outdoors ; m.g.c.

0.1

    

A bottle shattered into pieces as it hit a part of the wall beside Michael. Michael didn't flinch like he used to, this happened almost daily. His father getting drunk and throwing bottles towards Michael.

Like usual, Michael muttered a few profanities as his father stumbled up the stairs to his bedroom.

Shoving his hands in his leather jacket pockets, Michael gripped onto the Marlboros cigarette box as he stepped out the door, avoiding any further conflict with his intoxicated father.

Taking small steps over to the stop sign, Michael glanced at the row of poorly constructed houses which is when he saw her,

Clarity.

Every time Michael went out to smoke, she was outside jumping, jumping on that damn trampoline she seemed so obsessed with.

Michael stepped towards the front of her house, giving her a smug look, "Don't you ever get tired of bouncing on that trampoline all damn day?" He spoke with his cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth.

"Don't you ever get tired of smoking those cancers on a stick?" She questioned with pure annoyance filling her voice. A chuckle left Michael's mouth as Clarity rolled her eyes.

"Not really, the only thing I get tired of is your little attitude."

Which had indeed been a complete lie, Michael adored her attitude, without it he wouldn't ask her the same question everyday just to piss her off.

Michael lit his cigarette with his lighter, holding the cigarette in between his index and middle finger as he blew out the smoke.

Clarity climbed off of her trampoline and walked up to Michael, smacking the cigarette out of his hand and onto the floor.

For a second Michael's smirk turned into a pout, but quickly changed back to his cocky smirk.

That was what she adored about him, his bad boy appearance.

The cigarettes,

his leather jacket,

his cocky smirk that he wore oh-so much.

"Maybe when daddy isn't home, you and I can smoke a whole pack. Just you, me, and Arctic Monkeys playing in the background."

Clarity rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, "You wish, pretty boy."

Michael's hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer so they were merely inches apart, "It's not a wish when it'll happen, baby girl." He whispered in her ear before releasing his grip on her and walking back home.