Chapter thirty-five – Anger Talking

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-One week later-

"Michael! The phone's ringing," I call from the kitchen, as I prepare our breakfast.

From the living room, he calls back: "I'll get it!" After, I hear his footsteps leading into the hallway, where the phone is located. "Hello; Jackson speaking." Deciding to eavesdrop a little, I pause what I'm doing and walk to the kitchen door, close to where Michael is standing. He continues to talk on the phone, "Who is this? ... Oh. Goodbye."

Confused, I enter the hallway. "What was that about? Who was it?"

He closes his eyes, inhaling deeply, as if trying to calm himself down. "It was Marco again. I'm still wanting to know how the hell he got our number. I sure as hell never gave it to him."

"I don't know either, Michael. It's a mystery." Wanting to conclude the conversation there, I walk back into the kitchen, to continue making breakfast. "Anyway, breakfast will be ready soon. It's pancakes."

"Sweet!" he grins, following me into the room. "You know I have a sweet tooth."

"I know," I reply, heading over to the pan to flip the pancakes over. "I'm assuming you'll want syrup and everything else?"

Without even turning around to look at him, I just know that he's giving me a sneaky, playful smile. Whenever I figure him out, he does that. "Maybe ... " he finally answers, a chuckle following after.

"Well, they're nearly ready. Could you give me the sugar please, Michael?" I request politely.

The next thing I know, I'm feeling Michael's arms around me from behind; one of his hands touches upon my chin, guiding my head around to face him, before he gives me a kiss. "There. I gave you some sugar."

That joke doesn't fail to make me cringe. "That was so cheesy, Michael. Gosh."

"Well actually, it was technically sugary," he retorts, a smirk rising into his lips. "Nah; I know it was. I just wanted to prove I'm funny – looks like that failed."

"Yeah, it did," I agree, serving the pancakes up onto plates now. "Completely failed."

When I turn around to face him, I notice that he's pouting, with his arms folded. "You weren't meant to agree," he informs me. "You were meant to disagree because you love me."

"I'm terribly sorry," I remark sarcastically, handing him a plate and joining him at the table. "But I couldn't help myself."

I nonchalantly begin to eat my pancakes, feeling Michael's playful yet nasty stare on me. It always tickles me when he does this; I love having playful arguments, because they're not genuine – they're just for fun.

Unable to contain my giggles, I look up at him, trying to imitate his facial expression as accurately as possible. When I get it just right, Michael's lip quivers a little, as if he's trying to stop himself from smiling. However, this attempt isn't very good, because he ends up bursting into laughter. "God damn it, Citria! The whole point of me pretending to be angry is that you don't make me laugh! That's rude!"

"I'm terribly sorry." Following this apology, my eyes tightly close, and I stick my tongue out at him. Moments later, I feel him tap my nose, which leads me to abruptly opening my eyes and pouting at him. "Hey!"

He smirks, before casually beginning to eat his pancakes. "What? I didn't do nothing ... "

"That's a double negative, meaning you did something," I argue cockily, taking another bite of food.

"So technical," he comments under his breath. Before another word can be said, the phone rings again, causing him to violently slam his cutlery against the table in anger. "If that's Marco again, I swear I'm going to—!"

"Michael," I breathe, in attempt to calm him down.

He looks my way, before breathing in to compose himself. He nods. "Sorry, Angel. I swear I'm going to ... be the bigger man and tell him to—" His voice suddenly raises, "—leave us the hell alone!"

"Just go answer the phone," I laugh, setting my fork down so I can concentrate on the phone conversation better.

"Hello?" Michael answers the phone. "Who is this?" There's a few seconds of silence, but then Michael's voice makes me jump by shouting, "Marco, leave us alone! Don't call again!" The next thing I hear is the phone being slammed back onto its receiver, before he walks back into the kitchen. "He's going to be the death of me, I swear."

"We really need to find out how he got our number," I reply quietly, continuing to eat.

Michael sits back down, and finishes his food too. The rest of the meal is silent.

* * *

"You don't mind us going to see father and the others do you? I can go alone if you like," I offer, grabbing my jacket from the coat rack and sliding it over my sleeves. "Honestly, it's nothing."

"I'll come," he answers, also grabbing his jacket. "It'll get me away from that irritating phone, I suppose."

"Fair point."

Having decided, we leave the house, arriving at father's shortly after. Before I can unlock the front door myself, Reiss opens it, a huge grin on his face. "Hey! Nice to see you both! Come in."

"Hey, Reiss," I greet in return, leading us all into the living room where Clover and father are. "Hey, guys. How've you been?"

"Not too bad," Clover smiles sweetly. She then raises her eyebrows, in expectance of my reply. "You?"

"Yeah, yeah, we've been good," I respond, looking at Michael. "Though Michael's been a little angry today."

Michael then gives me a glare with widened eyes; it takes me a second to realise why – Clover shouldn't really find out about Marco and what he's trying to do. Feeling bad, I frown guiltily at him, before mouthing the word "Sorry". He sighs, nodding silently before averting his eyes to Clover.

"Why you been angry Mike?" Reiss asks casually, taking a seat on the sofa by Clover.

Michael shakes his head, seemingly dismissing the subject. "Nah, nothing. Nothing—" His next words are aimed at me; his expression suggests anger as he concludes, "—at all."

Feeling even guiltier than before, I look down sadly, to avoid eye contact with absolutely everyone in the room. I've not even said hello to father, yet, because it's already feeling negative here.

"Nah, you ain't pulling nothing over, Michael," Reiss smirks, watching Michael come and join him on the sofa. He then elbows Michael's arm playfully. "Come on; tell us what's been getting to ya."

Michael quietly shakes his head again, looking down. "Nothing, Uncle Reiss." As he says this, a single baby strand of hair falls over his forehead, hanging loosely. "Nothing at all."

"Michael, you're a terrible actor," Clover laughs, flicking the curl from Michael's forehead. "Tell us. Please? A problem shared is a problem halved, as they say."

"A problem shared makes more people miserable," he retorts bluntly, finally looking up from the ground. "So just leave it, okay?"

"Mich—"

"Please," he interrupts calmly, raising his hand up as if to say "Stop", cutting Reiss off.

"Michael, I think you're being silly." My sudden change in heart is bold and daring, but I decide to stick with it. "After all, this concerns them more than it concerns us."

"Citria, please leave it," Michael demands politely.

"But Michael—"

He suddenly raises his voice, interrupting me. "I said, leave it!" Having shouted in front of everyone, he leaps up from the sofa, before storming halfway across the room, whether out of anger or embarrassment – or both – I can't tell.

Thinking that he's going to leave already, I get up from my seat, following him. "Michael!"

Hearing me call his name, he whips his body around to see me, giving me a furious look. "You know what, Citria? Fine! Tell them!"

This demand can't help but keep me silent; I'm frightened of this Michael. He's never been angry at me this way before, and I really don't like it. Not at all ...

All that comes from my lips is a tiny squeak; I'm trying to refrain myself from crying. He waits a few seconds, but then in anger, he removes his jacket in a rage, beginning to explain for himself. "Well, you see, not too long ago, we received a phone call from someone. Citria answered it, finding out it was Marco! He was demanding to know where you are, Clover, and Citria – being the little ditz she is – she told Marco that you're in America! I mean, how stupid is that! Now, Marco won't stop calling us, and we have no idea how he got our number! It's ridiculous! Can you not see why I'm angry!" Before finishing, he throws his jacket forcefully onto the floor, before stomping one foot on it. "Because I can definitely see!"

"Michael, calm down!" My voice suddenly raises to the same volume as his, and anger rises inside of me. "I made a mistake and you forgave that, so why bring it up again! You know, I wasn't going to get mad, but right now you're being absolutely stupid! Yes, I made a mistake. But no, I didn't tell Marco our address; no, I didn't tell Marco our phone number; and no, I didn't tell him anything else private! So quit raising your voice at me in front of the only members of family we both have left, and get a grip, man!"

To this, Michael falters. He obviously isn't used to me being this way around him; normally we're the best of friends as well as lovers. Well, not this time; he's taking this too far. I realise that he wants to keep us safe, but it's not like Marco is going to track us down and kill us, is it?

Michael's anger seems to soften then. His eyes move around the room, and then, he seems to grow embarrassed, as he flees the room. My eyes nervously scan the room, to see everyone's reactions after my outburst, and sure enough, they're all shocked. An almost-silent sigh passes my lips as I try to stop tears forming in my eyes once again.

"I'm sorry," I apologise simply, before exiting the room somewhat dramatically – but without that intention. As I reach the bottom of the stairs, I call Michael's name. "Michael!" Climbing the stairs, I call again. "Michael!" A frown tugs at my lips as I reach the next floor up. "Michael ... "

It's then that I hear faint crying coming from somewhere. Following the sound, I arrive at my old bedroom, opening the door to find Michael sitting in the far corner of the room, his head in his hands, and he himself crying his eyes out.

"Michael ... " I breathe, walking over to him. "Michael ... " Kneeling down by his side, I gently force his hands away from his face, to see his cheeks are tinged red, as are his eyes.

He looks up at me, trying to stop his cries. "Y-You're right. I'm being ridiculous and stupid. What's happening to me?"

"Nothing's happening—"

"I'm being serious, Citria. What's happening to me? What am I becoming? I'm becoming a monster. When you and I first met, I was the nicest guy. Now what? I'm someone that isn't even worth knowing. I'm a hideous human being." He sniffles, closing his eyes and burying his head into his embrace.

"You're not a hideous human being ... " I try to assure him. "You're just an emotional person because of your situation."

"An emotional person that raises his voice over the smallest things?" he remarks sarcastically, his voice muffled because his head is buried. "I'm not emotional; I'm emotionally unstable."

"I shouted just as loud as you did," I reason softly, sitting myself down cross-legged on the floor by his side. "So does that make me emotionally unstable too?"

"But you're normal," he justifies. "I'm not."

"It's impossible to define "Normal", you know." A frown forms on my face for him, despite him being unable to see it.

"It's easy to define it. Normal is anyone on Earth but me," he argues hopelessly.

"But you know that's not true," I mutter, furrowing my brows sadly. "And I'm sorry that I got you angry. I'm sorry I raised my voice. I'm sorry that I'm such a ditz ... "

"It was anger talking," he tells me, lifting his head up to look at me. "You're not a ditz at all. If I really wanted to insult you and actually mean it, I would've called you something a lot worse than just a ditz." He sighs again, hopelessly, "And I'm just ... sorry. I had already forgiven you for the whole Marco thing, but bringing it up again just made me lose it, I guess ... "

"That's the angriest we've ever been at one another," I murmur. "It was both of us ... so don't be sorry ... "

"You know that the reason why I got angry is because I want to protect you all?" he asks me in clarification. "Because I care for Clover, your father and Reiss a lot. And as for you ... well, I love you. You're the last person I would want to be hurt."

"It's not me you should worry about." A faint smile plays on my lips to express my appreciation, nevertheless. "It's Clover and Reiss that are the main priority. And father too, because he lives with them. If something happens to Clover and Reiss, something'll most likely happen to father, too, and I'm not ready to lose him yet ... "

"And we're going to make sure you don't lose him. He's all you have now, really. I've said this before, and I'll say it again – we've all got to stick together now." He slowly climbs back up onto his feet, before making his way over to the bed and sitting down on it. He pats the space next to him. "Sit, Cit."

"And now I'm deciding whether you just told me to sit twice, or said my nickname twice, or one of each," I chuckle, joining him on the bed. "So we're okay again, now?"

He gives me a small smile, bringing me into his arms and cuddling me close. "Yes, we are. I'm sorry if my anger scared you; I'm just so worked-up lately."

"Don't worry." The warmth of his chest makes it impossible for me not to hug him back; my head leans on him whilst my arms coil around his waist. "And you know I'm sorry for shouting back; I'm never normally one to do that."

"I deserved it after the way I was prior to that," he reasons softly. "So it's nothing, now."

There's a sudden knock on the door, causing us both to jump. It opens, revealing Clover, who looks a little concerned. "Guys ... are you okay?"

"We're fine, Clover," I answer on our behalf. "I'm really sorry we caused a scene downstairs."

"I'm cool with it; your father was a little worried though." She comes and sits with us on the bed. "And Reiss just looked surprised after you left."

"Can we go downstairs and apologise to them?" Michael requests quietly, before kissing my forehead for no apparent reason.

"I'm sure you can," Clover smiles.

With that being said, we all get up from the bed, heading downstairs to father and Reiss, so Michael and I can apologise.

I'm still intrigued though, about everything surrounding Marco. How has he got our number? Why has he got our number? Where did he get our number?

... What if he really does find us?

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Chapter thirty-five! So, you saw Citria and Michael argue properly for the first time! Which side are you on? Michael's or Citria's?

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! :)