fanboy ↦ michael clifford {au}

twenty-eight: mummy's boy

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT:

| michael’s pov |

I placed the envelope in my pocket, sure that it wouldn’t fly out or seen. If all else failed tonight, at least I could give her this. I would still be able to redeem myself.

This was probably one of the perks of being a fan– I knew what she liked and what she disliked. I can actually give something meaningful.

I smoothed out my plaid shirt, trying to make it seem like it was ironed, but that never works out. It just folds again. I thought I had this date planned out, and I’d look good for once. 

That didn’t work out for me.

Suddenly, I was rattled with my mum shouting at me to get downstairs. I looked at the clock; it was twenty five minutes past seven, which meant she was twenty five minutes late.

From all the time I’ve spent knowing her, I was quite proud to say I knew she would be late. Everyone says she’s bad with time.

I headed downstairs, skipping some steps to get there faster. 

Belle was there, in her usual attire of a shirt and jeans. I always wondered how she’s done it– to look absolutely beautiful with something so simple.

“Hey, Michael!” She greeted, grinning at me.

Unfortunately for me, my mum was standing right beside her. Every move I’d make would mean something more to her. I smiled back, nonetheless, hoping I could get out of here already.

“Say hi, Michael,” my mum reprimanded, out loud. Belle giggled; she must think I’m a mummy’s boy after all of this.

“Hi, Belle,” I mumbled, against my will. 

My mum nodded, pleased with herself. She pushed me beside Belle and gave me a thumbs-up, as if she was approving the two of us. 

I shook my head and took Belle’s hand, saying a quick ‘bye’ before shutting the door. I let out a relieved sigh; I got to escape further shame.

“Sorry about that.” I was embarrassed; I really was.

"It's fine; don't worry about it!" Belle shook her head, and fixed her hold on my hand. 

I almost forgot I was actually holding her hand. If I knew earlier, I would’ve let go, but with what I was feeling, I didn’t want to anymore.

She was the one securing me, like she was telling me it was okay. It was like what I imagined in my head all over again, though now, she was here, in the flesh. And we were going on a date. 

“Thank you.” But no– I don’t think she’d even understand how grateful I was for her. She’d never know how she’d saved me.

“No problem!” She replied, almost instantly.

I let my eyes meet hers for a second, and I immediately focused on where we were going. 

If I looked at her any longer, I would have kissed her.