complicated ; clifford

prologue thing

"Michael looks so hot with red hair, I just can't."

"I really hope that Cake is a real, actual legit thing, because then I would freak!"

"Have you guys seen the Good Girls music video? It's so hot omigosh!"

Will anyone just shut the fuck up about 5 Seconds of Summer for one second and realize that there's no point in going on and on and on about a bunch of boys who will never know who you are? Apparently not. I mean they were just four annoying, cocky, manwhores. They go around being jerks to people and sleeping around with hot girls. Not much worth talking about there.

I was just doing my usual, sitting in the school cafeteria, by myself, and listening to other people's conversations, which were never interesting these days. All boys and movies and bullshit. I had friends at one point, a whole lot of them. But I have a talent, and it's pushing people out. So now, I guess I'm what you would call a social outcast. I looked at the table that used to be mine, full of people. My ex- best friend, Jacqueline- or Jackie as her friends call her- looked so happy without me. But there was always something sad in her eyes. She had everything, a perfect boyfriend, parents that spoiled her, why would she ever be sad? Well anyways, there was my ex- boyfriend, Brandon seemed to have changed a lot. He had a new girlfriend, or something like that, I think they're just having sex. His eyes didn't sparkle when he laughed anymore, and he started biting his nails. I watched these guys everyday, and I missed them so bad, but I have a reason for everything I do, and this whole "pushing people out" thing was for a reason. That reason was that I was depressed. Majorly depressed. Suicidal. The year that I pushed everyone out, I attempted suicide. Took two whole bottles of pills. After I fucking survived and saw how sad it made everyone, I decided I shouldn't have anyone care about me anymore. It was better off that way. I was better off that way, and everyone else was too. That day, when I woke up in the hospital surrounded by faces of people that loved me, I decided that I couldn't get close to anybody, ever. I don't want to hurt anybody. Except myself.
~
When I got off the bus that day, I usually go straight to my house, but today, I decided to go to the park near my house. It was a rainy day, which I liked, and it would be nice to just sit outside in the rain and listen to my music. I walked over to the park and put my earbuds in. I put my music on shuffle, and the first song was Somewhere in Neverland by All Time Low. I sat down on a swing and closed my eyes, taking in the music, slightly rocking in the swing. But my little music session was disturbed by a tap on my shoulder. I turned my head and saw someone had taken a seat on the swing next to me. I recognized that face immediately, and oh how I hated that face. My face must've showed it too, because Michael automatically looked a little scared, but he quickly changed back to his normal happy self.

"What do you want, Clifford?" I asked, just wanting to get this moment over with.

"I uh, I just wanted to say that I love your sweatshirt, and you are, well one of the most beautiful girls I've ever seen," he quickly responded. "and I like the nickname," Michael giggled.

I looked down, and saw my Green Day sweatshirt. But then the other thing he had said clicked into my brain. Beautiful? What the fuck was this guy thinking? Michael Clifford cannot call me beautiful. Because I'm not. I mean, this isn't the first time someone's calling me that, but still.

"Whatever," I got up to go walk back to my house before this guy raped me.

"Wait... I never got your name!" Michael called after me.

Why does this stalker want my name? I was debating whether to tell him or not when he interrupted my thoughts.

"Anna," Michael gasped, from running after me. "That's a really pretty name."

"What the fuck? How did you get my name?" I asked, not so surprised, but still really creeped out.

"There's a name tag on your bag," Michael stated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Mhm," I said, having no idea about what to say next, considering the fact that I was just meeting the guy that I had grown to hate over the last few years.

"Hey, Anna, do you want to go grab ice cream with me?" Michael asked.

"Have ice cream with you? Really? So you think that since you're the Michael Clifford, you can pick every girl up? Well you're wrong. I'm not falling for it. That's a promise," I said as I marched off.

"I'm going to pretend I never heard that and see if maybe you'll just give me your number? So we can keep in touch? Yanno, as friends?" Michael asked, obviously not giving up.

"If I give you my number, will you stop bothering me?"

"Does texting you count?"

"Ugh. Here's my number," I said, pulling a piece of paper out of my pocket, not even bothering to see what was on it, and scribbling my number on it in messy handwriting.

Michael just grinned as he read the ten digits over and over again, his smile getting better every time he read it. I didn't have time for this dork, so I just walked away, and luckily, he didn't follow me back to my house.
~
"Oh, there you are," My mom said as I walked inside my house. "I was worried about you-"

"Yeah mom, that's great, but the thing is I really don't care," I said as I ran up to my room. I knew she didn't really care, anyways. It's kind of hard to care about your children when they're as bitchy as me. I slammed my door shut and sunk down until I was sitting with my knees against my chest. I pulled out my phone to see seven missed texts and two missed calls from none other than Michael Clifford.

'Hey Anna!'
'It's Michael btw'
'I had fun talking to you today!'
'Do you think you would want to get ice cream with me tomorrow?'
'Whats your favorite Green Day song?'
'Or your favorite 5SOS song?"
'Jk lol;)"

I decided to call this asshole popstar up, since I had a few questions of my own to ask. He picked up on the first ring, no surprise.

"Hey An-" I cut him off before he could say anything else.

"21 Guns." I said before my whirlwind of questions came out.

"What?" Michael laughed.

"My favorite Green Day song. 21 Guns." I said, as I hung up.
~
is this a good start? it's kinda shitty but i'll try to make it better:))