Michael Clifford Imagines/Preferences

He Loves Holding Your Hand

It was 11:03 and you were staring at the clock in your room. Tic toc goes the clock I think I just heard a knock. You laughed at your own rhyming, but then you froze, something actually was knocking on your window. Nobody else was home so you figured maybe it's starting to rain a bit outside. You opened the curtain and Michael was standing there about to throw another pebble. You slid the window open, "Mikey, what are you doing?"

He laughed, "I saw it in a movie and I wanted to get your attention."

You smiled at him and said,"You know, it normally works better in a two story house."

He walked up to you and kissed your cheek, "yeah, but you live in a one story house so this will have to do."

He climbed through the window and plopped down on the floor in your room. You shut the window and walked over to your bed. How did I get so lucky? You grabbed some pillows and threw them at him, he quickly dodged one but still got hit by the next one. "y/n come on, it's late, don't you think I'm here for a reason?" Michael opened his arms and waited for you to sit down and cuddle with him. You kissed his cheek, "okay, okay, so why are you here babe?"

He smiled, "cause you're so gosh darn cute and I wanted to hang out with you."

You laughed, "Mikey, you could've called and I would've just gone over to your place."

"Yeah, I know, but sometimes I think about you and my body sort of just moves on it's own, and before I knew it - I was here!!" he held your hand and looked at them.

"Michael? What're you looking at?"

Michael kissed your cheek and then went back to looking at your hand. What is he looking at? He's been staring for five minutes. Finally he laughed and squeezed you a bit tighter. "Mikey, I kept asking, what were you looking at?" He smiled and held up his hand, your fingers were intertwined, "look at your hand and mine, they're so different." You couldn't help but giggle, sometimes Michael would just let his mind wander. You looked at your hands, "and?"

 He kissed your hand, "they're so different, but they just fit so perfectly together, it's like my hand was missing a piece and your hand just happens to fit it perfectly." 

You squeezed his hand, "yeah, I guess your right, they do fit perfectly..."

Michael kissed your cheek one last time before you both fell asleep. 

Sometimes we think the perfect person is the one that can make you laugh when you're sad, or the one that takes care of you when you're sick, but not everyone is good at those things, so sometimes, the perfect person is just someone who has hands that were made to hold yours.