Run Away with me (M.C.)

He was the kind of person you always wanted to be with.
He was so sure of himself no matter what.
In a situation in which I would most likely break down and cry, he always knew what to do.
At least it seemed that way to me.


10. The Opportunity

Sorry the last chapter deleted itself a lot, so if you haven't already, re-read it, because I had to re-write it. Anyway, I'm back and not sick so yay.


My eyes snap open. For no reason at all, really. Not that I can see. Michael's arms are holding me close to his body, keeping me warm. The house is quiet, aside from the slight hum of the fridge downstairs. Suddenly, I realize that I dropped my bag of Friday's clothes in the hallway at my house, and my dress is dirty.

I literally have nothing to wear. Not even my underwear is clean. I sigh, and slip free of Michael's appendages. For once he is sleeping when I'm awake. Rightfully so, because as far as I can see, the sun isn't up yet.

Quietly, I slide open one of the drawers in the dresser across from the bed.

Jeans. Next.

It takes me three tries, but I finally find the shirts. I lift a black t-shirt out of the drawer. On him it would be slightly tight-fitting. I've never seen him wear it. Then again, I haven't seen him wear any of the band shirts in here before either.

I pull it over my head, and notice how good it smells. Mmmm.

The shirt doesn't quite cover my butt, but it's not like I'm going anywhere. Except the bed of course.

I try to get back under the blankets without waking Michael, which is basically a useless attempt, because he always wakes up.


"What're you doing? The sun's barely up." He mumbles, and wraps himself around me again when I finally get into the warmth of the bed.

"I randomly woke up and realized I didn't have any clothes to wear."

"So you stole my shirt?"

"I had no idea you had so many, Jesus Christ." His hand plays with the fabric of the shirt I'm wearing.

"That's one of my favorite shirts."

"Yeah, well it smells good and I have nothing else, so you're gonna have to deal with the loss." I smirk triumphantly, and he sighs.

"And I can't even tickle-torture you."

"Why not?"

"Because you're the only girl in the fucking world that isn't ticklish." Michael's thumb rubs my hip, and I close my eyes.

"Sucks to be you, doesn't it?" Ever since my 13th birthday, I haven't been ticklish. For no good reason, really. I just stopped.

"So are you gonna call your sister or what?" He asks after a silence.

"I don't think I'm gonna call her, I mean, she never called us when she decided she needed time away from her boyfriend." It makes sense to me, at least.

We don't talk for a while, his hands tracing random parts of my body, and me just laying there, eyes closed and calm.


My eyes open again, and I watch Michael pull on his skinny jeans. He continues to put on a magic 8 ball baseball tee, and messes up his hair with his hand, still unaware I'm enjoying the view. Or so I think.

"Stop staring, unless you want me to do the same to you when you're getting dressed." He says, turning around with his lips spread into a wide smile.

"I don't know, I'm kind of enjoying the stages of your morning routine." I reply, and he starts digging in his drawers. A pair of sweatpants comes flying at me, and lands on my face.

"Wear these. Today we're getting your clothes." Michael closely observes me getting up and putting on his sweats. I have to pull the strings a bit to get them to fit around my waist and the legs are too long, but other than that they fit relatively okay.

I sigh, but not in disappointment.

"Let's go get some breakfast." I say, hearing Karen putting a pan onto the stove.

We walk down the stairs, but stop at the bottom as the doorbell rings.

I slowly lean forward to see though the kitchen to the door. A cop.

"Shit Michael!" I hiss, and he looks too.

"Run out the back." He whispers, and pulls me towards to the back door of the house. The policeman doesn't notice us slipping past the doorway, thankfully, but I hear voices rising.

"No you may not search my home."

"Mam, I have a warrant, and you are suspected of holding a teenage girl hostage."

"What are you talking about?!"

Their words are lost as we run out the back door, and into the back yard. Michael helps me jump over the fence and into the alley.

"Where do we go?" I push the question out of my throat, which feels dry. My eyes tear up, and he pulls me towards him.

"My bike is on the other side of the house. Maybe one of the guys can get it for me, and we can get out of here. " He swallows. "If we don't want to get caught, we better get going."

I don't feel like walking. I feel like curling up into a ball and letting them find me dead in an alley. I don't want my mom to suffer, but I can't go back to her. Not now.


I wake up to Luke and Michael talking excitedly.

"Are you serious?"


"Holy shit."

I intervene, out of pure curiosity.


"We're going on tour with One Direction!" Luke exclaims.

"Oh my god!" I gasp. Not only is this great for their band, it's a perfect opportunity for me to run away. I sit up.

"When do you leave?" I ask, realizing that I probably won't be able to come, but I can hope. Whoever is their manager probably won't be happy to have a person with missing posters of them everywhere. I can try though, right? I can hide away on their bus, maybe. We'll go to Britain and I can live in a flat or something, they'll never know the difference. I think.

Oh god, how am I supposed to get my mom to stop chasing me?!

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!

Suddenly, Michael is holding my wrists.

"Erik, are you okay? What's wrong?" His voice clears my mind for a second, but soon I still can't think about anything other than worry. I can run, but sooner or later, they will find me. I am anything but okay.

"Erik!" Their voices sound like they're speaking through water. My eyes fail to grant me sight, and my eyelids close. I can't open them. One by one, my senses seem to shut down. I can't see. My skin is numb. My stomach feels like there is something contained within it, trying to get out. The only thing I can half rely on is my hearing, and even that goes.

I can barely feel Michael gripping my shoulders and kissing me, hard. My eyes snap open, my eyes wide, and I see him, right in front of me. My lips move back, more or less, and only when he's satisfied that I won't randomly die does he stop.

Luke isn't in the room.

"Where's Luke?" I suddenly become concerned; I'd rather not have onlookers while we kiss.

"I sent him upstairs to get you water." He replies, his voice gentle.

Annnnd, here come the tears. I try to wipe them away, but they won't stop rolling down my cheeks.

"What's wrong?" Michael sits beside me, and wraps his arm around my shoulders. I sigh, and lean against him.

"I can run, but I can't hide. I'm scared that they'll find me and they will have to go back to my insane mum, and that you won't be able to see me ever again and I really don't want that to happen because I'll miss you and I really just want to go on tour with you and run away but I don't want them to find me and I don't even know!" I take in a breath, and Michael stays quiet. Luke walks in with the water, and stands awkwardly in front of the couch.

"Here." He whispers, and practically scurries back upstairs.

"Erika, stop worrying. I'll think of something-we'll think of something, and fix this. Just please, calm down. Or don't, if you can't. If you don't know how to distract yourself, then focus on your breathing." He kisses me again, and makes me take a sip of water. But his kiss makes me want to cry again, because I might never have it again. "If we do get separated, then I'll find you again, I promise." He squeezes my thigh, but fails to reassure me. Right now I feel like a) crying, and b) making out with him right here and now because I might never see him again.

I do the latter. More or less, because Luke could walk in any second. I'm pretty sure this will make me miss him more, but it'll make damn sure he won't forget me.

I turn myself to straddle his lap. I press my lips against his, my arms hanging lazily around his neck. His hands stay firmly planted on my hips, thumbs rubbing my sides. He takes my bottom lip between his teeth, and kisses me like he hasn't ever before.

His fingers tangle in my hair as we take a breath, and I take in his face. His eyes look up at me, and his mouth hangs slightly open, breathing onto my chin.

"Fuck you're beautiful." He smiles, and strokes my jaw with the back of his fingers. I don't say anything, just grin, and lean down, an inch away from his mouth.

"I love you so fucking much."

And with that, the lights go out. I hear Luke lock the door, and Michael chuckles.

"We haven't been together more than a week, and already we're doing this."

"Oh, we've been in love for much longer."

Our lips lock again.

My shirt comes off.


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