friends [muke af]

the boy with the white eyes deleted scene number four - LAX

the boy with the white eyes deleted scene number four — LAX

Clémence was sobbing loudly, hiccups leaving her throat as they stood in line and waited for their gate-checked bags. Michael put his carry on on the floor, trying to not hit anyone in the tight corridor. 

He could feel the heat from the tarmac and he was a little bit glad to be home again. Mike was trying not to think about missing New York, he couldn’t break out into full on sobs like his six year old. “Baby, I need you to stop crying,” he whispered as he picked her up, leaning her small body on his hip.

“I don’t want to be here,” she answered. Her face was red, the skin under her eyes dry from her baby fingers rubbing the tears away. 

“I know you don’t, but we’re gonna see Grandma and Grandpa, we’re gonna go to the beach. You’re gonna have a really big room and we’re gonna decorate it just how you want,” Michael cooed, his hand rubbing the back of her tank top. He brought his other fingers to her stomach, starting to tickle her sides. 

Clémence, being the hard ass she was, bit down on her lip to hold down her smile. Her face gained color as she let out a string of laughter. The people around them turned, smiling at the child and father. 

Michael smiled too, thankful for Clémence in his life. Her simple smile made him forget about everything he was leaving behind. It made him forget about the misery he felt about having to return home because he failed. 

“What about Luke?” She asked as she was placed on the ground, her beat up Vans matching her father’s. 

Bags started to be thrown from the tarmac and onto the air conditioned gate way. “He’s gonna go back to his parents and get his pretty eyes back,” Michael spoke, calmly, trying to not get angry with his daughter.

She wiped a loose piece of blonde hair from her forehead, “why couldn’t he have come with us?”

Mike moved in front of the line, still holding C’s hand, as he saw their bags be thrown up. He grabbed his rolling suitcase and gave Clémence her own. She held the handle proudly, feeling like a real adult. Michael threw his satchel over his shoulder and started to head towards the inside of LAX.

He held her hand tightly, trying to not lose her in the busiest airport in America. “Well, he has his own family to see. His dreams are finally coming true,” Michael tried to explain. 

She was practically running as she tried to catch up with Michael’s fast feet. Her blonde curls were swinging as she clutched onto her father, every day she was looking more and more like Rosie and it pained him slightly. 

“I think he should’ve come with us,” Clémence decided as they headed down the escalator towards bagger claim, “Calum could have too, but I don’t like him.”

Michael texted his parents, telling them he was a few minutes away from baggage claim, “yeah, me either.”

The duo stepped off the escalator, the six year old rambling on about something she heard on their four hour over lay, Michael’s eyes wandering around until he spotted the blonde couple he calls his parents. 

He cried. He cried, he cried, and he cried. He was finally home.

(a/n) i'm sure if you guys read all of my stories you're sick of hearing this. i have state testing the next two weeks which means i can't update a bunch. i'm going to try but i don't want to stress myself out :(((

i love you guys, 

sophie