Michael Clifford Imagines

Fix Him

Your POV:
"Describe it to me," he whispers, his voice floating through the phone so softly that it can barely be detected. Your eyes are closed and your bed is so comfortable, the down comforter tucked up to your chin as you lie on your side. You're facing Michael's side of the bed, but it's empty. It's always empty now.
Your phone is stuck beneath your head, resting between your ear and the pillow. When he speaks to you so softly, you can almost imagine that he's right in front of you; the only things missing are the feeling of his warm sweet breath fanning across your face and his fingertips ghosting over your skin. "I can't describe it right now. My eyes are closed," you breathe.
Everything is completely silent in your empty apartment; the only sound is his gentle steady breathing through the phone. "Do you want to hang up?" Michael asks, disappointment and sadness seeping into his words.
"No!" you exclaim immediately. "No, please don't hang up. My eyes are just closed because I'm trying to imagine you lying here with me." Tears begin leaking from your eyes as you speak, pain evident in your tone. "I miss you so much Mikey. I need you," you confess quietly, tears staining the soft white pillowcase that cradles your head.
He doesn't answer right away, but soon you hear the soft whimper that indicates the agony brought on by your words. "I'm so sorry, Y/N," Michael croaks through his tears. "I love you so much. I'm so, so sorry."
Michael listens to you cry for well over an hour, all the while whispering stories of tour adventures through the phone mixed with declarations of his true and undying love for you.
Finally, you fall asleep with your phone still connected to his. He lies awake for hours and listens to your steady breathing and the soft, sweet murmurs of his name that shatter his heart into a million pieces.
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"You're not listening. Listen. There's a plan," Luke says again, slower this time as if he's speaking to a small child.
"I'm well aware of what a plan is you moron. What I'm unaware of, is what in the hell you're talking about," you snap at the blonde blue-eyed dork that you're forced to call your best friend.
"Y/N, you've been my best friend since we were in diapers. I know you. I know when you're hurting and I know when you've been given more than you can take. And I know Michael, too. I know him maybe as well as I know you, and I know that you're both miserable and it needs to be fixed. So Ash, Cal, and I have come up with a plan," he explains. "And it's really good if I do say so myself."
"Lucas Robert?" you say into the phone sweetly.
"Yes?" he replies.
"WHAT IS THE GOD DAMN PLAN YOU LANKY NOODLE?" you shout, annunciating each word individually.
"Oh yeah," he says sheepishly, finally realizing that he hasn't in fact explained anything. "So we have found ourselves in need of a new stylist," he says confidently, as if he's making complete sense, and the need for a new stylist is relevant information to you.
"Okay," you reply slowly, expecting him to continue his sentence.
"You," he begins dramatically, "are going to be our new stylist," Luke clarifies, excitement bubbling up in the pit of your stomach.
"Seriously? I mean this is like a legitimate offer? Because if you guys are messing around with me or if you haven't gotten your little plan cleared by management, I'm going to kill you," you tell him seriously.
"It's already approved, I swear!" Luke chuckles.
"Well what does Mikey think?" you ask, more nervous about this answer than anything else. What if he doesn't actually want you on tour? What if he enjoys the freedom that the distance allows?
"Umm well," Luke stutters, your nerves bubbling over at his hesitance. "It's actually kind of a surprise."
"So he doesn't know? Lucas what if he doesn't want me there?" you exclaim, tears welling in your eyes at the thought.
Luke releases a deep sigh at your words. "Y/N, do you honestly think that we would have suggested it if we didn't have to watch him be miserable every day without you? It's getting worse all the time."
"Are you sure?" you ask meekly.
"I'm sure little buddy. He needs you just as much as you need him. This is the best decision for everyone, okay?"
"Yeah, yeah okay," you tell him, hopeful that Michael will be as happy with this decision as you are.
The next two weeks simultaneously flew by and crawled slower than any other two weeks in history. When the day finally arrives, you have your entire life packed into two suitcases and your heart is in your throat as you walk off the plane and into Luke's waiting arms.
"Do you have any concept of how difficult it was to keep this from him," you mumble into Luke's chest.
"Yeah, sweet heart. Try having to watch him cry and pout every day without telling him," Luke replies with a chuckle.
"Can we go? I need him," you whine, Luke moving you toward the exit with your bags in tow.
"Ashton's in the car with Cal. Let's get back to the hotel; he was still sleeping when we left," he says as he slings his arm around your shoulder.
You slide into the back seat of the black SUV with Luke, Ashton driving and Calum in the front seat. The boys all tell you stories during the drive to the hotel, mainly about how moody and sad Michael has been.
"So here's his room key. We're off all day, so don't worry about anything, okay? Just go fix him, okay? He's messed up," Luke whispers as he hugs you and kisses the top of your head.
You twist the room key in your hand as you take the elevator to the fifth floor of the hotel, stomach in knots and chest tight with anticipation. You exit the elevator and drag your bags behind you, stopping outside of his door and taking a few deep breaths to calm your racing heart. Finally, you slide the key into the door and open it quietly. The room is completely dark, and you pull your bags in and set them against the wall before closing the door and turning the deadbolt lock. You hear shuffling from the bed and a smile spreads across your face as his sleepy groan cuts through the darkness.
"Luke! Get out I just want to sleep," he says in his gravelly morning voice.
You don't answer right away, you just shuffle closer to the bed as your eyes adjust to the darkness.
"I'm not in the mood today. I can't do it; I need her," he sobs, and your heart constricts. The need to comfort him overwhelms you, and you suck in a sharp breath as tears fill your eyes. Michael jumps out of bed and flicks the lamp on, light flooding the room and momentarily blinding you as your eyes readjust.
Michael stands and stares at your form, completely transfixed and unblinking. Suddenly, he closes his eyes and reopens them several times, completely unmoving. As he does this, you take the opportunity to take in his appearance. He's just as beautiful as ever, with his milky white skin and bright red hair, but he looks exhausted and worn out. After several long moments of silence, he finally speaks, "I'm dreaming right? I know I'm dreaming, but please, please don't let me wake up before I get to hold you."
His words break you out of your haze and you run across the room, jumping into his arms and burying your face in his neck and finally letting out your sobs. Michael rocks back and forth, his arms wrapped around your body so tightly that it's difficult to breathe. His lips are at your ear, repeatedly whispering how much he loves you.
When he pulls back to look at your face, you see that his tears match your own. "What in the hell are you doing here?" he asks as he sets you down before him and cups your cheeks in his hands, wiping at your tears with his thumbs.

"Well I want to talk to you about that, actually. I was offered a job with the band, but I haven't accepted it yet because I wanted to make sure it was okay with you first. The guys talked to management and they want me to tour with the band as your stylist," you explain wearily, honestly nervous of what his reaction might be.
"You get to stay with me?" he exclaims, his eyes bright with excitement. "Tell me I am dreaming!" He continued.
"It's not a dream. I will be with you as long as you want me." You say.
"I will want you forever!" He whispered as he kisses you.