Stolen Soul - Michael Clifford Fanfiction

Chapter 9

I feel it. I feel this thick tension scaling my bones, and it's pleasant but then again unpleasant. It's strange and odd, but it is all together warm and inviting.

I watch him clean the wound on my elbow, the ache already gone. Michael's breath is heavy and hits the skin on my shoulder with so much force, I don't think I am capable of containing the goosebumps from running down my arm.

There's something about Michael that isn't like any other guy I've met. Whether it's the color of his hair. Or maybe his steady hands? Whatever it is, I can't stop myself from wanting to know.

"You're very gentle." I mumble.

I see his tongue flatly run under his lip and it stirs something peculiar in me.

"I don't want to hurt you."

I bite my lip. This is no fanfic, Emma. He could care less about me. I am a fan and a fan I will be.

"Uhh...thanks."

Michael runs his finger on the bandages to try and keep them still while he sticks them to my skin. He's not a bit scared, not a bit afraid, not like I am.

"I've never been stared at for this long." The thick australian accent echoes through the room.

I watch his mouth move again.

"Not even at my own concert."

I try smiling, even though my smile is stuck where all my organs hid away to.

Michael's emerald eyes push through my perfectly constructed asylum as he stares at me and I manage to clear my throat.

"I...I doubt that." I brush my hair back.

"You're really shy. Aren't you?"

'Only around you.'

I shrug my shoulders and when he lets go of me to scoot over, the air I thought I would never expel, leaves.

"Oh." He bites his lip. "I'm not just a guy from a band. I....know it seems that way, but I think I'm normal."

Talk, Emma!

"Everyone thinks they have this all figured out. In their eyes every band member wants to drink, destroy hotel rooms, and sleep around. They don't fully get it though." He looks at the bloodied napkins in the tray he walked in with.

I feel like I understand him in a way. You travel from place to place with no real home and people that you can't fully trust. Friend's are trustworthy, but there are things that a person feels which are too much to even tell a friend.

"You feel alone."

Michael looks up, his eyebrows furrowed and confused.

"You do all of those things you mentioned because you need some type of distraction. I get you. You feel alone....even in a crowded place." I turn to the empty space between us where our fingertips barely meet.

"Exactly! And I wish I knew how to explain myself to the media, but it doesn't seem like it would make a difference anyway. I'm a just another terrible boy from a band in their eyes."

I shake my head and pick at my fingernails. "They don't know what I know, Michael."

The bed shifts and Michael brings his hand up to mine. "And what is that?"

"You're more than a boy from a band. Your the reason why many keep fighting, why many have realized that hard work can bring you happiness. The media may show Michael Clifford, the 5 Seconds of Summer superstar, but they will never come close to knowing how amazing you and your friends really are." My hand trembles as it lays on his chest. "Especially in here."

Michael smiles and brings his hand on mine again. "What's your distractio-"

"Michael!"