Cold as ice itself, and pale as the snow itself, Michael Clifford is not the type of 6ft boy you should be messing with, unless it's a death with you are asking for.

But when someone crosses his path, his entire life turns all the way around, and maybe he might just show his soft spots.


25. Separating

"Michael, what are you doing here?" I ask.

"Wait, that's Michael?" My mom asks. 

"Yes," I reply.

"Isn't that the boy that hit you?" My dad asks. 


They probably don't want me hanging around him.

I can't lie.

I'm absolute shit at lying. 

Michael stands sheepishly in the corner, hands in his pockets, his head looking down.

"Yes," I say.

Michael's eye immediately look up at mine.

His eyes have mixed emotions.

Sad, angry, and confused. 

I feel terrible.

Absolutely terrible. 




I'm lying in my bed crying.

I'll never see Michael again.

And it's all my fault. 

My phone is blowing up from Michael texting me.

I ignore it.

I try to ignore the pain, but it's not working.

Nothing's working.

The boys are going to leave soon and Michael and I will never have any closure. 

I love him and he loves me.

But nothing can be simple in my life.

Nothing can. 

Especially with Michael.

Tears stream down my face as I think about him.

His stupid, goofy smile.

His laugh, his eyes, and his touch.

God, I really miss him.

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