her shoulders. “I promised Olivia.”

“But you don’t have to, right?”

She looked away, tapping her finger against the table. Her brows were drawn together as she thought about her answer. “I just…after last week, and this,” she gestured to her left arm, “I just felt like maybe I should make an effort to get along with Liv again. I don’t really want to go all that much. Last year when I did, shit hit the fan for me. But, I dunno, learning about all these poor people that are stuck here because they can’t move on, it got me thinking. Even if it’s only one person I can try to fix my relationship with, I think it’s worth it. Olivia might piss me off, but she’s still my sister. She fucking came and got us in the middle of the night, so I know she still cares about me enough to do that.”

That was actually not a terrible reason, but I was still wary of it. I tapped my foot against hers, causing her look over at me. I give her a supportive smile. “Lyn, I’m not going to tell you what the right decision is. Just make sure that you’re making this choice because you want to, not because you think it’s the right thing to do. I’m terrible for doing things just because I feel like it’s the right thing to do, as exhibited by me trying to figure out this whole ghost thing.”

Her eyes searched my face before she chuckled under breath softly. I was confused, that wasn’t the reaction I was expecting. She leaned back in the chair, pulling her leg up and lacing her fingers around her knee.

“Ally, I seriously don’t know what to think about you. You’re like a super PI therapist lady,” she laughed again.

My face flushed with embarrassment. “I-I wasn’t trying to-”

“It’s good,” she cut me off. “It’s cute. You’re cute, for caring. I promise that I’m doing this of my own free will.”

“A-as long as you’re sure,” I mumbled. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt.” My face was still red from her laughing at me, plus her freaking comment too! I really wanted to be like please go out with me! I think you’re so nice and attractive and funny and the list goes on for while. But I was nervous. I dated a couple of girls in high school, but they all ended rather quickly. I didn’t want to ruin what I had with Lyn, but the messages I was getting told me it was okay. Yes, she was flirty and affectionate, but this was different, I just knew it.

I looked at her over top of my frames. She was still smiling at me with her ridiculously infectious grin, her eyes looking like they were shining brightly. Was it okay? Was it okay to fall for someone so quickly? Without thinking, my hand reached over and touched the back of hers. My heart felt like it was in my throat, and it was pounding so loud.

The energy in here could only be described as nervous. I pushed my chair over just a little bit closer with my feet, my fingers tracing her knuckles softly. Lyn watched as I did, almost as if she were entranced by the motions. I parted my lips, fully prepared to ask but no words came out.

“Ally,” Lyn said softly as she removed one of her hands to cover mine, “I have something I wanted to ask you.”

I nodded nervously as our eyes connect, the look in hers serious yet kind.

She took a deep breath in, only to be interrupted by her phone ringing. It startled us both so badly that I jumped back, and Lyn knocked her chair backwards, falling to the ground. Groaning, she pushed herself up and grabbed her phone off the table. “I don’t know this fucking number,” she growled as she hung up.

“A-a-are you okay?” I stammered, reaching down to help her to her feet. All the tension from earlier was starting to subside.

“Yeah, I’m fine, mostly just annoyed,” she said irritably.

The phone rang again with the same number. Lyn glared at the screen before ending the call again. When it rang the third time, she was pretty annoyed. She finally hit the green answer button and snapped, “Hello?”

I picked up the chair as she stoically listened to the person on the phone. All of sudden Lyn got very quiet as she stood there on the phone, her face slowly going from annoyed to concerned. She glanced over at me and silently handed me the phone. I took it from her confused and put it to my ear.

“Hello?”

There was a staticky silence on the other end. I looked over at Lyn, wondering if it was a prank call when someone whispered, “It’s coming.”

My heart felt like it dropped into my stomach. The voice had the tinniness of a ghost. But, how? “Who are you?” I asked tensely, my free hand clenching my shirt.

“It’s coming. It’s coming for-” there was a bloodcurdling screech all of sudden that caused me to drop the phone in surprise and a little bit of fear. I quickly picked it up again, but the call was done.

I stared at the blank screen for several taunt minutes, trying to figure out what that was. I looked over at Lyn, who was watching me with concern.

“Did they tell you to give me the phone?”

She nodded tentatively. “All I heard was your name over and over again. Should I…not have done that?”

“It’s fine,” I assured her. I looked back down at the phone. “It was a ghost. I think it was trying to warn me about something.”

“How very modern of it,” Lyn remarked dryly as she took her phone back.

“It was very strange,” I said quietly. Lyn went to the table to close her laptop as I continued, “I’ve never heard of them doing that before. Also, it means that they’re aware I’m looking into the case. That’s really disturbing to me.”

Lyn, who was in the middle of putting both of our things away, grimaced at me. “No offence, Al, but that’s extremely creepy. If they can call you from the afterlife or whatever, how are you safe anywhere?”

I didn’t really have an answer for that. I looked down at my shoes, my mind racing with various scenarios of being accosted wherever I went now. It was extremely creepy, as Lyn so bluntly put it. I scrunched more of my shirt in my hands, trying very hard to not get overwhelmed with this development. Suddenly, Lyn reached over and grabbed one of my hands, gently removing the glob of cloth beneath my grasp.

“We’ll figure something out,” she said confidently. “Let’s not worry about that tonight, okay? You got home to look forward to, yeah? Turkey dinner, awkward family get togethers where your uncle does some stupid shit, regular scheduled TV programs because we’re not obsessed with the holiday like Americans are.” She smiled at me, but I could see the tension in her eyes. Numbly, I nodded.

We left the library after that, with Lyn stating that we were no longer allowed to meet on the lower floors of the library at night, because that was the second time something creepy happened. I had a sneaking suspicion that since Amelia’s ghost was so close to the area that she or something similar to her had something to do with it. Still, I didn’t disagree with the thought.

As usual, Lyn walked me back all the way to my residence. I walked up the steps and reached for the door, then a thought occurred to me. Before I went inside, I turned to look at Lyn who was waiting until I was safely in. She tilted her head in minor curiosity at my hesitancy.

“What was it you were going to ask me?” I asked quietly, my hand trembling by my side in anxious anticipation.

Lyn stiffened. She laughed nervously, tugging on her ear lobe. “Um, yeah. I was about to ask something, wasn’t I?” She laughed again. Under the softly lit outside lamps, it was hard to make out her full expression, but I could see by her body language she was struggling to come up with the words. Instead, she took a couple of steps to close the distance. I gasped as she reached out to cusp my face in her hands, her ears and face just as red as I bet mine was.

She kissed my forehead, before slipping something on my head. My heart felt like it was going to explode out of my chest as she slipped her hands off, instead clasping them with mine. “I’ll tell you after break, okay?” Lyn whispered softly. “I don’t think now is the time after what just happened. Stay safe, stay warm, eh? I-I’ll see you in a few days.”

I nodded dumbly, not trusting my voice right now. I was certain it would come out in a squeak. Lyn gave me a nervous smile before kissing the back of my hand in goodbye. I felt like I was floating as I went inside, drifting absently to my room. I struggled with the lock on our door before I finally managed to get my key in after the 5th try.

Sarah looked up from her phone as I walked in, her face going from confused to elated in a manner of seconds. “Oh my God, Ally! Your face! It’s like, so red! What happened?” she asked with a squeal as she led me to sit on her bed.

Finally, my brain caught up to the rest of my body, and I ended up bursting out into a mix of excited laughter and screeching. I explained everything to Sarah giddily (without the spooky ghost stuff of course), who responded with equal excitement. I reached up and pulled what turned out to be a different hat then last time off my head, my grin getting even bigger.

I fell back on her bed with an oomph, smiling up at the ceiling. “Sarah, I’m seriously so happy right now. I can’t even picture it, but I can at the same time! Lyn is so amazing and at first I thought I was reading the signals wrong, but this has to be legit!” I squeezed the hat between my hands and sighed happily. “Why else wouldn’t she tell me right away? She’s waiting until the moment’s right!”

Sarah laid beside me, a mischievous grin on her face. “Ally-gator, remember what you told me?”

I stared at her with interest. “I’ve told you a lot of things.”

“Yeah, I know, but this is like, a big thing,” she giggled. “You guys had breakfast, like, the second day or whatever, right? She told you could like, ask her one thing, anything. I think you should totally like, ask her first!”

My jaw fell open in surprise. I can’t believe Sarah remembered that. I pushed myself up on my elbow to get a better look at her. “I mean, that sounds fantastic in theory, but I don’t know if I can pull it off…” I ran my hand along the top of her covers.

“You totally can!” Sarah poked me in the forehead. “It doesn’t need to be this like, super huge thing. Just be like, ‘oh hey, remember when you said I could ask you one thing? Will you go out with me?’” she batted her eyelashes with her hands clasped together. “Just like that!”

I laughed, smacking her with one of her own pillows. “I don’t sound like that! Also, I could never be so straightforward, that’s so nerve wracking!”

“Okay, okay!” She held up her arms to protect herself from my pillow onslaught. “I still think you should, like, make the first move though! It’d be iconic!”

“Maybe,” I mused. “I’ll think about it.”

“You better!”

We both ended up being way too hyped to go to sleep after that, so we put on a movie to relax too. I held on to that hat for the rest of the night, all thoughts of ghosts and creepy phone calls just melting away as I lost myself in the bliss of having my super intense crush reciprocated. I’ve been a little distracted by the case recently, so it sorta took a back burner for awhile. But it was in the hospital, with the sunlight shining and the peaceful look on her freckled face that it came back full force.

I let myself drift off, my chest full of warmth and happy feelings.

[vitalmindandbody]

‘It was quasi-religious’: the great self-esteem con

In the 1980 s, Californian legislator John Vasconcellos set up a task force that promoted high-pitched self-esteem as the answer to social ailments. But was his science based on a lie?

In 2014, a heartwarming character sent to year 6 students at Barrowford primary school in Lancashire exited viral. Handed out with their Key Stage 2 exam upshots, it reassured them: These research do not ever assess all of what it is that realize each of you special and unique They do not know that your best friend count on you to be there for them or that your laugh can brighten the dreariest era. They do not know that you write poetry or songs, participate boasts, wonder about the future, or that sometimes you take care of your fucking brother or sister.

At Barrowford, parties learned, teaches were deterred from questioning beatings, characterizing small children as naughty and promoting their voices. The institutions guiding logic, said headteacher Rachel Tomlinson, was that kids were to be treated with unconditional positive regard.

A little more than a year later, Barrowford obtained itself in the news again. Ofsted had given the school one of its lowest possible ratings, find the quality of education and exam outcomes insufficient. The institution, their report spoke, emphasised developing pupils emotional and social wellbeing more than the achievements of quality standards. Somehow, it seemed, the nurturing of self-esteem had not be converted into higher achievement.

The shortcoming hitherto virulent notion that, in order to thrive, people need to be treated with unconditional positivity first gained traction in the late 80 s. Since then, the self-esteem crusade has helped transform the behavior we parent our children prioritising their appears of self-worth, telling them they are special and amazing, and cocooning them from everyday consequences.

One manifestation of this has been grade inflation. In 2012, the chief executive of British exams regulator Ofqual admitted the value of GCSEs and -Alevels had been gnawn by years of prolonged point inflation. In the US, between the late 60 s and 2004, the proportion of first time university students claiming an A median in high school has increased from 18% to 48%, despite the fact that SAT scores had actually fallen. Nothing of this, alleges Keith Campbell, prof of psychology at the University of Georgia and expert on narcissism, provides our children well. Burning yourself on a stave is really useful in telling you where you stand, he speaks, but we live in a world-wide of accolades for everyone. Fourteenth region ribbon. I am not making this substance up. My daughter got one.

Campbell, with his colleague Jean Twenge at San Diego State University, has argued that this kind of parenting and teaching have led to a discernible rise in narcissism: witness the selfie-snapping millennials. Although their findings are disputed, Twenge points to other investigate done in the US and beyond twenty-two contemplates or tests[ that] demonstrate a generational increase in positive self-views, including narcissism, and merely two[ that] do not.

How did we get here? To answer that, you have to go back to 1986 and the work of an eccentric and powerful California politician, John Vasco Vasconcellos. That time, the Democrat Vasconcellos managed to persuade a deeply sceptical Republican state governor to money a three-year task force to explore the value of self-esteem. Vasco remained convinced that low self-esteem was different sources of a huge array of social issues, including unemployment, educational downfall, child abuse, domestic violence cases, homelessness and mob warfare. He became remain convinced that causing specific populations self-esteem would act as a social inoculation, saving the state billions.

But Vascos plan backfired spectacularly, with the fallout lasting to this day. I wasted a year trying to find out why and discovered that there was, at the very heart of his job, a lie.

***

John Vasconcellos grew up an submissive Catholic, an altar boy, the smartest boy in his class, whose mom blaspheme that he never misbehaved. But, being such a ardent Catholic, he knew that no matter how good he was, he could only ever be a sinner. At primary school, he flowed for class chairwoman. I lost by one vote. Mine, he eventually replied. He didnt vote for himself because Id been drilled never to use the word I, never to visualize or speak well of myself.

After a charm as a lawyer, Vasco participated politics. In 1966, aged 33, he was elected to the California state assembly. But “theres a problem”: his professional success was at odds with how he thought of himself; he felt he didnt deserves it. At 6ft 3in and over 200 lb, he would stalk the Capitol building in Sacramento, glowering and agitated in his smart black clothing, perfect white shirt and arrow-straight tie, his whisker cultivated with armed precision. I learnt my identity and my life starting utterly apart, he eventually enunciated. I had to go and seek help.

That help came from an uncommon Catholic priest: Father Leo Rock was a psychologist who had studied under the innovator of humanistic psychology, Carl Rogers, a soldier who believed that the Catholic had it absolutely wrong. At their core, he fantasized, humans werent bad; they were good. And in order to thrive, people needed to be treated with unconditional positive thought( Rogers coined the phrase ). Vasco began contemplating under Rogers himself, a soldier he afterwards described as virtually my second father. Through intense group therapy workshops at the Esalen Institute in Big Sur, Vasco became a adherent of the human potential shift, based partly on the Rogerian idea that all you need to do to live well is discover your authentic inner self.

Portrait: Franck Allais for the Guardian

Around the state capitol, Vascos colleagues began to notice the buttoned-up Catholic was unbuttoning. He flourished his mane and wear half-open Hawaiian shirts on the floor of the senate, a gold series nuzzled in his chest “hairs-breadth”. One reporter described him as looks a lot like a cross between a boulder starring and anti-retroviral drugs smuggler. He became a human potential evangelist, urging the innate goodness in human beings and handing long notebook directories to peers. His self-hating Catholic self had washed away, and in its neighbourhood is a major, glowing note I.

Vasco knew he was in a unique slot. As a legislator, he could take everything hed learned about human potential and transform it into programme that would have a real effect on thousands, perhaps millions, of lives. He decided to campaign for a state-financed task force to promote self-esteem: this would give the movement official affirmation and allow legislators to fashion legislation around it. Best of all, they could recruit “the worlds” finest researchers to prove, scientifically, that it worked.

In the mid-8 0s, the notion that feeling good about yourself was the answer to all your problems seemed to many like a silly Californian cult. But it was also a age when Thatcher and Reagan were busily redesigning western culture around their projection of neoliberalism. By interrupting the unions, flogging shields for workers and trade deregulating bank and business, they wanted to turn as much of human life as possible into a competition of self versus soul. To get along and get ahead in this new competitive age, you had to be ambitious, ruthless, relentless. You had to believe in yourself. What Vasco was offering was a simple hack that would draw you a more winning contestant.

Vascos first try at having his task force mandated into principle has now come to a halt in 1984, when he suffered material heart attack. His belief in positive think was such that, by seeking to remedy himself, he wrote to his ingredients requesting them to envision themselves with minuscule cleans swimming through his arteries, rubbing at the cholesterol, while singing, to the sing of Row, Row, Row Your Barge: Now tells swim ourselves/ up and down my flows/ Touch and rub and heated and thaw/ the plaque that stymie my streams. It didnt piece. As the senate “vote yes ” its own proposal, Vasco was retrieving from seven-way coronary bypass surgery.

After a second attempt was vetoed by the state minister, Vasco decided to enhance the name of his job, modernizing it to the Task Force to Promote Self-Esteem and Personal and Social Responsibility. He reduced the proposed budget from $750,000 a year to $735,000 over three, to be spent on academic the investigations and the roundup of sign in the form of public testament. On 23 September 1986, Assembly Bill 3659 was signed into law.

The response from the California media was immediate and barbarian. One editorial, in the San Francisco Chronicle, called Vascos task force naive and outrageous. Nothing established Vasco more enraged than his ideas not being taken seriously, but he was about to become the prank of America.

***

Until Monday 9 February 1987, Vascos task force had was widely regime report. But on that morning, the cartoonist Garry Trudeau, who had been tickled by the legislators crusade, inaugurated an extraordinary two-week lope of his favourite Doonesbury strip to be given to it. By the end of that day, reporters were mobbing Vasco on the floor of the assembly enclosure. Rival politicians devoted dismissive briefings You could buy the Bible for $2.50 and work better while the Wall Street Journals story endured the headline Maybe Folks Would Feel Better If They Get To Split The $735,000.

Vasco was pallid. The media, he grumbled, were ghastly, cynical, sceptical and inexpensive. Their problem? Low self-esteem.

Meanwhile, something impressive seemed to be happening. The response from the people of California had been great. Between its notice and the task forces firstly public gather in March 1987, the role received more than 2,000 calls and letters, and almost 400 applications to volunteer. More than 300 parties came forward to speak in support of self-esteem at public hearings in the various regions of the nation. And even if the medias tone wasnt always respectful, Vasco himself was now their own nationals anatomy. He seemed everywhere from Newsweek to the CBS Morning Show to the BBC. This, he felt, could be a major opportunity.

But firstly he needed to find a way to wrench the national media gossip upwards. And situations, on that front, were going from unfortunate to foolish. It began with the announcement of the task forces 25 members. On the upside, it was a diverse group, including women, gentlemen, people of colour, lesbian beings, straight beings, Republican, Democrat, a former police officer and Vietnam veteran whod been awarded two Purple Middle. On the downside, it also included a white man in a turban who predicted the work of the working group would be so powerful, it would cause the sunlight to increase in the west. A delighted Los Angeles Herald told how, in front of the press, one member of the task force had asked others to close their eyes and thoughts a self-esteem maintenance gear of sorcery hats, twigs and amulets.

Vascos team embarked sounding information from people up and down California. They sounded from an LA deputy sheriff who toured academies, attempting to reduce drug use by telling students, You are special. You are a wonderful individual. They sounded from masked members of the Crips, who accused their murderous criminality on low-pitched self-esteem. One school principal recommended having elementary pupils increase their self-importance by doing evaluations on their teachers. A wife called Helice Bridges explained how shed dedicated her life to assigning hundreds of thousands of blue ribbon that read Who I Am Makes A Difference.

With the national media held so much to snigger over, it was beginning to look as if Vascos mission was a bust. But there had been some good word: the University of California had agreed to recruit seven profs to research the connection between low-grade self-esteem and societal maladies. They would report back in two years hour. For Vasco, their findings would be personal. If the professors decided he was wrong, it was all over.

***

Me, myself and I: a selfie-snapping millennial. Picture: Francois Lenoir/ Reuters

At 7.30 pm on 8 September 1988, Vasco fulfilled the scientists at El Rancho Inn in Millbrae, just outside San Francisco, to hear research results. Everything hinged on Dr Neil Smelser, an emeritus professor of sociology who had coordinated the design, resulting a crew who reviewed all the existing experiment on self-esteem. And the bulletin was good: four months later, in January, the task force questioned a newsletter: In the words of Smelser, The correlational discovers are very positive and compelling.

The headlines rapidly piled up: Self-Esteem Panel Finally Being Taken Seriously; Commission On Self-Esteem Finally Getting Some Respect. The nation minister mailed the professors experiment to his fellow ministers, suggesting, Im convinced that these studies build the foundations for a new period in American problem solving.

Vascos task force was almost done: all they had to supposed to do now was build upon this positive tint with the publication of their final report, Toward A State Of Esteem, in January 1990. That report turned out to be a win beyond the reasonable hopes of anyone who had witnessed its humiliating descents. The minister of Arkansas, Bill Clinton, whod privately taunted Vasco and his projection , now publicly endorsed it, as did illustrations including Barbara Bush and Colin Powell. Time magazine ran with the headline, The gibes are turning to cheers.

The man they were calling the Johnny Appleseed of Self-Esteem is available on the Today Show and Nightline, on the BBC and Australias ABC. The report went into reprinting in its debut week and went on to sell an extraordinary 60,000 copies. Vascos publicists approached Oprah Winfrey, who extended a prime-time special probing why she speculated self-esteem was going to be one of the catch-all words for the 1990 s. Interviewed were Maya Angelou, Drew Barrymore and John Vasconcellos.

Four months after the launch of Toward A State Of Esteem, the papers were reporting that self-esteem was broom through Californias public academies, with 86% of the states elementary school territories and 83% of high school regions enforcing self-esteem programmes. In Sacramento, students began matching twice a few weeks to decide how to discipline other students; in Simi Valley, children were taught, It doesnt matter what you do, but who you are. Political chairmen from Arkansas to Hawaii to Mississippi embarked considering their own task forces.

As the months became times, the self-love action spread. Accuseds in narcotic visitations were reinforced with special key chains for be contained in court, while those who completed medication were given applause and doughnuts. Children were gifted plays accolades just for swerving up; a Massachusetts school district prescribed children in gym classes to skip without actual ropes lest they abide the self-esteem calamity of tripping. Meanwhile, police in Michigan trying a serial rapist taught the public to look out for a thirtysomething male with medium build and low-grade self-esteem.

The credibility of Vascos task force turned predominantly on a single knowledge: that, in 1988, the esteemed professors of the University of California had analysed the data and approved his impression. The only question was, they hadnt. When I tracked down one renegade task force member, he described what happened as a fucking lie. And Vasco was behind it.

***

In an attempt to discover how America, and then “the worlds”, went conned so spectacularly, I travelled to Del Mar, California, to assemble the task force member whod prophesied their work would cause the sunlight to increase in the west. David Shannahoff-Khalsa greeted me into his bungalow, examining little changed from the old-time image Id learnt: appearance constrict, attentions sharp-witted, turban blue. A kundalini yoga practitioner who guessed meditation to be an ancient engineering of the head, Shannahoff-Khalsa had been so disillusioned by the final report, hed refused to sign it.

Portrait: Franck Allais for the Guardian

As we sat and nibbled cheese, he picked up a dense notebook with a glossy red-faced handle: The Social Importance Of Self-Esteem. This was the obtained work of the University of California professors. He flicked through its sheets, ending eventually on Smelsers summary of the findings. The information most consistently reported, he read out loud, is that the association between self-esteem and its expected importances are mixed, insignificant or absent.

This was a radically different conclusion from that fed to the public. Shannahoff-Khalsa told me he was present when Vasco first met preliminary enlists of the professors make. I remember him going through them and he ogles up and enunciates, You know, if members of the legislative council finds out whats in these reports, we are able to cut the funding to the task force. And then all of that nonsense started to get brushed for the purposes of the table.

How did they do that?

They tried to hide it. They wrote a[ positive] report before this one, he alleged, tapping the ruby-red notebook, which deliberately dismissed and considered up the science.

It was hard to believe that Vascos task force had been so rash as simply to develop the mention, the one that territory the findings and conclusions were positive and compelling. What had really happened at that see in September 1988? I knew the answer on an old-time audio cassette in the California state archives.

The sound was hissy and swooning. What I sounded, though, was clear enough. It was a recording of Smelsers presentation to Vascos task force at that meet in El Rancho Inn, and it was nowhere near as upbeat as the task force had claimed. I listened as he announced the professors work to be complete but worryingly mixed. He talked through a few domains, such as academic achievement, and remarked: These correlational findings are really pretty positive, reasonably compelling. This, then, was the mention the task force employed. Theyd sexed it up a bit for the public. But they had wholly omitted what he enunciated next: In other areas, the connects dont seem to be so great, and were not quite sure why. And were not sure, once we have connects, what the causes might be.

Smelser then leaved the task force a tell. The data was not going to give them something we are able to hand on a dish to the legislature and do, This is what youve got to do and youre going to expect the following kind of results. That is another sin, he said. Its the sin of overselling. And no one can wishes to do that.

I wondered whether Smelser was angry about the mention that got used. So I announced him. He told me the university got involved in the first place only because Vasco was in charge of its budget. The influence[ from Vasco] was indirect. He didnt speak, Im going to cut your budget if you dont do it. But, Wouldnt it be a good idea if the university could dedicate some of its resources to this question? It turned out that Smelser wasnt at all stunned about their dubious medicine of the data. The task force would welcome different forms of good word and either reject or disclaim bad news, he replied. I knew this was a quasi-religious crusade, and thats the kind of happen that happens in those dynamics.

Vasco passed away, aged 82, in 2014, but I find his right-hand guy, task force chairman and veteran legislator Andrew Mecca. When we finally communicated, he confirmed that it was the prestige of the University of California that had passed occasions around for Vasco. That gave us some credibility stripes, he replied. Like Smelser, he felt that the university became involved simply out of anxiety of Vasco. John chaired their lifeblood. Their plan! he chuckled.

How did he frequency the professors investigate? As you read the book, he mentioned, its a cluster of scholarly gobbledegook.

What was Meccas response when the data didnt say what he craved?

I didnt care, he did. I thought it was beyond discipline. It was a leap of faith. And I reckon simply a blind stupid wouldnt believe that self-esteem isnt center to ones persona and health and vitality.

Was Vasconcellos furious where reference is read the professors reports?

The thing is, John was an incredible politician. He was pragmatic enough that he felt he had what he necessary, and that was a scholarly report that pretty much supposed, Self-esteems important. At least, thats the spin we got in the media.

Mecca told me that, prior to the final reports publication, he and Vasco visited editors and television services and facilities producers up and down the two countries, in a deliberate attempt to construct the fib before it was possible to subverted. An extraordinary $30,000 was spent on their PR campaign: at its meridian, five publicists were working full time. We decided to make sure we got out there to tell our fib and not let them interpret it from the stuff that was being written by Smelser. We cultivated the letter. And that positiveness prevailed.

So nobody listened to what Smelser and Shannahoff-Khalsa were saying?

Im not sure anybody attended, Mecca added. Who recollects Neil Smelser or Shannahoff-Khalsa? Nothing! They were minuscule ripples in a big tsunami of positive change.

***

More than 20 years on, the effects of Vascos mission linger. Whether the tsunami of change he brought about was utterly positive continues dubious. I spoke to educational psychologist Dr Laura Warren, who taught in British academies in the 90 s, and remembers her schools edict that staff utilize mauve writes to differentiate wrongdoings, in place of the negative red. It was a policy of wage everything that they do, she told me. That turned out to be a atrociously bad idea.

The Ofsted inspectors detected as much when they saw Barrowford primary school in 2015. But after their critical report became public, the headteacher, Rachel Tomlinson, defended herself in her local newspaper. When we introduced the policy, it was after an horrid heap of research and deliberation, she read. And I think it has been a success.

Accommodated from Selfie: How We Became So Self-Obsessed And What Its Doing To Us by Will Storr, published by Picador on 15 June at 18.99. To tell a emulate for 16.14, go to bookshop.theguardian.com or call 0330 333 6846

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