Michael Clifford Imagines

hockey

You're practice had finished, and you were the last to finish up getting changed, taking your time.

You're muscled ached, you guys had a rough practice today and all you wanted to do was go home and sleep. And eat.

You slung your heavy bag over your shoulder, ready to leave when you heard the sound of someone skating around coming from the rink.

Curious, you craned your neck to see who was there, walking back towards the rink. 

The whole place was basically empty and you thought that you were going to be the last to leave, except for the workers here.

You saw a boy, around your age, skating around the rink and pushing the puck along with him and making shots at the empty net.

He was alone, and the rink actually looked kinda sombre without the parents on the bleachers and the children running around, and the loud music that usually came from the speakers.

 You took a seat on the bleachers, watching him play.

After a few minutes, he noticed you sitting there watching him.

"Sorry, do you need the rink?" He asked, skating towards you.

You shook your head no, offering him a smile. "No, my practice just finished. I didn't know that they kept it open this late and I was curious who was here."

He nodded, seemingly understanding my explanation. 

"You wanna play with me?" He asked, after a few seconds of silence.

Nodding and smiling once more, you took out your skates from you bag, pulling them on. Even if you were just in jeans and a hoodie.

You made your away around with your stick, stepping onto the ice and skating towards him. 

You guys messed around for a bit, not really trying hard since you were exhausted from your own practice. 

He skated towards to try and get the puck from you, bumping into you and causing you to fall over onto the cold ice.

Laughing, you grabbed onto his sleeve deciding that if you fell you were dragging him down with you.

"What was that for." he said quietly, landing on top of you. 

"If I fall, I'm brining you down with me." You whispered, his warm breath hitting your face,

"I'm Michael, by the way." He said, not moving one bit.

"Y/n." 

by: peace-love-life-love on tumblr

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