5SOS one shots (boys x Reader)


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2. And the Reason Is YOU- Mikey

based off of the reason by hoobastank

[ more ]

I’m not a perfect person

There’s so many things I wish I didn’t do

But I continue learning

I never meant to do those things to you

-

 

Michael heaves a sigh under his breath, shoulders sagging as the sigh escapes his lips and then he’s tilting his head back and downing almost half of the bottle of beer that he’s got on hand. The bottle is pulled away from his pink lips and he’s using the back of his other hand to wipe at the excess droplets dribbling out of the corners of his mouth. He sets the bottle down gently on the bar top then he’s waving the bartender over again, lifting the bottle in silent request for another.    

 

He’d go for (a full bottle, maybe, of) Jack, or maybe just straight vodka. But although he wants to get drunk, he doesn’t want to get too drunk. He needs to put himself through this torture – think about what he’s done to her. Think about how much he’s a fucking idiot. And then come up with a plan to get her back because she’s all he’s ever wanted and needed that he never knew he wanted or needed – up until he’d actually met her and fallen in love with her.    

 

But, see, the thing about Michael fucking Clifford was that he was so used to being pushed around and walked over that he learned how to push his feelings completely aside – till it got to the point that he couldn’t even express to Y/N how much he fucking loved her, because there was that prick of a voice in the back of his mind telling him that she didn’t love him back, that she never did and never would, that she was just waiting for him to go on tour again so that she could break his heart.    

 

And when if she ever did that, Michael was sure that it wouldn't just be his heart that was broken. It would be his entire soul cracking and splitting, then his whole world would come crashing down because Y/N means that much to him and he can’t stand to lose her.   

 

Well, then, you shouldn’t have fucking yelled at her and called her those names, now, did you?

 

And there’s that prick of a voice. It’s like a conscience, but totally not because it’s a complete asshole and sometimes it’s even sassier than Josh Franceschi. Sassy in a mean way, not like in Josh’s way in which he’s still funny and nice and throwing shade at you that you don’t even realise it till, like, two days later.  

“You alright, kid?” A voice breaks Michael out of his thoughts and he snaps his gaze up, peering at the bartender who’s wiping down the counter but glancing at him, too.    

 

Michael shrugs a shoulder uncaringly, taking a swig of the new beer he’s got his fingers wrapped around. “I’ve been better.”   

 

The man lets out a half-hearted laugh, “Haven’t we all?” He asks rhetorically with a small smile on his lips. Then he’s nodding at the green-haired boy and walking towards another patron who is calling him over.    

 

Michael only sighs again, because it seems like that’s all he can do because he’s so upset with himself for hurting the one person he really, really, really fucking cares about. With forearms propped up on the counter top, shoulders sagging (more than usual), one hand tugging at his hair, biting on his bottom lip – Michael reckons he looks pretty pathetic. But he’s heartbroken, and it’s all his fault that he’s heartbroken. And he’s broken Y/N’s heart, too, so that just makes his heart crack even more than it already has.   

 

He wishes, and wishes, that he could turn back time. Take back the things he’s said. Undo the things he’s done.    

 

He didn’t cheat on her. He’d never cheat on her. Even though he’s still as horny and sexual as he (seemingly) always has been, Michael realised that he didn’t need anyone other than Y/N to pleasure him. It’s like, the thought of him being with anyone else actually put him off.    

 

But he had said some pretty shit things. Accused her of cheating on him. Called her a slut. Called her a cheap whore. Called her pathetic. Said she's “not even fucking worth his time." Threw shit across the room because he was so angry and he didn’t even properly know why. Screamed at her till she cried. Screamed at her till he cried.   

 

And Michael, honest to God, has no fucking idea why that happened.    

 

It’s his insecurity taking over. It’s him realising that he’s in love with this girl and it’s not supposed to happen because he’s already convinced himself that he’s probably going to end up dying alone with a couple of cute kittens by his side, playing video games and living off of pizza – even when he’s at the age of eighty, or something. Maybe he’ll even end up an accidental father. Who the hell knows what could happen, right? He’s hooked up with groupies more than a few times before and if the band thing actually manages to stick around for, say, ten more years, he just might accidentally impregnate someone. (He taps the wooden counter top because although being a father sounds rad, he really doesn’t want it to be because of a hook up.)

 

-

I’m sorry that I hurt you

It’s something that I must live with everyday

And all the pain I put you through

I wish that I could take it all away

And be the one who catches all your tears

-

 

Michael heaves another sigh. Christ, it’s like all he can do is sigh, sigh and sigh some more.    

 

He’s still learning how to deal with this whole ‘feelings’ bullshit. (Well. Not exactly bullshit. But yeah.) All he really wants to do is go to her. Apologise for being a twat. Try to take away the pain he’s brought her because he knows how much pain he’s brought her. They haven’t been together all that long but the amount of little arguments they got into whilst he was out on tour was a bit worrying. The things that got leaked and spread like wildfire on the internet were to blame.    

 

And none of those arguments are ones that she starts. All Y/N ever does in regards to some photo that might look like he’s doing something with someone else, when he’s really not doing anything; is ask. She asks him, nicely and politely and in a nervous tone – asks if there was anything she had to worry about, in a joking tone. And Michael would be the one to overreact. Say shit like she doesn't trust him, that the relationship would never last if all Y/N’s ever going to do is accuse him of stuff – when she really never did accuse him of anything.    

 

It’s his stupid insecurity again. Then he’ll end up apologising and sob about how much he just wants her with him. Wants to cuddle her. Kiss her. Hold her. Fall asleep next to her. And it’s just like right now, really. Michael just wants to go back to Y/N’s house and wrap his arms around her, cradle her head to his chest, whisper how much he loves her into her ear, run his fingers through her hair. But he can’t because he knows he’s messed up and she's mad at him but he can’t give her up. Not now, especially. Not when he’s only just realised how much he really fucking loves her.    

 

Michael has to do it. Or he’ll never do it, because he’ll manage to convince himself that she can do so much better than him – and he already knows that but he’s selfish and he wants Y/N all to himself – and he’ll just leave her alone and spend the rest of who knew how long, regretting it.    

 

He slides off the stool, pulling out a couple of bills from his pockets and then taking a final swig from the glass bottle. It was a good thing that he decided beer was enough because he wants to be sober for this. He’s not completely sober, but he’s not pissed drunk, either. He’s just buzzed. This works. This works well.   

 

—   

 

"Y/N!” He shouts, then he’s stopping himself to look around – see if anyone’s going to call the cops on him for public disturbance or something. Then he realises that he doesn’t give a fuck about anyone else, so he turns back to the window. Cliché, but come on: it’s pretty cute, innit? He hurls another balled up bandana at her window – Ashton’s gonna yell at him once he finds out that Michael’s taken them – and he waits before calling out again, “Y/N!”   

 

The window finally opens and she pokes her head out of it, rubbing at her eyes, and Michael thinks that she’s never looked more beautiful. The moonlight’s illuminating her face perfectly and though he can see that she’s been crying – and it breaks his heart and tears at his soul – she is still so beautiful.    

 

“What are you doing, Michael?” She asks softly, tiredly. But her voice is loud enough for him to hear and it hurts to hear her sound so… hurt.    

 

He gulps, looking at her, fiddling with the American flag printed bandana in his hands; fingers fumbling with the fabric. He’d taken, like, three bandanas – four, if he included his own. He’d throw socks, instead, (because throwing rocks would damage the window and he ain’t paying for it, especially since that meant he’d have to explain why he was throwing rocks), but he’s in a band where underwear and socks are passed around like t-shirts. And the underwear thing’s fine (not really because they all hate sharing underwear but they’re all friends with Luke Hemmings so) because they’ve usually got plenty. They’re running low on socks, though. So he couldn’t just steal socks to throw them at her window, even if he really wanted to.   

 

“I’m, uh,” he lifts up the bandana he’s got in his hand, pulling his lips into a half-grin, “– throwing balled up bandanas at your window because I don’t want to throw rocks, and, I mean, pissing Ashton off is always fun,” Michael jokes and he’s graced with a small smile before it's sliding off of her face and she’s just looking at him again.    

 

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I’m really fucking sorry, for saying what I said. And – ” he pauses, biting his lip. “– I had this, like, elaborate apology and stuff planned out and I was going to use it but I’ve forgotten it because, well, you’re so fucking beautiful and all I can think about is how much of an idiot I am.”   

 

He kicks at the ground, eyes darting down to his feet before he’s look back at her, “Also. Doing this while you’re on a different level is way harder than I thought it would be.”   

 

Y/N sighs, shaking her head and turning her head so that she’s looking inside her bedroom. And she makes a move to shut the window but Michael is quick to stop her with a: “Please! Don’t,” he calls up, voice cracking. “Five minutes. Hell, I’d be happy with two minutes. Just… Let me say what I have to. Please.”   

 

She opens her mouth to say something, but then she sighs again and nods subtly, “Come to the front door,” she says quietly and Michael is quick to nod before he’s almost tripping over his own feet to get to the front door and ready this whole speech that he’s got planned out.    

 

Only… The speech is completely wiped from his mind the moment she opens the door and is right there, right in front of him, and he’s flooded with the want of having her in his arms and kissing her perfect, perfect lips till they’re bruised and dark, and trailing sloppy kisses on her skin and biting down on the skin and leaving marks so that she’s got his mark on her and he can proudly say that she's his, and he's hers, and that’s all that’ll ever matter.    

 

“Well?” Y/N blinks, hugging her arms around her middle as her teeth immediately start to gnaw on his bottom lip. “What other things have you got to say to me? What other names and accusations?” She prompts sarcastically, pulling the smallest and most humourless smile on her lips that Michael swears there’s someone squeezing at his heart.   

 

“I…” he starts, then he just cuts himself off with a shake of his head. “I messed up. I admit to that. I messed up a lot, because I’m stupid, and insecure, and I know that I’m not good enough for you – ”   

 

Y/N opens her mouth to say something but Michael shakes his head.   

 

“It’s true,” he insists, eyes blazing. “You’re smart, funny, kind, caring, beautiful and just way out of my league, and I know that there’s some guy out there who’ll treat you better than I can, be there for you when I can’t because I’m on tour, and all those things. But I am selfish, and I do not want to let you go. You see… You changed me, Y/N. Not in a bad way. I was…” he lets out a single laugh, “I was a fucking slut, really, before I met you. Hooked up with any willing person. Girl. Not guy, though. I’m not that horny,” he slips in a little joke and Y/N graces him with a small smile, ducking down and shaking her head.    

 

Michael takes in a breath, “But now, it’s like, you’ve taken over my everything. You are the smell before rain, you are the blood in my veins. You are the last thing on my mind when I go to bed at night, the first thing to come across my mind when I wake up. I spend every minute away from you, wondering if you’re okay, what are you doing, have you eaten, have you finally stopped obsessing over YouTubers way more good-looking than I am,” he adds the last bit just to make her smile. She does. And he smiles, too.    

 

Then he takes in another breath, “What I’m trying to say is… I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being shit at expressing my emotions, I’m sorry for not always being there, I’m just… sorry that I can’t be what you need or want. But goddammit, Y/N, I’ll try my damn best to be that person. I want to be with you. I want to be able to hear about your day, then tell you about mine. I want to be there for you when you need me – in person or not. I want to let myself fall so much more in love with you with each passing day. The last one's basically already reality, because even after I said all those horrible things to you… I know that I am completely and irre-co-fab-ley in love with you.”   

 

Y/N’s silent then, but she’s biting down on her bottom lip again and Michael can see the smile threatening to make it’s presence known. “Do you, uh, –” she pauses to lick her lips, “– do you mean irrevocably?”

 

“Isn’t that what I said?” Michael blinks.   

 

“Nope,” she shakes her head, “Was close, though. Props for trying.”   

 

Michael scoffs playfully, “I dropped out of school for this band,” he jokes.

“S'not like you were some kind of kid genius, anyway,” Y/N smirks the slightest bit and Michael gasps, bringing a hand to his heart in mock offence.   

 

Then he smiles, dropping his hand to bring it to the back of his neck, rubbing it nervously. “I really am sorry, Y/N. I never meant to hurt you, and I will spend the rest of forever trying to make it up to you because you don’t deserve to be called those things, to be treated that way, and I – ” he sighs again. “I love you. I know I’m a shit boyfriend and I’m a generally shit person at feelings and things, but I do love you, Y/N. So fucking much.”   

 

Y/N just looks at him, still nibbling on her bottom lip. Then she releases her lip from the pressure of her teeth and smiles, one corner of her lips turning up higher than the other, “I love you, too,” she says softly, shyly – almost.    

 

And Michael’s breaking out into a massive grin as he feels air rushing into his lungs all at once and it’s like he can breathe again because the weight that was on his chest is finally lifted because she loves him back. And he rushes forwards, arms open and going straight to wrap around her waist and lift her up and spin her around – making a small squeal leave her lips – and when he’s set her down, Michael kisses Y/N so desperately, clinging onto her like she’d back out if he held on any less tighter.    

 

“I won’t fuck up again. I promise. I love you, I love you, I love you,” Michael mumbles once he’s pulled away just enough for their lips to still be touching but he’s still able to talk coherently.    

 

“I love you back,” Y/N mumbles, also against his lips.   

 

Michael doesn’t think it’s possible but his grin widens even further before he's desperately slotting his lips between hers. Kissing her like he hasn’t done so in months, when it's literally been – what? A day? God, he’s clingy.    

 

But you know what? Michael really doesn’t give a shit because he’s in love and the best part? The absolute best part about being in love is that she fucking loves him back.  

 

I’ve found a reason for me

To change who I used to be

A reason to start over new

And the reason is you

 

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