Michael Clifford Imagines

Facing the Inevitable (Part 3)

"Hello?" You called to the dark hallway. The lights above you flickered, allowing you to see the pale white walls and floor tiles. "Where am I?" You asked yourself. The last thing you remembered was calling out to Michael to help you, and you were suddenly here... Where was here?

"This way!" A voice called from the opposite end of the hallway. You'd been watching a few scary movies with Michael lately, so you knew following the mysterious voice was probably a good way to get yourself killed, but it was either follow the voice or stay in the creepy hallway. "Come on, (Y/N). You're not here long, hurry up." The voice yelled back, causing you to walk a little faster. When you reached the end, you recognized where you were.

You were standing in the lobby of the hospital, except this time it wasn't as colorful as you remembered. It was as if someone had come through and spray painted every inch of the room white. The floor tiles, the couches, the front desks, coffee tables, everything except an old CD player. It sat on the front desk, on low volume. "And can you hear the sound of hysteria? The subliminal mind fuck America."

"American Idiot?" If you still need convincing, every time we were there, the song American Idiot by Green Day was playing on the radio on the front desk. The entire time. Not once did the song change. How could all of us dream of that same song? "No way."

"Like the song? It's my favorite. Always has been. But, I do have to admit, listening to it all the time does get kind of boring." You whipped around, backing up into the desk when you saw him. Dark brown hair, blonde highlights, tanned skin, tattoos up his arm... It couldn't be.

"This is a dream. You're in a coma. I can't be talking to you."

"Yeah, yeah. It's impossible. Blah, blah, blah. I know. I've heard it before. But, somehow we're both here and I'm talking to you, so let's skip the denial phase, okay?" You were speechless. The boy you'd know to be in a coma was now standing in front of you, fully alert and awake. He was taller than you thought he'd be, easily as tall as Michael, but a few inches shorter than Luke. He was wearing the same 'Santa Cruz' shirt as before, accompanied by black skinny jeans and dark leather boots. Slowly you reached out, lightly touching his arm, before immediately pulling it back. He laughed, seeing your scared expression covering your face.

"Come on, lets sit down." He said before wrapping his right arm around your shoulders, and guiding you in the direction of the couch. He sat you down before taking a seat across from you on the coffee table. "Alright. I'm sure you have questions. I do too. Since we don't have a lot of time, let's get your questions out of the way. I can answer those fairly quickly."

"Okay. Where are we? It looks like the lobby, but that wouldn't make sense."

"We're some place between sleep and awake. How did you get here? You passed out, but Dr. McAndrew put you on a sedative to run some more tests. That's why you're here. People who are under a deep sleep come and visit. Yes, visit. You're not here permanently."

"So when you said I don't have much time, it means I will be leaving soon?"

"Yes, people don't usually stay here long term."

"What about you? How long are you here?"

"Now that is a good question. I'd like to think that I'm just passing through as well. But, coma's take a lot longer. So, right now I kind of just direct traffic and meet new people, make some friends."

"Like Michael?"

"Yeah. What color is his hair now? His latest surgery was about a month or so ago. His hair was purple then. He kept calling it Lilac, but it's just the same thing. He's a cool lad. I swear he talks about you all the time."