He doesn't blame you.
He doesn't blame you for being so oblivious to his clumsy movements, his stuttering words, his lingering eyes. He doesn't blame you for not knowing you're his every waking thought, for not knowing the idea of you is what gets him out of his bed as well as what lulls him to sleep.
How could you? You are a sunbeam in the lives of those who love you, constantly emitting warmth and radiation wherever and whenever it is needed.
'High on life' always seemed to be a term crafted specifically to describe who you are. You just happen to be so 'high on life' that others' emotions and feelings slide past you, going unnoticed. You don't mean for them too, but being as cheerful as you are, it's difficult to see the struggles of the loved ones surrounding you, as they lurk on every corner or shadow of sadness.
You unofficially decided that bad moods and harsh words don't suit you. Laughter was heard more than sentences or phrases from you and people, especially Michael, became accustom to the thought that laughter is, in fact, your intended voice. Practically anything could make you happy, from the smell of mint and lavender to a certain song or guitar riff you never seem grow tired of.
You are his perfect ray of sunshine. One of the only things keeping him from being swallowed up in a pit of shame and loneliness. That's the one and only trouble with you, he consistently teeters on the edge of destruction as well as the verge of undeniable happiness.
Your love for certain tunes is what started it all for him. All of the never ending daydreams of the two of you, sitting in a studio, simply strumming chords together or singing off-key melodies. He cherishes that about you, your adoration for music that closely matches his, as he does everything else. It's clear to him that there isn't a single flaw about you, although angels aren't meant to be roaming the earth, especially in his dull life. Sometimes he questions whether or not you're real, if you're just a figment of his lonesome imagination.
But he is always reminded of how real you truly are every time the searing pain rips through his chest when he thinks about never being able to call you 'his', never being called 'yours'.
You aren't self-centered, you're just so irrevocably joyful and radiant, and he's just so irretrievably in love and unnoticed.
-x-x-x-
He is happy you don't see it, although sometimes he wishes he could confess his infatuation in screams from a rooftop. His friends find humor in the obviousness of it all, snickering every time a familiar dark shade creeps to his cheeks at the sight of you. He can't help it.
Each time the sun shines on you, don't you feel how it graces your skin and sends warm chills up your spine?
He watches you, green eyes swelling with relentless adoration, as you recount you're many unfortunate experiences with men to your friends, bubbly despite the depressing note in the tales. Calum, Luke, and Ashton laugh at every joke, listening intently to your stories.
But Michael just thinks of how terrible the past boyfriends have treated you, knowing full well he'd respect and love you like the princess you are. He'd never fail to show you as well as tell you how much you mean to him. The thought of you being loved any less than you deserve makes him ache, almost as much as the thought of him not being the one loving you.
Oh, how he wishes he could show you the full extent of his love. If you were with him, every night you would be reminded of the passion and happiness you place in his heart. He would make sure to remind you every waking second how hopelessly devoted to you his is and always will be.
-x-x-x-
"He dumped me."
You say one day, shuffling into the male-infested apartment with a shrug. Michael knows you too well. That tenuous sign of defeat is your way of coming apart. You wouldn't cry in front of them, but this is not your characteristic giddiness and they all know it. The tall blue haired boy instinctively folds your small frame into his chest, wanting to sooth you properly but settling for the only thing acceptable in your platonic relationship, a tight embrace.
"Mikey,"
His heart thumps hard against his chest when he hears the nickname leave your mouth, it never fails to make shivers run up his arms.
"I'm fine, really. He was a douche anyways."
The other three boys surround the two of you, forming a group hug. After a few mumbled "I'm sorry's" from the others, the hug disperses and everyone returns to their previous activities.
Except for Michael.
He doesn't loosen his grip on your for a second. You pull away slightly, tilting your head up to look him in his beautiful eyes. His breath catches at the sight of your face so near to his, hopefully not loud enough for you to hear.
"Why am I such a terrible judge of character. Every single guy I've been with has proven to be an insufferable dickhead and I can't seem to break my losing streak. I think I'm cursed."
You giggle at your comment, causing his lips to turn up in a soft smile and a slight shake of his head. Michael stares at you in awe, tracing over your facial features with his gaze and ending on your own questioning eyes. He feels the overwhelming urge to place a kiss to your pink lips, whispering reassuring words to you and telling you he loves you. But he can't. So he just tucks you into him again, brushing your hair down your back with one hand and grinning like an idiot at your closeness with his chin resting on your head. He whispers a rush of words to himself he wishes he could say audibly to you, but, as usual, he can't.
"I'm right here."
-x-x-x-
a/n: this is a little more eloquent for those of you who like that sort of thing. request if you want part two or if you want more writing like this(: thanks
~ab
