HOLD

Michael

When Michael got bored, he made fun of Luke.

"You're lame."

"Okay."

"You're so boring."

"Thanks."

"You make huge messes in the shower."

"You told me twice this morning."

"Yeah, well, I almost died. Multiple times. What did you do, paint the shower with conditioner? It was slippery as hell," Michael said.

The side of Luke's mouth quirked up. "I don't think hell is slippery."

"Shut up."

"Nah."

"Hey, boys."

Luke and Michael stopped bickering and looked over to the door. A tall girl was standing in the doorway, her blonde hair wet, leaving stains on her dark long-sleeved shirt. Her light brown eyes flickered between Luke and Michael.

Michael sat up on his bed, ruffling his damp hair. "Hay is for horses," he said.

The girl rolled her eyes. "Wow, how original. I bet you get all the ladies by commenting on their manners," she said.

"Would you like some ice for that burn?" Luke muttered under his breath, gleeful.

Michael flipped him off before turning back to the girl. "Whatever, blondie. What do you want?"

"To stop putting my life at risk when I wash my hair," she said. "The shower is a hazard. I slipped so many times. You were the last person using that shower," she said, addressing Michael.

Michael turned to Luke. "See! I told you your showering habits are dangerous!"

"Co-ed showers?" Luke yelped, looking at the girl with wide eyes.

The girl looked between them, momentarily confused, before saying, "Look, whoever is the one making the shower slippery needs to stop. We're all damaged already; no need to add to the wounds," she said.

"Deep," Michael commented, raising an eyebrow.

"Co-ed showers," Luke whispered to himself, scandalized, shaking his head slowly. "Co-ed showers. Is that even legal?"

Michael looked at the blonde girl. "Sorry that you almost died, blondie. I'll get Luke to take neater showers."

The girl grit her teeth. "I'm not blondie, I've got a name."

"Yeah, but you never gave it to me, so what else am I supposed to call you? I don't suppose you'd appreciate any of the other nicknames I could have picked." Michael smirked.

"Whatever, ginger."

"My hair isn't even ginger!"

The girl held her hands up. "Whoa, sorry for getting the shade of your hair wrong," she said, in a mock apologetic tone. "My deepest apologies."

"I like her," Luke decided.

Michael rolled his eyes. "Whatever, blondie-"

"Clover."

"Yeah, I really don't care," he said. "Just yell at Luke for taking hurricane showers and then get out."

"I've already talked to you both, idiot."

Michael glared at her. "I'm not an idiot!"

She smirked at him. "You never gave me your name, what else am I supposed to call you?" she asked with faux innocence, mimicking him.

"Touché."

Clover winked at him and then walked out.

"I still have no idea why Hayley was attracted to you. Does she have a thing for jerks or something?" Luke asked as soon as she was gone.

"Explains why she never liked you," Michael said.

"She never liked me," Luke agreed. "Even though you thought she did."

"Whatever, I'm over her."

"What about this Clover girl?" Luke asked, grabbing a notebook from his bedside table and starting to write.

"Not hot enough," Michael said. "But she's fun to argue with."

"Not hot enough? You are the reason the female population hates men," Luke said.

"Don't care."

"Honestly, you could be a little nicer. We're all here cos, like she said, we're damaged."

"Like ruined textbooks," Michael said. "I'm bored."

Luke didn't answer, still writing madly in his notebook.

"Luke!"

He looked up. "What?" he asked.

Michael grit his teeth. He hated being ignored. "Never mind," he muttered. "Just... never mind." He hopped off the bed. "I'm going to go explore."

"Sure," Luke said absently, writing.

Michael walked out, heading towards the rec room. Maybe there would be a decent show on...

He was about to go in when he spotted two people already in there. Although they weren't sitting by the television, the idea of walking in and turning it on felt intrusive.

They both had dark hair. The girl was skinny, and she seemed to be swallowed by her long dark hair. The boy beside her looked huge in comparison.

"Why aren't you going in?"

Michael jumped and turned to see Clover standing there.

"There are people having a moment," he said, shrugging.

Clover peeked into the rec room and hummed quietly in comprehension. "So you aren't a completely manner-less asshole," she said, grinning. "That's reassuring."

Michael frowned at her, trying to figure out what was wrong with her.

Why was she here?

He could almost hear Luke whispering, We're all damaged.

"Hello?" Clover asked, waving her hand in front of Michael's eyes. "You still here, buddy?"

"Yep." He sighed. "The rec room's occupied. How the hell am I supposed to entertain myself now?"

Clover shrugged. "We could go back to my room. My roomie wouldn't mind. She's probably with her boyfriend now."

"Sounds good," Michael said, and they walked back to her room, Clover leading the way.

"Hey, Pez, you're still here?"

Michael's eyes fixated on the extraordinarily beautiful girl sitting in the corner. Her blonde hair framed her fair face, her blue eyes sparkling. "Yeah, I'm going to Zayn's in a minute. I wonder if he's got a new roomie," the girl said.

Michael coughed, self-conscious.

Clover looked back at him. "Oh, right. Pez, this is uh...," she trailed off. "What is your name?" she asked Michael.

"Michael."

"Michael, this is Perrie. Perrie, Michael."

"Pleasure," she said, smiling.

It was a damn shame she was taken, Michael thought. She was gorgeous.

He nodded. "Yeah," he murmured, shoving a hand in his pocket.

Perrie got up off her bed. "Well, I'd better hop over to Zayn's. Be back later Clo," she said, blowing a kiss and walking out.

Clover grinned at Michael. "You were so checking her out. Sorry, Mike, she's taken."

"Was not!"

She chuckled. "I don't blame you. She's smoking hot."

Michael raised an eyebrow. "She's taken."

"I know, but I still think she's hot," Clover said. "So Mike-"

"Michael. Or Mikey. Mike is weird."

"You're weird," she said, sticking her tongue out at him before jumping onto her bed. "What about Perrie is so hot?"

"Don't you already have your own list?" Michael teased, sitting at the edge of Perrie's bed. He could smell her perfume: it was heavenly.

Clover shrugged. "Well yeah." She looked down at her fingers, picking at her nail polish. "She's the opposite of me, for starters."

Michael frowned. "What do you mean?"

Clover sighed and said, "Perrie is actually perfect. She's hot, she's funny, she's got a boyfriend, she's got a nice body, hell, she's smart, even. She's also wickedly talented at singing and dancing, and she's artistic, and I just feel so fucking incompetent being her roommate. Yeah, she's here, but not even for something bad. I mean, why would anyone even look at someone like me when there are people like Perrie in this world?"

Michael, startled by the sudden turn in the conversation, couldn't keep up. Clover seemed so confident, so sure of herself. He said, "But Perrie's taken."

Evidently, it was the wrong thing to say, because Clover just got more distressed. Her eyes grew sad, and she hid behind her hair. "Exactly. The only reason anyone would look at me is because Perrie is taken." She sighed softly. "If Perrie were single, I'd be about as noticed as the carpet here."

Michael glanced at the carpet. "It's a really nice shade of blue," he said, awkward.

"Incompetent. Stupid. Useless." She sighed. "Compared to the nicknames my mom gave me, your nickname is straight up affectionate."

Michael froze. He didn't know how to respond.

Clover continued on, talking more to herself than to Michael at this point. "I didn't believe her, at first. I told myself that she was just drunk, or high, or wasted, or cranky, or frustrated, or lonely. But after years of being called a useless bitch, I started to believe her."

"You shouldn't have," Michael murmured.

Clover shrugged. "It's whatever, you know? I'm getting better, I swear." She didn't sound so sure. "Nothing new. Just scars."

And then it hit him.

Slowly, Michael got up and walked to Clover's bed, sitting next to her. He hesitantly reached out a hand and clasped her arm.

Clover flinched violently and jerked her arm away. "No," she gasped, cradling her arm to her chest. "No, please. You already know what's underneath my sleeve. You don't need to see it." She talked faster, panicked now. "Michael, stop! Seriously, just let go. I'm fine, okay?"

"I never said you weren't fine," Michael said sadly.

Clover squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath. Hand shaking, she slowly pushed her sleeve up.

Michael inhaled sharply.

Just scars.

Everywhere.

[A/N Not everything that's broken looks like it is.]