In Bad Shape
I follow Michael, quickly running down the hall to the ER desk.
"What? You mean I can't see my own father!?!" He screams at the nurse.
"I'm sorry but he's in very bad shape, and he doesn't need anyone or anything to stress him out."
We walk down the hall to the waiting room. As we turn the corner, I see three guys who look about the same age as Michael stand.
"We heard about the bad news, and came as soon as possible." Said the one with tan skin and dark hair.
"Thanks but, you guys know my dad would be pissed if he saw you here."
"We're not here for him, we're here for you." Said the one with curly brown hair.
"Oh, this is (y/n), (y/n) this is Calum, Ashton, and Luke. They're my band mates." Michael says.
"Hi" I say awkwardly.
They all say either Hi or Hey in response.
"Dammit guys, is it hi or hey?" Says Calum.
"Hey! Don't swear!" Ashton says swatting at the back of Calum's head, which makes Michael smile a bit.
We all sit down and wait for a while. It wasn't until about three hours later the doctor enters the room.
"Are you Mr. Clifford?" He asks Luke.
"Uh, no... um" he awkwardly points to Michael.
"Yes, that's me." Michael says standing up to shake the doctors hand.
"Is everything alright?" He asks.
The doctor pauses before speaking.
"I'm afraid I have some bed news. Your father has suffered with major damage to his spine. Which has resulted in us having to go into surgery right away. All we need is your say so."
"Well.... What are the chances of him being paralyzed if we go through with it?"
"It's a 50/50 chance."
"Oh, that's easy then,no I doubt this procedure is necessary." Michael replies sitting back down.
"No, um..... I'm afraid if we don't go through with this...... Then your father won't make it." He says putting a hand on Michael's shoulder.
Michael stands and starts to pace, running his hands through his hair.
"Ok, do it."
The doctor leaves. Michael starts to pace quicker and quicker. I could tell he's getting more upset.
"DAMMIT!" He says kicking a chair.
"Michael, let's go." I say pulling him outside. We sit down at the nearest bench.
"It's my fault (y/n), it's all my fault." He says with tears streaming down his face.
"Hey, Michael, look at me. It's not your fault at all. Were you the one handing him those drinks? Were you the one who gave him those car keys? Were you the one who crashed into his car?............... Were.......Were you the one who asked you to stay?" I say, now with tears running down my cheeks as well.
Michael reaches up to wipe one of them away. He leaves his hand there, softly touching my cheek as he leans forward to softly press his lips to mine.
"I love you (y/n)"
"I love you Michael"