5SOS Imagines

Michael Clifford: Can't take it

"Mikey! Babe? I'm home!" you yelled as you walked into you and your boyfriend's shared flat, "Michael?"

You walked through the apartment into the living room to find Michael sitting on the couch, elbows on knees, his head in his hands. You noticed him shaking slightly.

"Michael baby, whats wrong?" you asked, concerned now.

He didn't answer, he just let out a sob. You walked over to the couch and sat next to him, wrapping your arms around his waist.

"You're scaring me baby," you said, rubbing his back, "please tell me whats wrong?"

"I can't take it anymore (Y/N)." he answered, burying his head in the crook of your neck.

"What can't you take Mikey?" you aked, stroking his hair now.

"Everything! The hate, the stress, just...everything! We still have half an album to write by next week and we're not going to get it done! I don't know what we're going to do!" he said shakily. 

"Babe, listen to me right now," you grabbed his chin and forced him to look at you,"You are perfect. I know what the haters have been saying, and they are wrong. You are perfect. You belong in the band. You deserve everything good that has happened to you. They are just jealous Mikey, they will never have as much success as you have. And as for the album? I know you guys will finish. You always do. But over working yourself will only make it harder. I believe in you, okay?" you finished and hugged him tight.

"I love you (Y/N)," he said before kissing you, "so, so much."

"Love you too, Michael."

You grabbed his hand and pulled him off the couch.

"Now come on, I think a certain someone needs a trip to GameStop." you grinned while pulling him towards the door.

He stopped walking and stared at you.

"You. Are. Amazing." he smiled wide as he dragged a laughing you out the door.