Michael Imagine: You Elope
He was wild and reckless and spontaneous and he kept you on your toes; he kept you falling for him with every adventure, every last-minute trip, only to catch you again at the very last moment with a smirk on his lips, a mischievous grin that you knew read nothing but trouble.
Michael was a hurricane, and you let yourself get swept away by him.
He was an unpredictable force of energy that left you breathless - some sort of toxic drug that you couldn’t resist. You knew he was bad for you. You knew his ideas were stupid at best and dangerous at worst, but you couldn’t keep away from him.
Not when he said your name with those red lips as if it was a secret; a treasure that he kept safe for himself. Not when you knew the toxic taste of his mouth against yours, consuming you, killing you - but there was something about the way he always held you close with an urgency in his touch and an animalistic hunger in his lips that was absolutely irresistible.
He was a drug, your downfall - his love would be your killer.
But you can’t help but think that his lips on yours would be the best way to die.
You fell for him without looking back, jumping head-first into his love without caring about the dangers that circled the edges.
You knew he’d always catch you within an inch of the collision.
You loved the thrill, the fall, the adrenaline - you loved him.
Such sweet, sweet poison.
When he asked you to run away with him, you said yes without hesitation.
You never did say no to him.
He took your hand and you followed, not knowing where you were going but trusting in the unpredictable boy all the same.
He was a wild animal, but you never set out to tame him. You walked towards him with open arms, knowing full well that he might leave you dying on the ground, but going all the same.
You were foolish and he was reckless and the two of you were a toxic mix of stupidity and love that had the both of you drunk off each other.
Maybe that’s all love was.
It was stupid to put so much faith in someone who was as wild and brash as Michael - with him, there was no guarantee in anything.
Skipping from here to there; ideas coming and going and changing so fast you could barely keep up with it.
He was impulsive and stubborn and couldn’t stay in one place for a second; couldn’t hold anything down, least of all responsibilities or stability.
Everyone was surprised he could hold you down for so long.
They didn’t understand, though. Nobody did.
Michael didn’t hold you down, he picked you up and showed you the world through his eyes. You didn’t want responsibilities or restraint. You didn’t want something steady, something safe.
You wanted Michael.
He was a whirlwind of adventure and emotion and you’ve always wanted to fly.
Even if it meant falling.
He told you you were his one and only.
And it was foolish to believe the words of such an audacious boy, but you always let his lips convince you.
So when he said he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you, you let him drown all your doubts and worries with the poison in his mouth.
Have I ever said no?
It was rushed and quick and done on a whim - as everything is with Michael.
You ran with him to a place where nobody would try to stop the two of you, where it was just the two of you and an unknown future ahead of you.
And there in the middle of nowhere, Michael married you with his tattered leather jacket and that signature smirk on his lips.
You didn’t need a crowd to stand up for you, nor did you need wedding gifts or a fancy white dress and a thousand dollar ring on your finger.
You needed Michael and his love, no matter what it did to you - you needed it.
It didn’t matter that you were wearing a worn white sundress with haphazardly plucked daisies in your hands as you walked towards him in silence.
His eyes were on you, and that was all that you needed.
You had your ring tattooed on your finger, just as his was as well - you didn’t need an exchange of diamonds, you needed the poison on his lips to be your personal drug for the rest of your life.
And there in the unholy hours of the night in some rundown chapel in the middle of nowhere without a soul in the pews, you were married to Michael Gordon Clifford.
It was stupid and it was reckless and you were nothing but a foolish little girl who was a little too young and a little too intoxicated by a dysfunctional relationship, but you had no regrets.
You had nothing but Michael, and it didn’t matter if the future was blurry and bumpy at best.
You had Michael whispering in your ear I love you and you had his arms around you to keep you warm and you had his kisses that gave you life and killed you slowly at the same time.
And that was all you ever needed.
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