The Truth About Love (A Mikey Murphy One-Shot)

The Truth About Love

When you are born in today's day and age, you are immediately given a wristband. This wristband decides your future, or more so, who is in your future. The band has a timer printed on it, that counts down from the time you are born, until the time when you are destined to meet your soul mate. It is this band that is adhered to the skin of our wrists that can either make your life, or ruin it. For me, it completely wrecked me, and the proceeded to build me back up.

I was in my freshman year of high school when I desperately wanted my clock to tick down to zero. It was him that I thought I wanted, him who I wished I would have the opportunity to spend my whole life with. He was charismatic, charming, and he had the most gorgeous eyes. Eyes that shone blue with curiosity and love, for when I first met him, I saw his band fall to the ground with a soft 'clink!'. He never had the chance to notice that mine never dropped, for he kissed me with his soft lips and the small tug of his braces against my tongue as I kissed the boy I had watched and admired from afar.

I wore long sleeves from that day on. Not only was I trying to fool myself, because I wanted so desperately to be apart of his life, but because I couldn't bear to break his heart. I was his soul mate, but he was not mine. There must be a glitch in this system, because that isn't fucking fair. Society has this marvelous, talented, amazing boy fall for a girl who wants to love him, but knows she never will, no matter how much she tries.

It was later that year, when I accompanied the boy I wanted to love and his family to the beach. I was able to get away with sweatshirts a lot, but when we went onto the sand, I was able to keep up an act of a hurt wrist, and was able to keep an ACE bandage on the wrist where my wristband, that had yet to fall off, was still stubbornly adhered to my skin.

We got in an argument, later during our trip, and I had to escape. I couldn't be mad at him, I just couldn't. I can't bear his puppy-dog eyes and his pleading gaze. But I had to get away and stand my ground. We may have fought over something stupid, like usual, but I had to stand my ground. I couldn't just let him let me win though. I needed more of a challenge.

I escaped to the beach, with my guitar in hand. The soothing sounds that I could produce from the strings put me at ease, and I was able to calm myself down enough to go back inside. I couldn't help but look at my wristband, however, before I subjected myself back into the beach house his family had rented. I had tried not to look at the band since the day his fell off, but the curiosity killed me. I had to know how much time I had until I had to break the boy I wanted to love's heart. No matter how much I didn't want to.

The clock had thirty seconds on it. I was thirty seconds away from meeting someone whom I had to spend my life with, who wasn't the boy I had spent the last six months trying to love. I felt the band click, and drop from my skin when my eyes met his. I learned later that his name was Michael, who went by the nickname Mikey, which was a stark contrast from Gavin, the name of the boy whom I tried to love. Mikey was a boy with dark blonde hair and a single dimple. He had a beautiful smile and brown eyes. Again, his looks were different from the blonde, blue eyed, double dimpled Gavin, but I don't think I cared.

At the moment when our eyes met, me with my blonde hair tied up in the messiest bun, my glasses precariously perched on my face, my blue eyes wild, and him, with his perfect hair and eyes, which were slightly obscured by glasses of his own. I saw his band fall into the sand, never to be found again, and I found myself not caring for the second time in the last ten seconds. I didn't care about Gavin, or how I would gather the courage to tell him. I didn't care that I looked like complete shit, and he stood there looking like a godsend. I just cared about the fact that at 15 years old, the summer before my sophomore year in high school, I met my soul mate. It didn't matter that he was 17, a senior, and lived only an hour from the beach, when I lived about 3 hours away.

My feet moved before I even registered that they were, and within seconds I stood in front of him. He stood what had to be seven inches taller than me, reaching about six feet tall. I was short all on my own, but he was tall. It was his voice, though, that gave me butterflies in my stomach and made chills go down my spine.

"Hi," he whispered, as he brushed a piece of my hair that escaped from my bun away from my face. My face felt on fire from where his fingers had just touched my skin.

"Hello," I whispered back, the widest smile I had ever smiled, then proceeded to grace my face.