Michael Clifford Imagines

Break

Break: Michael Clifford Imagine

by: ilikenightwriting on tumblr

"This is so un-Michael Clifford-like of you" you commented from the passenger side as he kept his hands firmly placed on the wheel.

"How so?" He asked with a crooked smile.

God, you loved that smile. That always slightly crooked grin that he'd tried to hide from you countless times. 

"How so? You're driving to the beach where we first met to end it. The Michael I know would have called it quits at the airport as his plane was boarding with some shit about how long-distance never works" you spoke absentmindedly, looking out the window fervently. 

Anything to avoid his clear blue eyes that were surely fixed on your profile. 

You drove for a while longer in silence before Michael haphazardly parked the car in the sand, seeing that there was no one else around. You got out of the car and slammed the door in an effort to release some of your pent up emotion as you staggered on the line between anger and sorrow. When his eyes met yours you set your internal debate aside and reached out to tangle your fingers in his one more time. You walked hand in hand onto the beach before both silently agreeing on a spot to rest in the sand. You sat closely beside one another, your tangled hands resting on his thigh as you laid your head on his shoulder. It was quiet; still. It was easy to forget your purpose for coming as the sounds of the crashing waves drowned out your thoughts. But Michael soon decided to break the peaceful silence.

"If this is a break up, we've got to do it right. So come on" he sighed as he spoke and then stood up, brushing the sand off of his worn-out jeans.

He held his arms out to either side, as if awaiting a crucifixion. It was then that you realized what he wanted; a final battle.

"Give me all you got, baby, come on" he smiled, but there was a sadness there.

"Mikey, stop. No. I don't want..." You trailed off letting your breath get caught in a sharp inhale of ocean air. It should have been refreshing, but instead it felt like a chilled knife to your lungs.

"Oh come on, babe, you're telling me this is the only time you don't want to fight? You love to fight! Come on, I must've done something wrong and you were probably right, so give it to me!" He insisted, teasingly.

You knew what he was doing. He wanted to get a rise out of you. Typically, you'd ignore it. He'd always loved to try to get you involved in his childish ways but you always refused, deeming them as well...childish. But this time you were up for it.

"Fine! Fine! You want to fight? Let's fight baby! Let's see, where should we start? You're an arrogant asshole, you know that? You always think you're right when you're so far from it! You're always out late and lie about when you're coming home! That green you picked out for our bedroom is hideous and I wake up every morning wanting to puke just looking at it! You get jealous like it's your day job, I mean for god's sakes you got jealous thinking my cousin was putting the moves on me! And you always, always..."

At this point you were working yourself up into almost incoherent screams. You weren't even making much sense to yourself anymore. You tugged at your hair in frustration.

"ALWAYS put that stupid fucking smirk on your smug face knowing just how angry it makes me!" You screamed at him, gesturing towards his face where the very smirk you were referring to resided happily.

"But you want to know the absolute worst thing, Michael?! The absolute worst is that not only are you an arrogant asshole, you're also a selfish asshole! So incredibly selfish that you're getting as far away from me as you possibly can to go "follow your dreams" when my only goddamn dream that I had to hold onto was YOU!" You screamed and pushed your finger into his chest and he swore that with the force of your words, it might just pierce right through him.

His smile faltered as you finally fell to the sand, a weeping mess.

Michael was speechless for once. Salted tears pooled in his own eyes as he watched the girl he loved fall apart at his feet. He doubt she knew how much this was killing him, how every fiber of him was ripping itself apart at the sound of your shaking sobs. But he held onto his resistance, knowing that he'd been unbelievably lucky to have you for the time that he did, because a girl like you deserved the world, and he knew he couldn't give that to you when he was on the other side of it constantly.

He collapsed beside you, lifting your body into his arms and holding onto you tightly. In turn, you settled instinctively into his chest and cried against him. He held you there until you were sure that you'd run out of tears.

"And you always left your damn socks everywhere" you muttered, your voice still coming out watery.

Michael had to laugh, even through his tears.

"You're right" he whispered, pressing his lips to your hair and inhaling your scent.

He wanted to say that he loved you one last time; just to make sure you knew, but didn't want to cause the additional heartache.

"You were always right..." he murmured instead, still holding you and rocking you softly in his arms.

He knew at one point you'd have to leave the sand, leave the beach, and leave each other, so he held on for as long as he could, until the sun set over the waves.