Inspired by an ask from theywerealreadytaken
Imagine Michael being one of your classmates at school. You
guys hang around similar people, but never really together. At first he was
just another guy with an admittedly cute face and nothing more to him, but you
slowly begin to notice the little things. Like the way his voice climbs in decibels
and how flails his arms in these crazy
patterns when he gets excited or the fact that he gets defensive over his
friends a hundred times faster than he does himself. The pieces slowly fall
together and you eventually come to terms with the fact that you have a crush
on goddamn Michael Gordon Clifford. It breaks your heart to admit it because
you’ve only seen him with drop dead gorgeous girls with the figures of models
and that’s not even close to what you, in your opinion, look like. So you try
to stomp out the crush the best you can, but every time a joke slips through
those stupid, adorable, kissable, pink lips of his, you’re back like a fish on
a freaking hook.
The year progresses and so do your feelings. It gets to be
around the time for prom and all these scenarios start going through your mind.
Him asking you to the dance. Him saying you look beautiful. Your first dance
together. Him confessing his undying love for you under the cheap disco ball
the school has for dances. Your friends push you to ask him out or at least see
if he’s going and, to your surprise, they actually convince you to do it
(you’re fairly positive they slipped something into your drink, and when you
mentioned your theory there was no denial going around the small table).
“Um, hi, Michael,” you say awkwardly. He’s with
his two of his three best friends, Luke and Calum, and their presence makes you
a bit nervous and a bit timid.
“Hey, (y/n),” he beams. ‘Oh my gosh,’ you think,
'his eyes are freaking amazing when he smiles. How does he even do that?’
Your eyes go from his to his friends and your tongue is
feeling a bit tied. You planned this thing out earlier, you really did, but for
some reason you didn’t expect the Three Musketeers to be together straight
after school at his locker before you could ask him.
“You okay?” Luke asks, immediately getting an
elbow from Calum.
Another few seconds pass before you blurt, “screw it!
Are you going to the dance with anyone, Michael?”
Michael’s eye widen for a second and your heart beat swoops
to a dangerous low. For a second you wonder if his next words were going to
literally kill you.
“Actually,” he grins, “I was just about to
talk to you about that.” He reaches in his locker and tugs out a
heart-shaped box of chocolates and a flower. “Do you want to go to the
dance with me? Sorry about the flower, Luke ruined it.”
“I did no–”
“Shut up Luke,” Michael cuts in with a grin.
“I’d love to go,” you smile, taking the gifts more
“Great, I’ll pick you up at 6 then?”
“It’s a date–wait er, if you want it to be. Like we
can totally go as friends and all–”
“He just gave you a heart box of chocolates,”
Calum rolls his eyes, “I’m pretty sure he wants it to be a date.”
Michael glares at his friend but leaves it be. “It’s a
You turn around and nearly skip away to your car. You can’t
believe this went much better than planned!
It’s the day of the dance and you’re absolutely nervous
about literally everything. You got dressed at your friend’s house and they
were doing an excellent job of dolling you up, but then all hell broke loose
when your friend’s bratty brother squirted this green die in your hair, leaving
an uneven and unattractive glob in your locks. Then Michael called a while ago
and told you that his car was having troubles so he’d be late and he’d met you
there. And so you wait outside for him. Other students pass you by as they go
in and you can feel their judging eyes on you. Now it’s thirty minutes later
than he said he’d be and you’re getting cold waiting for Michael. A thought
occurs to you that he may have just stood you up.
“I guess your date stood you up, Shamoo,” you hear
an all too familiar voice sneer. You slowly turn to see (insert some bitch you
don’t like’s name here) and her group of friends all dressed up and all decked
out with rude comments to throw at you. “I really don’t blame him. I know
I’d cop out if I was supposed to be slow dancing with someone that big in a
dress like that.”
Your eyes immediately go to your dress. It was a cute little
number that went well with your complexion and reached to about an inch above
your knee. You liked it and your mom even let you get it despite the fact that
you were stretching the budget at bit thin for it.
“You look like the ham my grandma serves for Christmas
dinner,” your local Regina Gorge goes on. “I don’t get how the hell
you even got someone to ask you out.”
“I don’t get why you’re such a prissy bitch without a
perception for beauty.”
You look over your shoulder and see Michael standing behind
you. You notice that he looks a little disheveled, but you don’t focus on that
because the fact that he snakes his arm around your waist blocks out almost
everything else out.
“I’d appreciate if you never talk to my date like that
again ,” his voice gets a bit lower and holds a threatening air to it,
“and gladly get the hell out of our way so we can go in.”
The Wicked Witch of the West moves out of the way almost
instantly. You couldn’t keep the smile off of your face as he walks with you,
holding you tightly, and escorts you into the dance.
“Don’t listen to a thing that they say,” he says,
pulling you close for a slow dance. “You’re literally the most perfect
person ever to be born.”
“No,” you shake your head with a dreamy, goofy
grin stretched across your face, “that’s you.”
I hope you guys liked it. Ignore the typos and please don’t steal this. I worked hard on this.