The good deed (michael clifford)

5sos, Michael Clifford,
It's not the best feeling in the world. Realising your life is so worthless that you find yourself on top of a bridge, waiting for that moment when your feet lift from the ground and you find yourself falling.
I wouldn't know, he saved me before I could have a chance to feel my body hit the waters face. Before I could fall.
But why did he save me? Why is he helping a broken person like me?
Especially when he's famous?
It doesn't make sense. Until you read.

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1. chap 1

The good deed

His wild black hair and breath taking green eyes stop me.

'Mam, don't do this to yourself. I promise you I will help you through this, but only if you give me a chance and step down away from the edge.' He speaks with fear taking over is beautiful deep voice.

I feel the cold breeze against the tears steaming down the side of my face.

'You don't understand. No one does.' I speak holding in my fear as I look below at the deep blue ocean. I swallow taking a cold breath as a hand meets my stiffened shoulder.

'Please, let me help.' His green eyes meet my brown. I stop myself from taking a step forward and off the bridge.

'My names Michael, what's yours?' He attempts to make small talk.

'Laura.' I sigh, feeling my body begin to shake as I lean forward.

I stair ahead at the golden city lights, as they light the night sky. I look up unable to see the stars above. A plane flies through the cloudless night sky. I look back at Michael carefully observing my every move.

'It's creepy being watched like that.'

'I don't want you to do anything your going to regret.' He bows his head towArds the ground, looking innocent.

'Why do you care? You don't know me.' I wipe a tear away.

'That doesn't mean I don't care.' He takes a step forward.

'Laura, I promise you, I'm not going to leave until I help.'

'How? How Michael?'

'I'll show you, take my hand and step down.'

I take a cold breath as he takes my hand. Instantly a smile appears on his face. His beautiful green eyes scan my brown. He looks away with a sigh.

'Thank you.' I whimper with fear. Michael wipes my tears away with delicacy.

'No thank you.' He whispers with a smile.

'Why bother thanking me?' I whimper.

'Thank you for go wing me a chance, a chance to save your life, a chance to help.' He places both hands on my shoulders and looks me in the eyes. I look down with no expression to my face.

'Let's grab a coffee and warm up.' He suggests with warmth to his face.

My breath shallows at his innocence. We being walking down the nights road. Side by side our steps in time. The summers breeze blowing my light brown hair across my face.

We quietly make our way to a small café not so far form the bridge. Michael calmly opens the door letting me go first.

'Why are you so nice to me?' I ask looking up into his green eyes.

'I couldn't watch you do this to yourself.' He takes a seat at a two seater table and I take the other seat.

We take a few minutes in silence before the waiter asks what we'd like to order.

'I'll take a coke, and Laura will have?'

'An expresso thanks.' I look from the waiter to Michael. A smile to his face.

'What made you want to do this to yourself?' He dares to question.

'I would say, but I don't want to bore you with my life story.' I sigh looking out the window and into the city.

'I'm sure I can handle it.' He smirks. I sigh, where to start?

'Story's usually start at the beginning.' He smirks smugly.

'Well.' I sigh. 'Mine doesn't.' He's face expression changes showing interest.

'I guess.. I guess my story starts in high school.' I take a cold Shaky breath. Michael already looking sympathetic at my watery eyes stops me.

'Not here.' He shakes his head. 'First finish your drink, we can continue at my apartment after.' His smooth hands meet mine. I look up into his green eyes confused.

He smiles towards me, removing his hands from mine.

Our drinks arrive leaving us with a few comforting minutes of silence.

'Your quite pretty, Laura.' Michaels kind words break the silence.

'You still have a long life ahead of you, I'm guessing you don't have many plans for the future?'

'The bridge gave it away?' I sigh.

'I don't know why your helping me, no one have ever tried.' I take a sip of my expresso.

'Well, let me be the first.' He smiles placing his hand of top of mine.

'Finish up, it's getting late.' He stands to his feet. The red and white coke can in his firm grip.

I stand taking the mug up to the counter. I ask for a take away cup, with a faint smile to my tired face. I quietly thank the lady and head towards Michael, with my coffee in hand. He opens the door and leads the way into the night.

We begin walking, finding it hard to find the words to say to one other. I take the time to notice what clothing Michael wears.

A black leather jacket with silver zips, sitting over his broad shoulders. Black skinny jeans with black converse shoes, hitting the ground with every step. It's too dark to see his shirt. I look up and meet his eyes. They sparkle with the street lights. I look away awkwardly.

I yawn as we continue to walk. 'How far is your apartment? I'm tired.' I speak watching my feet as we continue to walk.

'Tired already? It's only-' he stops, pulling out his phone.

'One.' He shrugs with a smile. I stop with surprise.

'Only?' I look at him with confusion.

'What? Your not use to this time of night?' He smiles, his white smile.

'Not really, I usually make a bed like thing around nine to crash on.' I look up at Michael.

You don't have a bed?'

I shake my head.

'What about a place to stay?'

You mean a house?'

'Where else would you stay?' He shrugs.

'Under the bridge In the park.' I bow my head, watching my feet as they move in time with Michaels.

He stops. 'Your homeless?' He looks at me with a glimmer to his eye.

'Are you really thematic surprised?' He nods, bowing his head.

'Not all homeless people are crazy drug addicts.'

'I never said they were.' We continue to walk along side one other. Our hands inches from each other touch. Michael takes a few steps ahead of me and reaches for a silver door knob.

'This is it.' He sighs deeply. 'It's not much but it's home.' We enter the small building. My head begins to race a little.

I have been on the streets so long it's like I have forgotten what it feels like to be in a house again.

Cream white walls and wood lined floors. An open, stone lined fire place sits perfectly below a large, black TV mantled in the wall above. A small white coffee table centres the trim, behind the coffee table sits a black, 5 seater couch.

The warmth of the fire place leaves a smile pressed against my cold face. I look over to Michael meeting his deep green eyes.

' you can come in you know.' He laughs a little.

My cheeks flush red as I move from the door to the lounge room, where Michael sits.

I begin to look around, again, dazzled by my sights.

I spot a stair case in the conned of my eye. Their wooden and spaced apart, creating a beautiful affect.

'There's a shower up stairs, I'll get you some cloths to get changed into after.' He smiles handing me a towel.

I nod my head with a smile. 'Thank you Michael.'

He smiles leading me upstairs. Three rooms and a bathroom sits on this floor. Again the hallway floor is a soft shade of brown wood.

'Once you have a shower, I'll place your cloths in this room, make yourself at home and get some sleep. We can talk on the morning.' He smiles flashing his perfectly white teeth.

'I'll be in the next room if you need me.' He smiles heading down stairs and into the lounge room.

Shower.

Is my first thought. I grab my towel and run for the bathroom. I close the door behind me.

I turn the tap letting the hot water run as I begin to undress.

I slip my long black boots of my feet. Next to my socks. My bare feet hitting the cold tiles. I quickly strip free from the rest is my cloths consisting of; a black beanie, a long sleeve pink shirt, my black jeans, my bra and panties.

I finally enter the showers warmth with a shutter. It's been a while since my last shower.

Like everything, being homeless has its ups and downs.

Anyone can tell you that sleeping In a cardboard box is uncomfortable, but until you actually live in one, it's hard to understand what we go through.

I rice my hair out and brush it through with my fingers.

I turn the taps stopping the water from hitting my pale skin.

My hand makes contact with the deep red cotton of my towel. I wrap myself with in the cotton feeling the warmth.

I exit the bathroom making sure to take my cloths with me.

In the conner of my eye I see the wild black hair of Michaels.

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