5 Seconds of Summer Oneshots

Forget Me Not Pt. 2 || Michael Clifford

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Type: Oneshot

Pairing: [Y/N], Michael

Word Count: 1, 487

Rating: G? PG 13?

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My plan to get my Michael back, failed.

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            Two hours. It took me two hours to build up the nerve to walk into that room and look at a boy who won’t even recognize me. All I wanted to do was rush in and hold him in my arms. Apologize for everything. Tell him I love him. But he would just look at me with a blank expression, possibly terrified by me. I peek through the window door to look at him. His head was bandaged as he stared at the small TV, uninterested. He looked different, not just because of the bandages and bruises complexion. He looked lost and confused.

            I winced, wanting to confront him and tell him everything was going to be okay. That I was going to make sure everything went back to normal; that I had this plan of action. Suddenly feeling overwhelmed with joy and regret, I opened the door slowly. His eyes wandered to me, and I froze. His lips parted, his eyes grew wide and I couldn’t help but blush.

            Walking over to him slowly, my eyes glued to his, I saw my Michael. I saw the Michael I fell in love with and I knew, locked in that scrambled brain of his, he knew me too. That’s when this plan of action developed.

            I wasn’t going to force him to remember what we were or how much we loved each other because he might not want that. I’m not going to force love on someone who doesn’t remember what love was once there. When he remembers about us, that’s when the love will be real. I need to start over.

            Smiling I sat down next to him, taking his hand into mine like I always used to do. Rubbing my thumb on the back of his hand in a calming matter, he flinched. Staring down at our contact, he looked at it like it reminded him of something.

            “Hi Michael,” I cheekily smiled.

            “Hi,” he breathed, staring up at me in awe.

            “You don’t remember me,” I said, my voice low and calm. “But I’m...I’m your... best friend.”

            I gulped down my lie, as his cheeks turned a bright red. “There’s no way you’re my best friend,” he mumbled, looking away. “You’re way to pretty to be my friend.”

            I smiled, a giggle forcing its way through. His lips curved into a grin, giving my hand a squeeze. “I like your giggle.”

            Blushing, I loved that his cute, awkward side was still there. “What’s your name?” he asked, rubbing the side of his head. “I’ve seemed to forgotten it, I’m awful at remembering names.”

            “Rae,” I lied, taking my lip harshly between my teeth. I’m starting over, I remember thinking. I’m starting over for you Michael, please come back to me. Please remember me.

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            Eight months today of lying to him about me being his best friend, and I’ve made little progress. I’ve spent every waking moment with him and it’s been tortuous since the day he started the intense physiotherapy.