fanboy ↦ michael clifford {au}

fifteen: satisfied

CHAPTER FIFTEEN:

| michael’s pov |

I was carried along by the crowd around me; their bodies bumping into mine, but I made no move at all. They were all trying to reach the front– the door but failed, with the barricades in their way.

Staring dully at the person who opened the door, I wondered why I was even here. Why did I go here? It has always been a dream of mine to meet them, but that dream was slowly deteriorating and making no sense to me.

I didn’t need to meet them anymore. No, not again.

“Amber, Amber!” countless of people called, trying to get the girl to take a picture with them or sign something. 

She, of course, complied to their requests. They are her fans.

The people behind me pushed further, as if they were desperate to catch even a glimpse of Amber. I let myself be brought to the back, ignoring the pain in my body and in my chest.

The crowd died down eventually, as the door to the hotel open and closed. The reason for the noise was gone, and all that was left was the experience of the lifetime of some of them.

Some fans, as they left the place, eyed me curiously, seeing as I was the only guy there. Others shrugged me off, since I was just another face in the crowd. 

But even though the number of people decreased, I stood there. I didn’t know if I was waiting on someone, but I knew I was waiting for something to happen. 

The metal railings were pulled away by a couple of guards, but I was still there. I didn’t go in, I didn’t go home, I didn’t move. I was just there. 

Sometimes, I would wrinkle my nose, thinking about what I wanted to happen. I thought long and hard while watching the people pass in and out of the building. 

I came up with the conclusion that I’d like to have one look at Belle. I wanted to see her, even if it was just a quick view of her black hair or her bright smile.

I wanted to remember; I wanted to take in her appearance. Other than that, I’d forget the rest. I’d forget the silence, I’d forget all my dreams, and I’d forget that I even spoke with her.

It was something that didn’t seem possible, but I could always try. There was nothing wrong with forgetting– especially if it was for the better.

The moment I saw her walk out and tuck a piece of her hair behind her ear, I nodded to myself and walked away.

I was satisfied with just watching her from afar, or from a screen.

I was satisfied with just that.