What Happens on Tour (A Michael Clifford fanfic)

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

You sighed.

“Please [y/n] tell me.  What really happened if you didn’t cheat on me?”

“Maybe you should sit down?”  You offered, indicating the seat next to you.

He took the one across from you and you rolled your eyes at his immaturity. 

He looked at you and you took a deep breath before telling him all about the worst day of your life.

"Matthew was my best friend.  I’d known him since I was 10.  He was moving to France to be with his Grandma – she was sick, really sick.

I helped him carry his stuff down to the taxi.  I said goodbye to him and kissed his cheek.

I thought nothing of it because I did it all the time.

Then he said he always liked m.

I wasn’t prepared for that.

He was like a brother to me and I was with you.

Before I could even respond he kissed me.

I pushed him away as soon as I could.

I told him I didn’t feel the same and that I loved you.  He said he understood and got in the taxi and left. 

Then I got home and you’d smashed everything up.

I tried to explain but you wouldn’t listen."

“Why would I cheat on you?  I loved you – I still love you.  You were my whole world.  I trusted you – you were supposed to trust me.  You didn’t even let me explain…” you trailed off.

 A lump was already forming in your throat by the time you finished but you refused to cry in front of him.

You looked up at him and saw he was messing with the sleeves of his jumper.

He did that when he was nervous you recalled.  It was strange how you remembered the little things like that.

He was silent for a long time.

You took this time to study him properly.  You wanted to smile but the look on his face stopped you.  He looked like a lost boy.  Like his whole world had been shattered, like he was questioning everything.  You mused that that’s what you must have looked like when he left you two years ago.  It didn’t feel like two years; it didn’t even seem like two weeks.  You didn’t think you’d changed but you could see Michael had.  He’d grown taller and filled out, he’d dyed his hair and his voice was deeper.  He still seemed the same though – still as immature you thought smiling.   His accent was less obvious due to his time away from home and his eyes looked less innocent than two years ago.

He studied you while you were thinking and he noticed things too.  You’d grown a bit taller and you hair was longer.  It was lighter than when he’d left.  He noticed that you still bit your lip when you were thinking and that you sat on your hands to stop yourself from fidgeting.  He concealed a knowing smile.  You wore more make up than two years ago and he frowned thinking that you didn’t need it but that you looked beautiful either way.

He looked into your eyes, searching for anything that would tell him that you were lying, any reason not to take you back.  You let him search knowing you had nothing to hide.

After almost twenty minutes of silence he finally said those two words you longed to hear for so long.

“I’m sorry”