5SOS One Shots

Change for you - Michael Clifford

"Michael?" It came out as a hoarse whisper, as I took hold of his hands and studied him closely.

"You look different. You're..." I was tongue-tied, I just didn't know how to say it. Michael took it as an opportunity to lean in and kiss me, pressing his lips softly against mine as our mouths moved in sync. Taking hold of my cheek, he gently nibbled onto my lip, asking for entrance which I quickly granted. Our tongues danced as I clutched onto his chest, one hand wandering up to his hair, which was surprisingly... Normal.

"Mm-Michael." I repeated, catching for breath as I pulled away momentarily. A small smile grew on my face as I gaze him a puzzled look.

"Your hair, and your clothes. You look, ordinary." There was a hint of disappointment in my tone which he recognised. He told hold of my hands and sat down with me on my bed. We were so close to each other, I could feel his warm breath against my neck and the faint smell of his cologne. I was eye-level with those gorgeous lips and I just wanted to kiss him all over again, but I needed an explanation.

"I changed, for you." Michael told me, a sad smile on his face. "I took the colour off my hair, I ditched the ripped jeans and I've stopped drinking. It's what you wanted, right?"

Guilt settled in my stomach as I realised what I've done to him. It was so long ago, years even, but he still loved me and changed like I wanted.

"But... It's not you." I told him, tears welling up in my eyes. "I'm so sorry, Michael, you liked me all those years ago but I rejected you because you were different. My parents and friends didn't approve of you and I... I was just thinking of myself, as always."

I rested my head in his chest and I could feel his muscular arms wrap around me. I missed this feeling so much, I felt protected again. I pulled away only slightly, so I was still holding onto him and staring into his eyes, only millimetres apart.

"I'm sorry I've made you do this. I might have liked it then, but I don't like it now. I want the Michael Clifford I used to know, the crazy-haired, energetic guitar player who would drive me around in his car and tell me stupid stories and serenade me late at night."

I couldn't read Michael's expression, but it was adorable, a mixture of shock and pure joy.

"So... You like me the way I am?" He asked. I leaned in and planted a sweet, gentle kiss on his lips.

"Does that answer your question?"