5SOS Preferences

Hero (Michael)

"Michael Clifford?"

The room was silent. You, however, kept your gaze firmly locked on the small crevices that was etched into my desk. The sound of heels clicking against the cold tiled floor sent your heart racing as they ever so slowly crept toward you.

There had always been the suspicion of Michael and why for the past couple months he had occasionally been late to class. No body knew why; Michael only really had one friend he managed to keep. Unfortunately, that was you, and you were always the one questioned because of it. You always said the same thing he told you to say: 'Oh, it must be his darn car. It's a piece of junk; he should really get rid of it.' Yet, giving the same excuse was starting to raise even more suspicion. And you couldn't just lie; if you did then everything would fall apart because you absolutely suck at lying. Michael knew that (very well, actually) but he made you do it anyway.

The clicking was so loud you felt an itch on your teeth. Trying desperately not to look nervous or anxious at all, you crossed your arms and leaned back in your chair, causing a screech of your chair leg on the tile floor to echo around. You mentally screamed at yourself, but kept your face straight as you looked into the professors eyes. "Y/n, do you know where Mr. Clifford is?"

The solid look on your face faltered; you felt it. A twitch signaled in one of your fingers, and caught the professors eye. Just as you took a deep breath, and was about to ruin the whole thing, there was a voice from the doorway.

"Goodmorning, Professor McLoftin!"

Everyones eyes flew over to where Michael was standing, dark hair in an asymmetric mass on his head, one hand stuffed into his jean jacket pocket, and his other holding a Starbucks cup. His green eyes stayed on the professor, but when she looked away he sent you a quick wink. Professor McLoftin cleared her throat and adjusted her glasses. "Mr. Clifford, I hope you have a good explanation for being late."

"I do," he said, beinning to walk to the empty seat in front of me. "You see, today my car wouldn't start at all, so my mom had to call a company to come and fix it. Having no ride, I decided to walk down to the Starbucks not far from my house, and was offered a ride, but had to wait until after his shift was finished. It took longer than expected, but I got, and that's the most important thing, isn't it?"

The professor huffed slightly as he slumped down into the seat, casually setting the coffee onto the top of my desk and covering the crevices I had been staring at. While the professor typed something into the computer, you leaned forward and asked, "Who gave you a ride?"

"No one," he responded.

Before you could question his response, Professor McLoftin moved to the front of the class. "Mr. Clifford, in the future, please try to make it to class on time. Find a more reliable ride - I'm sure Y/n would give you one."

He laughed quietly, and I quirked my eyebrow as you gingerly took a sip from the coffee he gave you. "I'm sure she would," he said quietly. The professor continued narrowing her eyes at him, but eventually turned and started the lesson of the day.

Michael continued in doing his usual thing: doing absolutely nothing but pretending to write notes and doodle. You attempted to listen intently and wrote down things that you knew you would forget later on, but kept thinking about why he hasn't told you the whole truth when you were, in fact, each others only friends. You were about to tap his shoulder and ask a question like 'Tell me where you were', or 'You know, I could give you a ride', but you noticed something on his jacket. A spot. As you peered closer, your eyes widened a mile as you realized that it was blood on his jacket.

The shrill ring of the bell startled you, making you jump in your desk and knocking off a book, some papers, and your still half-full coffee cup onto the floor. You stumbled a bit as you knelt down to pick up your dropped items, then heard the professor yell, "I expect that to be cleaned up before I get back, Y/n."