the only exception // mc

1

I watch as Michael walks around the room, talking to the different people who are at the party. He floats around the room as I sit on the couch; this is what he was made for. He was made for socializing. people are what he's good at. I am completely content sitting and watching him smile, watching him laugh at the jokes Calum tells him. He's my favourite thing on earth; nothing in the world could change that.

For me, it has always been him. It will always be him.

I have no before. I pray that I will have no after.

It took time, but he found a way to make me his. I was stubborn, just like I always am, but he found a way. He found a way under my skin even though I had spent my entire life building walls to keep something like this from happening.

I had no intentions of falling in love. I had grown up thinking that love was something fictional, created by authors and musicians. Michael had somehow managed to prove me wrong, and now I can't imagine going back to how I was before. He flipped my world upside down.

I had spent my entire life watching two people who claimed to love each other let their relationship disintegrate and crumble right before their very eyes. My parents fought like there was nothing else they could possibly do. It never, ever stopped. They were constantly at battle, waging small wars, and the winner was declared when the other member shed the first tear. That was the type of wound they were trying to create. No bloodshed, just broken hearts.

It finally ended when I was ten. My mother left my father for another man, who she later left as well, claiming that it was impossible to find real love. She left my father in shambles, absolutely broken. The war had finally ended; she was the victor.

And I knew I wasn't alone. There were tons of people around me who had broken homes, broken family. It became evident to me at a young age that love just didn't exist in the real world.

After that, I stayed away from romance, from lust and feelings and desires that were anything more than hormonal. I did well with this. I never had a boyfriend until Michael came along. I lived for one night stands and drunken mistakes and things that never mattered and it worked for me.

When I met Michael, I was twenty years old and working as a bartender. he sat down directly in front of me and said, "hi love. I'd like your most expensive beer", and he had the cockiest smile spread across his face. He was gorgeous, with his brightly coloured hair and his shit eating grin. I just rolled my eyes at him and handed him the full bottle of Crown Ambassador Reserve.

"That'll be ninety dollars." I told him, holding my hand out for the money. I'd worn the cockiest smile I could muster, hoping that it would beat his. His friends eyes had widened; I knew what he was thinking. 'Ninety dollars for beer? That's outrageous'. and it was. But the boy had asked and he'd received.

The entire night, we shot sarcastic comments back and forth across the bar. When last call arrived, I'd found myself disappointed. I'd enjoyed our witty banter.

"Alright," he'd started. "please tell me you'll let me take you out on a date." I'd smiled tightly and shook my head.

"I'm sorry, but I don't date." He'd smiled at me, and I'd found myself hoping that I'd see that smile again, but I pushed that feeling back. I'd had no time, no patience for something trivial like romance. I wasn't the type of person to play make believe.

"What kind of person doesn't date?" He asked, resting his head on his hand, expecting to receive a full story from me. As if I came across as the type of person to give full disclosure. I was closed off and hard to read; I knew it and I enjoyed it. My father was the only person who really knew me, and it was better that way.

If you don't let people in, they can't leave you.

"The type of person who knows that love and everything to do with it is fake. People who claim they're in love? It's all a facade." Michael had smirked at me.

"Well, you've just got it all figured out, haven't you?" His green eyes danced, and I mentally cursed at myself for even realizing they were green. Instead of shooting back a snarky remark, I had turned away from him and started putting glasses back where they belonged.

"You should probably just go." I'd said. And he did. It had taken me a long time to admit to myself that the feeling in my chest had been disappointment.