You knew he was trouble.
Of course you did, the way he carried himself was proof enough, not to mention his arrogance and sharp tongue that no teacher seemed to be able to tame. And while you knew he wasn't right for you and that no one in your life, including yourself, would approve of him, you started to think differently about him.
He has ceramics with you during the last class period of the day. After being sat next to him thanks to an unfortunate seating chart, you began to realize he's the exact opposite of his initial persona. In fact, he's kind and soft towards you, always asking how your day has been and making you laugh.
You never knew why he acted this way around you in class because it could easily ruin his bad boy facade. But, oddly, he didn't care when it came to you. You were different.
You and Michael became closer than you ever thought you'd be, especially considering you never would have thought of being friends with Michael Clifford to begin with.
One day you two decide to stay late to work on your next assignment. The classroom is empty and you are seated towards each other, working on your art with funny side comments and casual conversation. Suddenly, you feel a wet substance land on your huge, stained shirt solely meant for messy projects. You frantically look between the sludge of grey on your chest and Michael's guilty face, his damp hand arched slightly in a throwing position and a blush creeping to his cheeks.
"Oh-shit. I'm so sorry."
He bites back a husky chuckle as he apologizes, the embarrassed expression forming into a smirk. You shoot him a glare, scooping the clay from your garment and slinging it back in his direction. His chuckle evolves to a chorus of laughs from the both of you, grey clay flying at each other and ceramic assignments forgotten.
You pool another handful onto your palm, chasing the handsome boy around the empty classroom. He shrieks for mercy and you completely neglect his cries, cornering him with a massively wide grin on your smudged face. He holds his hands up in surrender and you notice his smile mirrors your own.
Just before you can unleash your joke fury, the door to the art department opens. Standing in the doorway are two boys your recognize instantaneously as Calum Hood and Luke Hemmings. They practically ooze cockiness and you back away from the door, remembering they are actually Michael's friends.
You glance quickly at Michael, still hunched in the corner a few feet from you. He jerks his head towards them and straightens up. Luke opens his mouth to speak and you already feel the venom dripping from his coming words.
"Well, well, well. What do we have here?"
He says, his lips twitching into a smirk while Calum crosses his arms across his chest. Michael peeks at you at in his peripheral vision, and you can tell his eyes are hardened.
"Have you found a new play thing, mate?"
Calum sneers, looking you up and down. You glare at him and feel bile in your throat out of disgust.
The black haired boy's attitude transforms as he rolls his eyes, shoving Calum lightly and shooting a nasty look your way, which makes your heart break.
"Don't worry, she's nothing to worry about. Just came on to me."
You take another step back and feel tears slightly prick at your eyes, threatening to spill over and fall down your face, but you bite your tongue. His face doesn't match his words.
"Damn, y/n. Never pictured you as a desperate one. Could've came on me like that and I wouldn't have turned you down. "
Calum's joke resonates in your ears, causing a stabbing feeling to occur in your chest the moment you realize Michael laughing along with them, the boy you were chasing just moments ago completely gone.
