c

fuck, staring at michael clifford was getting intensely boring. the emotional bruise stung in your chest because you simply can’t have him, but he’s all you’ve ever wanted in someone. you tear your gaze from him and back to the professor to do what you actually came to university for instead of pining over a boy.

he isn’t just a boy though, he’s perfect for you in your eyes. punk rock written all over him, electric guitars hanging low against his hips on a saturday night at 10pm in pubs that buzz off his and his bands’ energy, new hair colour almost every month. he’s hard to keep up with, that’s what you like about him.

you’re a girl with strict parents, a close friend group and nobody else, rare occasion that you made it to a party because you’re terrified that a family member will find out that you sipped the tiniest bit of alcohol like it was going to subtract knowledge from your brain. they wanted the best for you, of course, but it’s starting to interfere with your adult life as you’re getting older.

you find yourself living life through your friends’ instagram stories, watching them have fun while you sit at your desk just trying to seem productive, but all you can do is scroll on your phone just wishing that you had the guts to enter a house party without your parents in the back of your mind convincing you that it’s the worst thing you could do. it wasn’t, you’re learning that, but the fear still lingers.

you’re coming home for the weekend in two days, you’re not exactly excited but at least you don’t have to spend longer than three days with them. it sounds horrible, dreading seeing your parents for the first time in awhile but it’s always the same conversations and giving you the same advice. it’s starting to get boring, you just want life to start.

you daydream your way through the lesson, snapping back into reality when your teacher speaks a little louder than usual, which immediately gives you the impression that it was time to pack your things. you grab your book and pen, shoving them deep into your bag. your eyes drift to that boy again, watching him fumble as he dropped a pack of cigarettes on the floor. you stifle a laugh.

luke hemmings, his best friend, bursts out laughing at michael’s position on the floor.

you bite your cheeks to suppress a smile, looking away from them when your friend, kat, sneaks into your eyeline, causing you to flinch. she raises her eyebrow at you, a grin coating her face.

“what’s got you smiling like that?” she asked you, tilting her head.

you look back at luke and michael, watching them as they playfully hit each other like they were still children. “luke and michael, they seem funny.” you answer her, turning your head to look at kat again.

“oh, yeah. they’re hilarious at parties. you should come one day, you’ll be fine.” she stated. “why don’t you come tonight? i got invited yesterday i’m sure nobody will mind if i brought a plus one. besides, it gets too filled by the end of the night for anyone to notice anyways.” kat mentioned, looking at you with the most hopeful eyes. you hate to disappoint her.

“i need to study, i’m sorry kat.” you mutter with shame, shaking your head.

she sent you a tight lipped smile. “you’re good. promise you’ll come with me one day?” she plead.

you let out a chuckle, “sure, one day.”

one small detail, you never said anything about promising.

everyone’s crowded in your shared dorm with your best friend, rushing around to get ready while you stay sat at your desk, laptop open and a notebook in front of you. your friends have been nagging for you to come with them to these parties for months but you’ve denied the offer every single time, missing out on great memories and opportunities to finally talk to michael clifford, the man you can’t seem to take your eyes off.

you hug everyone goodbye and wish them all a great time, that’s when you’re left alone in the dorm once again. this is how many nights go, it’s a repeated cycle of your friends getting ready at your place while begging you to come along, you always shut down the offer and then let them leave. the silence that fills the dorm is perfect though.

you crank up your music on the record player sat beside your desk, zoning out while staring at a burning candle in front of you.

you manage to get some revision in before your best friend, charlotte, stumbled back into your dorm, an excited look on her face. she grabbed your shoulders, a yell escaping your throat because you didn’t even realise she’d come back, your headphones drowning out any sound from the world outside of them.

“you aren’t gonna believe this.” charlotte slurred, pulling off your headphones for you. you reach out to your phone, pausing the music and turning around in your chair.

your eyebrows furrow. “what?” you wondered and she held your face in her hands.

“you know michael clifford? the one with the crazy red hair?” she quizzed and your face burned up, she took her hands off your face. “okay, you definitely do.” she laughed. “are you texting him or something? he asked me about you tonight.” she informed you.

you shook your head. “char, i’ve never spoken to him in my life. what did he say?” you tilt your head, heart pounding against your ribs, desperate for answers about him.

“he asked me why you never turn up to parties but all of your friends are insane party animals, he said that he expected you to be like them, something like that … i don’t know— i’m tired.” she rambled while you stared at her with wide eyes, thoughts about him rushing through your mind.

“okay, let’s get you to bed and i’ll grab you a slice of bread to sober you up. you’ll thank me in the morning.” you say, standing up and making your way to the kitchen as charlotte changed into her pyjamas.

silence took over the apartment before charlotte yelled to you, “when do you go back home?” she asked. “in two days, but i won’t be gone long. i think i’m gonna get out a little more after seeing my family.” you respond and she squeals in excitement.

“okay, i’ll miss you but you don’t understand how excited i am for you to come out with all of us. it’s so fun, i swear.”

“i believe you, don’t worry.”

“maybe you can even bag michael clifford.”

“i don’t think so.”

“don’t knock it till you try it!”

you can’t argue any further, walking back into the room with two slices of bread. charlotte is sat in bed, her legs crossed. “he seemed interested, y/n. i think he’d do you some good, i know he’s not the usual person your family would want for you but it’s about you, not them.” she assured you. why do drunk people give the best speeches? char took the bread slices from you, quietly eating.

you sat down on your bed across the room from hers, putting your hair up out of your face. “i know, i’m just … worried.” you mutter.

“about?” charlotte chimed in.

“someone finding out i’m going to these parties, if i ever do, and things will get back to my family. it’s the only thing holding me back.” you explain.

“i don’t understand why your family is so overprotective about it, you’re in university, it’s bound to happen that you get invited to a party and you show up. i’m sure they did it growing up. parents are just hypocrites.” she muttered with the occasional smack of her lips while she still munched on her bread.

“yeah.” you agree, picking at your acrylics. charlotte finished off her food, kicking the duvet and pulling it over herself when she lay down.

“i’m going to sleep. you should too, you look a little tired.” she piped, switching her lamp off while yours was still on, but it made the room look so much more cosier than it did before.

you nodded, doing the same and turning your lamp off. “goodnight.” you murmured, turning around to face the wall. char didn’t respond, which meant she was already asleep. that woman falls asleep quicker than someone on anesthesia.

the next two days went way too quickly for your liking, going home for the weekend wasn’t something you were necessarily excited about. you could only prepare yourself for the questions that the family were going to ask you, the same ones every time. they never seemed happy that you were home, just wanting to know how you’re holding up with studying and everything else that school brings.

you walk up to the front porch, your baggage still sat in the backseat of your car. your knuckles knock against the hard wood, the dog immediately barking at the sound. your dog is the only thing you can find yourself missing about home, occasionally your room but it’s pretty small compared to your new room at university. you left all of your posters up in there, posters of bands and singers that you’ve been desperate to see in concert but when you asked to go, the answer was always no.

it wasn’t because of the financial state your family was in, they were completely fine with money, but you becoming the best version of yourself and not letting anything corrupt you was all they wanted. they’d disown you if they found out you liked someone like michael clifford, which is why your university life is completely hidden from them.

when you get back, you promised yourself that you’d start living properly. charlotte and the rest of your friends want you to come out, and if you keep shutting down opportunities they’re gonna give up on you. you can’t even remember the last time you went out with all of them as a group.

the door opened and it dragged you back into reality, your mum pulled you in for a tight hug, kissing your temple. “oh, y/n! how’ve you been?” she asked you with the biggest smile, pulling away and holding your shoulders.

“hi.” you laugh, stepping into your home. the warmth hits you fast, the smell of the usual candles filling your nose. “i’ve been good, things are getting better.” you say while the dog jumps up at you, seeking your attention.

“that’s great. have you been studying?” she wondered. first question you expected, one of the usuals. it’s getting boring now, you kick off your shoes with a little sigh. “yeah, i have. probably too much, i think i need a break from it.” you complained in hopes that she’d catch onto your foreshadowing for when you get back.

“how are your friends? what have they been up to recently?” your mum bombarded you with more questions, but this is a new one. you texted her about your friends a few days ago so she must be a little curious about them. “they’re great, they go to parties and stuff. they really want me to go but i always have to say no.” you mumble, clearly this subject brought your mood down but she didn’t seem to be bothered about that, she was just happy that you were focused on your learning instead of partying.

“amazing. it’s best for you, you’ll thank me when you grow up.” she smiled. when you grow up? as if you’re not already grown? this is exactly why you dread coming home. “your dad is outside in the garden if you want to go see him.” she continued, noticing the slight awkwardness.

“i’ll pass, if he wanted to see me that much he’d be here already.” you spat, opening the front door and striding towards your car to grab your things. thank god you only agreed to staying for the weekend, it it was any longer you wouldn’t leave your room until the stay was over.

you grab a few bags and walk back into the house, storming upstairs and walking into your room. your posters have been ripped down, nowhere to be seen on your desk or your bed or … anywhere. you squeeze your eyes shut, trying not to cry over something so small.

you open your eyes and put your bags down in the corner of your room. you don’t even bother unpacking before climbing into your bed, closing your eyes as tears began to spill. you hide your face in your pillow, trying to muffle the sounds of your sobs.

it’s going to be a long weekend.

you wake up with swollen eyes, cheeks still flushed from last night’s episode. you grab your phone, the screen burned your eyes with the brightness and you immediately swipe down to lower it. it’s 2am. you must’ve needed that sleep after all the travelling you did. you open instagram, pictures of another ongoing party fill your feed and it’s on everyone’s stories.

a sigh escapes your nose, standing up out of bed and changing into your pyjamas. you throw your clothes on your chair and open your bedroom door. the house is pitch black, so you turn your phone flashlight on to see the stairs. you walk down them, making your way to the living room and shutting the door behind you. you sink into the sofa, turning the tv on. the light casts over the room and you switch on a movie, something to fill the background noise while you doomscrolled.

somehow you fell asleep again, your phone flat against your chest with the tv on standby, waiting to be turned off.

you wake up to the scent of fresh bacon, a completely different setting to how you last woke up which was only a few hours ago. your dog, maggie, is curled beside you, you smile softly and ruffle her fur before grabbing your phone. your lock screen shows you that it’s 8am. you can’t help but surprise yourself with how much you’ve slept. maggie whines as you shift yourself to get up, pushing the recliner down with your calves. she follows you when you leave the living room, manoeuvring into the kitchen.

“good morning!” your dad chirps, pulling you into a hug. this is the first he’s seen of you in a few months. it still hurts that he didn’t bother to answer the door last night, too busy doing whatever he was doing in the garden. how could that be more important than you coming home?

“morning.” you mumble, your face pressed against his chest and your arms wrap around him loosely. “i’m gonna go and unpack.” you murmur, letting go of him and he let’s go too with a nod.

“alright, i’ll call you down when breakfast is ready.” he informed you as you walked away, making your way back upstairs to your room.

you unpack a few things, shoving pyjamas into drawers and hanging up a few clothes in your closet. it was pointless, but it was anything to stay away from the people in your house. you just wanted to go back to your dorm, surrounded by friends who actually seemed to care about your feelings. your dorm felt more like home than this ever has.

your mum pushes your door open without knocking, a mug in her hand and a serious look on her face. you dread whatever conversation she’s about to start.

“why do you seem so bothered about not being allowed to go to parties?” she asked you, lurking in your doorway with a frown. she finally caught on.

“because you act like i’m still a kid, like i still need to be under your wing when i shouldn’t be. i shouldn’t be worrying about you finding out that i’m drinking when i’m completely legal, it’s not fair.” you argue. “all of my friends go out without me because i’m too scared to go against your rules, still. i’m 21 years old and i’m still living life like i’m 14!” you continue, tears threatening to spill but you blink them away.

your mum stands in silence for a second, taking in what you just said but it’s obvious that she hasn’t. she doesn’t understand. “you know that we just want the best for you. partying will pause your education.” she stated. god, it’s like she’s trying to make you frustrated on purpose.

“one party isn’t going to make my grades drop. you’re insane.”

“you’re insane for wanting to spend a night with a bunch of drunk young adults, it makes me sick.”

“it’s called living life, we both know you did all of these things when you were my age so why can’t i?”

“i don’t want you to.”

“what makes you think that you can still control me and what i do?”

“you’re still worrying about what i’d think if you went out to a party, aren’t you? that’s what makes me think i can still control you, y/n.” your mum fumed.

“get out of my room.” you demanded, and she left so easily. the door closed behind her. you could scream for minutes on end because that’s how angry you were. she constantly makes you want to go against her rules and prove her wrong, show her that she couldn’t tell you what to do anymore but you never went through with it. that was your final straw, you want her to feel the same rage as you do right now.

the weekend has consisted of none stop arguing between the entire family, all you’ve done is lay in bed and just wish that everyone would leave you alone. you hardly even ate these past two days because you dread going downstairs and having to take part in another interaction with someone else in the house.

today is finally the day you get to leave and go back to your friends, back to the people who make you feel welcomed. you’re shoving your stuff back into your car. you made sure that you didn’t leave anything so you wouldn’t have to come back to this house for a reason. freedom awaits you back at university and you cannot wait any longer.

you climb into the drivers seat, starting your car and taking on the road.

you stop at a mall on the way back, buying some new clothes. you decided on a little rebrand, grabbing some things that would be considered slutty back at home. that’s exactly what you want. you wander around the shop, grabbing whatever your bank account could hold which was quite allot since you’ve saved up way too much money for someone who doesn’t need it. At least you’re doing something with it instead of leaving it sat in your account with no purpose.

you find yourself at the self checkout, scanning items one after the other. this is your form of making yourself feel better after that horrific weekend back home, you should’ve just stayed at university. part of you is a little glad that you went home, though. you wouldn’t be doing this right now if your parents hadn’t sent you overboard.

settling back into your car felt like pure victory, a new bag of things sat beside you in the passenger seat. you turn up the volume, connecting your phone to the car and pressing play on your driving playlist.

after a few hours of driving, you finally pull into the parking lot of your university. you’re radiating excitement to see everyone, all of you have been texting nonstop on the groupchat all weekend complaining about not being able to see each other but today is finally the day.

anyone would think you’d been separated for a year but it’s been less than three days since you’ve all been in the same room. you grab the bag of new clothes and open your car door, slamming it closed and locking your car behind you. you make your way inside and up to your room as quickly as humanly possible, sprinting up the stairs instead of taking the slowest elevator on earth.

shoes thud against the floor, dodging people on the steps. you reach your floor and push the door open to reveal the hallway. you walk down the corridor to catch your breath, stopping outside of your room. you pull the key out of your pocket, twisting the lock and pushing the door open, falling into the room.

“charlotte!” you call out, her squeals are heard from the bedroom which cause you to burst into a fit of giggles. she runs out of the bedroom and pounces on you.

“i missed you so much!” she exploded, hugging you so tight that breathing wasn’t even being considered anymore. “i missed you too.” you managed to say, your voice strained from the bone crushing hug.

“i’m so hungover, sorry.” she informed you with a chuckle, letting go of you. “this is the first time i’ve even gotten out of bed today, i don’t even know what time it is.” she scratched her head with a smile on her face because she knows that you wouldn’t judge her for having a lazy day.

“anyway, how was your time being back home?” charlotte wondered and your smile dropped. your lip quivered immediately and char noticed, pulling you into another hug. a gentle one this time. “oh, baby.” she whispered, one of her hands cradling the back of your head while you cried against her shoulder.

“it was the worst.” you mumbled, your voice muffled against her hoodie. her hand brushed through your hair, holding you close. “it’s okay, you’re home now.” she smiled, pulling away and holding your face in her hands. “i’m not letting you go back there for awhile.” she said, her thumbs brushing beneath your eyes to catch your tears.

her hands dropped to your shoulders, squeezing them. “shall we go grab your stuff? then we can chill out all day, just us.” she tilted her head, her voice so soft and comforting. you nod in response, wiping your nose with your sleeve. this girl is everything you could possibly ask for in a best friend.

both of you spent around an hour unpacking your things, putting everything back into place like it was before. you pick up the bag with all of your new clothes in, handing it to charlotte and she carries it into your room. she takes a peak into the bag, realising that this isn’t something you’ve worn before.

“you got new stuff and didn’t tell me?” she asked, ripping the bag open and sitting down on the floor. “can i see? please?” she looked up at you, her pupils increasing in size as she begged.

“fine.” you pretend to be bothered but you were gonna show her anyways.

you sit down on the floor in front of her, letting her take the clothes out of the bag and examining every piece of fabric and every accessory.

“where are you wearing these to? you don’t even go out that much.” she pondered, looking at you. you can’t even hide the smile on your face once she asked.

“i’m gonna start coming to these house parties you’re all going to. i need to start doing things with you guys instead of hiding in this room.” the shrill that charlotte let out was ear-piercing, she stood up and grabbed your hands to pull you up too before hugging you while jumping up and down. you didn’t know it was this serious.

“really? oh my god. there’s one on wednesday night, we have to go!” she yapped, her smile wider than you’ve ever seen it before. “i’m so excited you don’t even understand.” she beamed, letting go of you and rooting through the bag again. you didn’t protest, just letting her do what she wanted because she definitely had an idea in mind, you couldn’t disrupt her.

she mapped out an outfit for you on the floor, looking down at her masterpiece like it could be hung in an art gallery. “you’re wearing this on wednesday.” she demanded. “maybe michael will talk to you.” she looked up at you, a sneaky grin on her face and she wriggled her eyebrows. you looked away from her, your ears burning at the mere mention of his name.

“shut up.” you mumble, but it’s all lighthearted. “—anyway, what movie should we watch? i got this new lamp for the living room that changes colours and all that, thought i’d surprise you with new decoration.” charlotte ranted, folding your chosen outfit for wednesday night and placing it on the back of your desk chair.

her feet padded towards the living room, grabbing the box that held the light inside. “i hope we don’t need batteries for this shit, nobody carries batteries in their drawers anymore.” you could hear her talk to herself, slicing the box open with a pair of scissors. “yes! it’s plug in.” she celebrated and hit the heels of her feet against the floor in victory.

you both set up the light, casting a purple hue over the room. you find yourselves sprawled out on the couch, blankets layered over each other with a movie playing in the background. you’re too tired to even watch a movie though. you turn your head away from charlotte, hoping she wouldn’t notice that you definitely weren’t watching the movie she put on, eyes closed instead of paying attention.

the night of your first party came quicker than expected, you pulled your heeled boots onto your foot with all of your strength, sighing in relief when your foot slipped in at last. you zipped it up at the side and stood up, walking over to the mirror.

you haven’t felt this pretty in awhile, completely dolled up with the help of your friends’ makeup skills and your well put together outfit by charlotte. your hair is styled perfectly, a gorgeous blowout that looked like it was done by professionals. it wasn’t, it only took 4 of your friends to get it done in time.

you drag your lip liner over your lips, overlining them a little before topping it off with a lipstick and a lipgloss to finish up your makeup look. you turn around, revealing your completely new vibe to your friends and they’re the most supportive people ever, complimenting you over and over again. this is what girlhood really is, you’re yet to experience it fully but this almost reaches the top.

the drive to the house is loud, a group of 7 girls managed to fit into this uber, talking his ear off but he actually joined into the conversation occasionally when your friends, who were much more outgoing than you, spoke to him. he pulled into the driveway, slapping the steering wheel.

“is this okay?” the uber driver asked and every single person in the car approved, thanking him and stepping out of the car. the cold air hit you, the music could be heard from outside and a few drunk kids sat on the doorstep, on the lawn. just people everywhere. your friends guide you into the house, making sure to keep you close. you look around the hallway, groups of people coming over to greet charlotte and kat, who were the only ones in the friendgroup who hadn’t missed a party in almost an entire year, so they’re pretty well known in these places.

some guy from your class, you vividly remember his name being jacob. he had a bad reputation in school, but maybe he was decent outside of it? he hands you a red solo cup, a mysterious liquid swirling inside of it.

“first drink is on me, babe.” he winked and veronika, one of your friends, shoved his hand away, making you miss the cup. “she’s fine, go find someone else to spike, jacob.” the blonde muttered, glaring daggers at this boy. jacob let out a huff and walked away.

“he wanted to spike me?” you ask with wide eyes and veronika noticed your panicked expression. “oh— no! it’s an ongoing joke that he’s a dealer, it gets him mad so nobody takes shit from him. he figured that a newcomer would finally take something from him but you can’t give him the satisfaction.” she shrugged. “you have a lot to learn, y/n.” she laughed, her hand on your back as your friends moved to the kitchen to grab some drinks.

everyone roots through the giant fridge, grabbing their chosen drinks. charlotte throws you a fruity alcoholic drink since this is your first time properly drinking somewhere, it’s easier to introduce you to it all lightly with a beverage that didn’t even taste like alcohol. you catch it and crack it open, taking a sip. you hum into the drink, surprised that it actually tasted good.

once everyone eased into the party a little more, you and your friends were sat in the living room, making even more friends with a group of friendly strangers. you sat quietly, enjoying listening to everyone else chat while you sipped your third drink of the night in peace. this oddly seemed like your element, you easily settled in and had gotten used to the bass you could feel in your chest when a chorus of a song kicked in, blasting through the speakers.

a random, collective sound of cheers and yells erupted from the doorway, but all of you just brushed it off, average party noises. that’s when luke hemmings walked into the kitchen. the downstairs area is enormous and pretty open, so you could see most things happening around you apart from the front door and the hallway towards the stairs. apart from that, everything was visible. if luke hemmings was here, that definitely means he brought his friends, friends meaning michael.

you grabbed charlotte’s shoulder, shaking her a little for her attention. you lean close to her ear so she can hear you over the booming music. “luke is here, do you think michael is too?” you ask her and she nodded enthusiastically.

“definitely!” she beamed, her drink spilling a little. she’s already tipsy, you can tell by the way she dissociates every few minutes. “keep an eye out, i’ll call him over if he’s around.” she responded, getting a reaction out of you.

“don’t bring him over here! are you kidding?” you whisper-yell, shaking your head.

“why not?”

“because i can’t form a sentence whenever he’s around, what am i gonna do?”

“you’ll be fine, i’m friends with him so i’ll just introduce you guys.” she brushed you off like this was the most casual setup she’s ever done. you can’t argue back because she does have a point, she can just talk to him instead until he seems interested enough to talk to you too.

ashton irwin, veronika’s drummer boyfriend walked over to where you and the girls were sat. ashton is another one of michael’s close friends, they’re all in a band together you’ve found out through social media and them performing in public areas occasionally. you’ve never seen them live before, but through videos they seem amazing for such an underground band.

veronika is instantly captivated by her boyfriend, her back against his chest as she sat comfortably on his lap. “luke brought some drinks for everyone, this guy always has the shittest drinks ever.” ashton announced, ‘this guy’ meaning the party host. luke walked over like he’d been summoned, slamming endless amounts of booze onto the coffee table. he cracked open a beer, sitting down on the arm of the couch.

luke’s a little quieter compared to the rest of the band but he’s still quite approachable, he’s just loud with actions and … singing. he still hasn’t said a word since he’s stepped into the house, but he’ll probably loosen up once he’s had a few drinks. charlotte did say that he’s fun at parties, so he must just get better as time goes on.

“where did calum go? could’ve sworn he was just behind you.” veronika questioned ashton, leaning her head back against his shoulder. ashton scanned the area, calum and michael were nowhere to be seen. “i actually don’t know.” he answered her, his arm resting over her chest.

“also, since when did y/n start coming to these things?” ashton piped up again, looking at you as you quietly sipped on your drink. you turn your head to look at him.

“since … a few hours ago?” you reply, settling your drink down amongst the rest of the bottles that were scattered across the coffee table in front of you.

ashton nodded. “cool, it’s nice to finally see you loosening up.” he smiled sweetly. for such an intimidating guy, he’s actually really kind. you return his smile, looking back into the huddles of people, praying that you’d see the familiar vibrant head of hair soon.

that’s when he emerged from the crowd, eyeliner smudged and a lit cigarette between his lips. his fingernails painted black with a few random designs on them, coated in red. you sucked in a breath, catching charlotte’s gaze. she looked back at michael, waving her hand.

“michael!” she called him over and you straightened yourself up, pulling your short skirt down over your thighs a little more, though it didn’t cover you up in the way you wanted it to.

michael made his way over with a smirk, but a joking pout replaced it when he saw veronika on ashton’s lap. “awh … come on, veronika. you stole my spot.” he teased, taking a drag from his cigarette and blowing the smoke out. “fuck off, michael.” veronika retaliated, launching an empty can at his head. he let out a yelp, way too dramatic to be a genuine sign of hurt. he ran over to luke and seeked his best friends comfort, luke just patted his back, knowing that michael was just soaking up the attention.

michael pulled back from luke and moved all of the drinks from the coffee table, sitting down on it right infront of you. he raised his eyebrow at you. “since when did you start coming to parties? we’ve been looking forward to the day.” he asked you, talking to you like you’ve known eachother for ages when this is the first actual interaction you’ve had with this man.

“that’s what i said! we love to see it.” ashton chimed in, kicking michael’s leg to grab his attention. michael took one last drag of his cigarette before putting it out in the tray that sat beside him, leftover butts still waiting to be cleaned up inside it.

“yeah,” michael agreed, patting your knee twice. you still haven’t said a word to him, choosing to stay as quiet as possible. you didn’t realise how direct he was. “you’re a lil’ quiet, aren’t you?” he tilted his head, looking over your body shamelessly.

you catch on immediately, feeling your skin burn beneath your makeup. charlotte noticed how you tensed up, nudging your arm which basically said ‘get ahold of yourself’. you suck in a breath and nodded. “yeah, sorry.” you manage to say.

“that’s no problem. get a few drinks down you and you’ll be fine.” he shrugged, taking a sip from a bottle that holds a litre of straight vodka. how is he doing that without a reaction? he placed it back down, the taste burning his throat. “i asked charlotte about you the other day.” he told you. it’s almost like he doesn’t want the conversation to end, but you can’t tell the difference between drunk him and sober him.

“what did you ask her?” you question him, slowly easing into this. he’s actually pretty easy to talk to it seems, you’ve definitely noted in class that he doesn’t shut up.

“i asked her why you never show up to parties and she just said she doesn’t know. i’m glad you turned up this time. it’s a shame that this host is a pile of shit, he always invites the kids who ruin the party later on but we can just leave before then.” he rambled, shrugging at the end of his speech like he expected you to leave with him. did he mean it like that? god, this is so difficult.

“leave to where?” you asked him. this may as well just be an interview at this point, but this guy confused you to no end.

“the pub or something. you and your friends are legal, right?” you nod. “great, we’ll just find somewhere. ashton’s constantly out and about so we’ll probably just follow his lead.” michael ranted to you, taking your listener role way too seriously.

“i’m a talker, as you can tell. we’d make a good duo.” he grinned, handing you his bottle of vodka. you put a dismissive hand out, politely turning it down. “i’m good.” you deny his silent offer and he nodded, accepting your wish and downing some more of the alcohol before placing it back down on the floor beside his feet.

“i like your fit, you look different.” he spoke up after a moment of silence, tapping your knee to make sure he still had your attention. this man is touchy. you can’t hold back the smile that his compliment summoned.

“thank you.” you mutter, confidence growing. you’re starting to realise that you shouldn’t have been so nervous in the first place, michael is way nicer than you expected him to be. “you’re welcome.” you heard him say quietly. he scruffs up his red hair with his hand, pushing his fringe to the side.

as the night progressed, everyone drank way more than what they started with, consuming drinks with alcohol percentages higher than their grades. luke had definitely settled in more, the alcohol allowing him to be himself and not care about what anyone else was thinking.

the coffee table sunk a little under his and michael’s weight, both of them screaming song lyrics into the air. you just laughed at the noise pollution. luke got down to go to the bathroom for the millionth time, one of the many consequences you face when you drink too much.

michael scanned the people around him, noticing you quietly singing the lyrics to the song that only him and luke seemed to know. his grin widened as he grabbed your hand, pulling you up onto the coffee table. his free hand landed on your waist, steadying you.

“sing with me.” he slurred, grabbing both of your hands and swaying your interlocked hands in the air, the two of you dancing and singing together like you’d known each other for years. michael clifford might just be one of the most outgoing person you’ve ever met, clicking with people so easily.

flashing coloured lights beamed, casting a rainbow fade to take over the room. this is a position you never imaged yourself to be in, tipsy while holding hands with michael clifford and both of you just singing at eachother? it’s almost too good to be true. your parents haven’t even crossed your mind till now, you realised that this is the most perfect way to agitate them the same way that they did you.

little did you know, charlotte was already on it, recording videos of you and michael without you realising so that you can post them later on. specifically for your main account where your entire family follows you. this is the only thing that will prove to them that you aren’t under their wing anymore, they can’t control you like they used to.

the song came to an end, mixing into something that neither of you knew. michael let go of your hands, but his eyes never left yours. he leaned close to your ear, making sure that you could hear him over the pulsing beats.

“you wanna go outside for a bit?” he asked you, his fingers brushing over your forearm. the hairs on your arms stood up at the brief touch, watching as he pulled back from you. he looked even better close up, every detail of his face could be seen much clearer. you nodded in response and he wasted no time, stepping off the table and reaching his hand out to help you get down too. you take it and he leads the way, people making space for him to get through while you clung to his hand.

he slid the back door open, shutting it once you stepped through it. the sound of the music instantly cut out, the bass could still be heard but other than that it was pretty quiet. michael pulled another cigarette from his back pocket, lighting it up and taking a drag. he sat down on the wooden step, patting the spot beside him.

“c’mere.” he mumbled, holding his cigarette between his lips as he demanded you over. you sat down beside him, pulling your skirt down. the smell of smoke, alcohol and a small hint of cologne filled your nose. At least he made the effort to put a fragrance on, but it couldn’t fight off the smell of everything else he’d consumed tonight. he’s definitely seeing stars right now, you just can’t prove it.

he put his cigarette out, throwing it into a plant pot and just hoping for the best. “what made you come here?” he asked you, looking at your side profile. you just closed your eyes, debating whether to tell him the truth or making something dumb up. he probably won’t even remember this in the morning … fuck it.

“my parents.” you begin. “they’re still acting like i’m a kid, you know? i’m tired of it. all i’ve done is sit in my dorm and study when i could be doing something with my life. tonight is the night, i guess.” you open up a little, but still leaving out big parts of the true story. it’s too early to tell him about your family issues in depth, that’s also a story for the sober version of michael, if you ever get to that point.

he nodded, taking your role of being the listener. “i get that. i mean— i don’t, because my parents never really cared about what i did, but i understand.” he said, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and rubbing your bicep, the friction causing that spot to warm up. “my parents weren’t necessarily around much so coming to university wasn’t really different compared to how it is back home.” he opened up too, his fingers drifting up your shoulder to twirl your hair around them. “seems like we have a few things in common, hm?” he let go of your hair, keeping his hands to himself this time.

you look back at him with a slight smile on your face, your eyes showing him fondness. “yeah, i think we do.” you agree and his eyes meet yours. neither of you can look away. “do you wanna use me as a way to get back at your parents for whatever is going on?” he asked you, dead serious.

“how?” you frown, suddenly your mood peaked a little.

“this is gonna sound horrific.” he laughed, shaking his head in slight embarrassment. “i’m a pretty good fake boyfriend, i can be that for you.” he said, his words slightly slurred. you can’t help but wonder whether this was drunk michael talking or if he was being genuine.

you can’t hold back your laugh anymore, so you just cackle in his face. “you’re being serious? like you’ll actually wake up tomorrow morning and remember you set yourself up for this?” you question him and he nodded enthusiastically.

“yeah! i’m very aware of what i’m doing right now.” he smiled.

“—okay … i’m down.” you respond.

“cool.”

“cool.” you return.

suddenly going back to your parents’ house didn’t seem like the worst idea ever. you’re almost excited to talk to michael about this in the morning.

he tapped the tip of your nose, dragging you out of your thoughts. he pulled his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it and handing it to you. “gonna need your number, babe.” he said, watching as you bit your cheeks to suppress that smile. you took his phone, typing in your phone number from memory, handing it back to him and letting him choose your contact name. “please remind me of this conversation tomorrow, i promise i’ll remember but i’ll just need a little heads up.” he told you.

“no worries.” you shrug with a smile.

that next morning you woke up to a text from a random number, but the connection name to it was just ‘michael’, nothing else, just that. you knew who it was, that gorgeous red-headed boy who you didn’t expect to click with that easily.

michael: hey! im doing some rehearsals at this address in the next 3 hours if u wanna come down. decided to send this 3 hours prior incase u woke up late

that was sent an hour ago, so you still have time.

y/n: hii michael ! i’ll definitely come down and meet you there, im surprised youre not way too hungover for this

michael: trust me i fucking am that’s why im asking u to come here for emotional support

you giggle to yourself, catching charlotte’s attention from her bed.

“what’re you giggling at?” she quizzed you, her hair a mess on top of her head. she rubbed her eyes, mascara smudged all over the top half of her face.

“michael.” you reply like it was obvious, texting him back.

y/n: you and me both

“oh my god, what happened with him when you guys left last night? i was way too blacked out too even ask you.” she sat up instantly, pulling the covers over herself.

“he basically asked to be my fake boyfriend to piss off my parents.” you tell her, almost laughing at the vague memory. charlotte found that hilarious, laughing in your face. “seriously?” she giggled, covering her face.

“seriously!” you yell back at her with a grin, throwing one of your pillows at her across the room. “i’m going to see him today at his rehearsals or something. he said he needs me for emotional support.” you tell her, getting out of bed.

“how romantic.” charlotte teased.

“shut up.” you shook your head, but the smile on your face defeated the point of the seriousness in your tone. “gonna have a shower and get dressed, anyway. you’re welcome to annoy me while i do my makeup.” you tell her, stretching your arms out and walking towards the bathroom.

you switch the shower on, dropping your clothes and kicking them to the corner of the room. you step into the shower, the water immediately running through your hair. the feeling instantly relaxes you after the night you had last night, pulling you down from the high that still lasted even though it was multiple hours singe you’ve come home and settled.

after showering, you wrap a towel over your head and another around your body, tying it at the top to cover yourself. you open the bathroom door so the mirror wouldn’t be so blurry in the next five minutes. you pad into the kitchen in search for food, opening cupboards and slamming them over and over again as if food was going to appear with each time you looked.

“why do we never have food in?” you groan to charlotte and she gets out of bed, walking into the kitchen.

she frowned, opening the fridge. “what the fuck? how do two girls go through this much food?” she wondered, looking at you.

“two? i haven’t even been here the past three days!” you clock her and she rolls her eyes, shutting the fridge.

“i’m sure michael will get you food.” charlotte said.

“i feel bad though, i don’t want him to pay.”

“he’s a man, he has to pay. it’s the rules.” she shrugged, grabbing the last yoghurt pot and walking away. “actually, i’ll watch you do your makeup.” she turned back around, opening the bathroom door with the nudge of her hip.

“don’t eat in the bathroom, char, that’s disgusting.” you complain and she looked at her yoghurt pot, still sealed. “i don’t even know why i grabbed it, i’m not even hungry.” she walked back into the kitchen and put it back.

“come on, you still have an hour or so. can i pick your outfit out again? he loved the last one, i could tell.” she asked, skipping into the bathroom. she pulled down the toilet seat and sat down on it, crossing her legs. you follow behind her, grabbing your makeup bag from the counter and pulling it closer to you.

you start your makeup routine while charlotte just talks your ear off, running around the dorm and showing you different outfit combinations from clothes that she found in your closet. how is someone this full of energy at this time in the morning after a night where you never once saw her not dancing?

makeup is now on, clothes are on, teeth are brushed, hair is done and you’re just waiting for charlotte to shut her mouth so you can leave. she finally grabs a drink, your chance to tell her that you’re leaving.

“alright, i’m gonna go and meet him. i’ll see you later!” you say, opening the front door and making sure to take some spare keys with you.

“have fun, bye!” you hear her yell back and you close the door behind you. you run down the stairs, unlocking your car by pressing a button on your keys once you reach a decent distance from it. you slide into your car, connecting your phone to it and putting on the best album you know because you can’t afford to look down and skip a song while driving.

you pull your maps up and typing in the address that michael had sent to you, beginning to drive with directions being launched at you every two seconds.

it wasn’t a long drive, probably 20 minutes from school was this secluded place that michael had directed you to. it was … something. very secretive, it seemed like a hidden studio of some sorts. it probably is, actually, you tend to forget he actually has albums selling with his band.

you get out of the car and pull out your phone, he’s already messaged you.

michael: just walk around the left side of the place, im having a smoke break so ill just wait for u to show up

you look up from your phone, walking around the area till you reach the far left. it’s not as messy as you expected it to be since this place is just giving weird energy. you walk down the side of the building till you spot a pair of worn converse around the corner, leading up to michael.

the rocks beneath you crunch with each step, causing michael to look up at you with wide eyes before softening the second he realises it’s you. he stood up, tossing his cigarette to the floor and opening his arms.

“hey,” he greeted you, his voice hoarse. you walk over to him and accept his hug, wrapping your arms around him and relaxing against his chest.

“it’s nice to see you sober.” you tease, looking up at him with your chin against the centre of his chest. he just looked down at you, backwards cap keeping his red hair out of his face.

“you too, babe.” he squeezed you before letting you go, walking over to the door. “come in, it’s freezing.” he opened the door and held it open till you stepped inside, warmth instantly hitting you. you watch as he locks the door, taking a seat on an empty chair and crossing your legs.

“so, when can i meet your parents?” michael cuts to the chase, sitting down on the floor and grabbing an acoustic guitar. it looked weird on him, you could only picture him with an electric.

“uh … i don’t know when i wanna go back.” you say, surprised that he even remembered that conversation. “i have to post all of the pictures first so they ask me about you, then i’ll plan something with them.” you tell him and he sits and stares at you while you talk.

“alright.” he looked down at his guitar, tuning it quietly while silence falls over the two of you.

“is that why you asked me to come here?” you ask him, cutting through the quiet.

“nah, i was just wondering.”

“so why am i here?”

“emotional support, i told you.” he smiled, catching your gaze again. “you’ve got this energy about you. it’s calming.” he said lowly.

you bite your bottom lip subconsciously, avoiding his eye contact now. “thanks.” you mumble, but still trying to show your appreciation.

“no problem, angel.” he just knew exactly how to push it, how to make your heart beat a little faster by using dumb pet names that somehow had you reacting like a teenager in love.

silence takes over the room, you find it a little awkward since you barely even know michael but he looks relaxed enough which settles you, but it still doesn’t sit right with you that you’re sitting with michael clifford. the man you could only dream about talking to, and now he’s asking you about meeting your parents? you know it’s not serious, you have to swallow that thought down, but it still feels real somehow.

you sit and watch him as he strums random chords on his guitar for no reason, he said that this is rehearsals but he’s definitely just here to show his face. he looked up from his guitar, the strings stopping their sound when he stopped playing.

“you should probably do your little instagram post before saying anything to anyone.” michael spoke up. “charlotte was like our lil’photographer last night, why?” he questioned you with a smug smile, his painted fingernails scratched the wood of the guitar. you’re silenced by his question, not even knowing how to answer. how could you answer that without giving away the fact you’ve been plotting on him for awhile? you suck it up and blurt out the first excuse that comes to your mind.

“she tends to take pictures of literally everything. her digital camera is constantly out of memory.” you tell him, covering up the fact that she was taking pictures because you were finally talking to michael and actually having fun for once in your life. he still doesn’t know about most of your family problems, you don’t want him to know until you’re positive that you can trust him with that kind of information.

“i get that.” he nodded. “she’s making me want to get a camera too.” michael told you, looking back down at his guitar and strumming chords quietly again.

“why don’t you get one?” you propose the idea to him, moving from your seat on a chair to sit down on the floor with him. you watch his fingers as they easily manoeuvre to press down on different strings.

“i think if i was to get one it wouldn’t be mine anymore, calum would steal that from me within seconds.” he says with a soft smile, shaking his head subtly.

“i haven’t spoken to calum yet, is he nice?” you ask michael.

“oh yeah, i think he’s debatably the nicest out of all of us. shame you’ve been left to deal with the most annoying ones.” he chuckled at his own words.

“why, who are the most annoying ones?” you push him for a better answer, a cheeky smile creeping onto your face as you wait for him to answer the question.

“luke and ashton.” he replied instantly.

“why aren’t you including yourself?” you laugh when his head shoots up to look at you, an offended look on his face but he knew you were joking around.

“‘cause i’m your favourite out of the four of us, obviously.” he returned, not giving you a proper answer but you didn’t mind.

“i won’t deny that.” you shrug, your smile turning softer, into something more shy.

“had a feeling you wouldn’t.” his knee bumped yours. you could feel the heat creeping up your neck.

you spent a long time with him in this questionable studio, talking about stories from when you were kids, stories from a few years ago and even stories from the past week. he told you all about his touring experience, the adrenaline he gets from playing shows. you tell him about what you have planned for your future, what your grades mean to you. your side of the conversation was probably so boring compared to his, but he continued to look interested no matter what.

after this day, you spent an unhealthy amount of time with michael. you’ve learned so much about him over these past couple of weeks and you both just get each other in ways you didn’t even expect. you've been to his house a few times, not his dorm but his actual family home and you even met his parents for the first time. he’s yet to meet yours, though. they know about him now, but they don’t seem very eager to meet him because he’s not what they would want for you, you know that.

you both step through his dorm room front door, he closes the door behind you and drags a hand down his face, completely exhausted after the party you’ve both just experienced.

“that girl was pissing me off.” he told you, his temper still at a high. for some backstory, this girl who you don’t even know the name of, but she somehow knew yours, wouldn’t leave you and your friends alone. constantly latching onto michael even though this girl had a boyfriend who was at the party with her. she’d also asked you about why you’ve only just started showing up to these things, stating that you’re just trying to impress michael and making up utter lies just to embarrass you.

michael had completely lost it, snapping at her till her boyfriend came over and thought it was smart to try and start something with michael in the middle of the living room. personally, you wouldn’t dare to lay a finger on michael if ashton irwin was around, that guys’ arms are insane.

you had to drag michael out of this party before anything happened, which takes you back to the present.

“i know, but at least we got out and nobody got hurt.” you say, trying to dismiss his anger in attempt to get him to forget about it somehow. you haven’t had much to drink, neither has michael to be honest, which is surprising.

“thank you.” he finally said, his back facing you as he scanned the fridge’s contents but nothing seemed to catch his eye, just a bottle of water. he placed it on the counter and shut the fridge, turning around to look at you. he rested his lower back against the counters.

you frown subconsciously. “for what? all i did was drag you out.” you can’t help but laugh.

“exactly. i didn’t wanna be there anyway.” michael shrugged. “c’mere.” he called you over quietly, signaling with his hand for you to come closer, which you do. he opens his arms and you sink into him, one of his arms resting around your shoulders and the other holding you tightly around the waist. he let his cheek relax against the top of your head, holding you close.

“what’s this for?” you ask him, a fond smile coating your face as you hold him just as tight.

he dragged his hand up and down your side gently. “i don’t know.” he answered you. you didn’t ask him for a better answer, just accepting his uncertainty. “you’re just really … i don’t know— sorry.” you could feel his nerves, his palms felt warmer against your skin. you nod against him, trying to tell him that he didn’t need to elaborate and that you already understood without words.

“i meant to say that you’re really observant.” he finally told you. “—in a good way. nobody’s ever done something like that for me before. it sounds dumb because it’s not even that serious but usually people just want me to be a dick for their own entertainment, you know?” he opened up a little more. you could tell he had been wanting to get this off his chest.

you pull back a little to look at him and he remembered his place, taking his hands off you and scruffing up his hair instead.

“i didn’t mean to dump that on you, my bad.” he shook his head, trying to ignore the way you looked up at him. “uh … my room is down the hallway to the left. i’ll take the couch.” michael proposes, rubbing his eyes. it seemed like he was trying to find ways not to look at you. you frowned a little but tried to keep your gaze soft, knowing he’s still got that temper.

“why aren’t you looking at me?” you ask simply. michael pushed his tongue against his cheek, causing a slight bulge in his cheek before replying.

“what?” he mirrored your furrowed brows and pouty expression, his eyes finally meeting yours. it confused you because he’d always been one for eye contact. it’s usually you trying to hide yourself from his gaze, not the other way around.

“i asked you why you aren’t looking at me.” you stated and he just looked defeated now. he leaned against the counter again, his green eyes settling on you more comfortably.

“you just suck vulnerable words out of me without even doing anything. it’s embarrassing how easy i find it to tell you things.” he bit the inside of his cheek, you watched as it hollowed and casted a small shadow beneath it in the lighting, emphasisising his cheekbone.

you shake your head lightly. “why’s that embarrassing? i’m here for a reason. i want to know you.” you tell him, words just rolling off your tongue without even thinking about them. you’re glad you can blame the alcohol on this conversation, even though you’re barely drunk.

“i know you do.” he responded quietly, his large hand tucking your hair behind your ear and cupping one side of your face. “i’ve never had a friend like you. luke’s obviously my best friend but we don’t have deep conversations, only when we’re shitfaced, but i barely even remember anything he’s ever told me. you’re different, i’m not used to it.” he rambled, but you wanted him to keep going. his hand dropped back to his side and a smile creeped onto his lips again.

“see? you did it again.” michael let out a chuckle. his eyes drifted to the clock on the wall.

2:34am.

he looked down at you again. “it’s late. we’ll talk in the morning, okay?” his arms wrapped around you again and you can’t help but relax into him with ease. he holds you against him for what felt like a short amount of time, but it was the kind of hug where neither of you wanted to let go. you could see that michael was fighting sleep, though.

he pulled away and looked down at your clothes, pouting his lips as he processed a thought. “you need clothes, don’t you?” he sighed.

you look down at yourself. there’s no way you’re sleeping in jeans, that’s criminal. “ … yeah.” you look up at him and nod slowly.

“my drawers are filled with comfy clothes. just don’t go in the bottom one unless you need a change of underwear. pick out anything you want, babe.” he said and you immaturely tried not to laugh at him pointing out his bottom drawer. of course he noticed. “that wasn’t even funny.” he grinned, turning around and cracking open his water.

“kinda was.” you argue back.

“shut up and go to bed. i’m not doing this.” he laughed, turning back around to face you with his bottle in hand. he leaned over and pressed his lips to your temple. “goodnight.” he whispered to you while his lips still brushed against your skin. he pulled back and hydrated himself like he didn’t just kiss your skin as if it meant nothing.

you step back from him. “goodnight, michael.” you say, walking down the hallway and taking a left like he said. you push open the door to reveal his room. it looked exactly how you pictured it to look. the only thing that surprised you was his made bed for some reason, you expected it to be a mess.

you turn to root through his clothes, pulling out a grey t-shirt and sweatpants with strings so you could adjust the size around your hips. you tie a bow in the front of the sweatpants once you were changed. you peel the duvet off the bed and climb in, instantly throwing it back over you to trap the warmth under the blanket. your eyes close, tiredness consuming you.

you wake up in the exact same position as you were when you remember falling asleep, hands tucked close to your face and holding the duvet up to your chin. you turn over and grab your phone, a message from your mum lingered on your notification centre.

you tap on it, bracing for whatever she has to say this time.

mum 💓: when can the family meet your boyfriend? we can book a table at a restaurant for this weekend if you’d like. just call me when you wake up and let me know x

you call her like she told you to, holding the phone to your ear as you stretch out on michael’s bed while waiting for her to pick up. the ringing suddenly cut off and her greeting pulled you out of thought.

“hi mum.” you greet her back, your voice croaky with sleep. “i’ll see if he’s free this weekend and then we can sort out a table and all that.” you tell her.

“why would he be busy?” she asked you, and you’re slowly starting to realise that she’s starting to get snarky already. you aren’t even two minutes into the phone call and she’s pulling this? unbelievable.

you let out a short breath before continuing, “i don’t know? he has things to do just like i do. we go to the same school, i thought i told you this already.” you snap at her. everytime you talk either one of your parents this is the kind of attitude that you have to endure on. it’s getting tiring and this is exactly why michael is so willing to help, even though he’s yet to meet the two individuals that you still somehow call parents.

they’ll probably never change no matter what michael plans on doing for you in the future, but you know that it’s still worth trying. it’s also another way to keep talking to him. this is probably the happiest you’ve been in a long time and it’s not because of the partying and rebelling against your parents’ rules. it’s because of him, he’s letting you be yourself and he’s actually listening to you when you tell him about your problems.

problems meaning family.

“i meant that he’s busy partying.” she finally said what she had initiated in the first place. you knew that was what she meant but you wanted her to actually get her point across.

“i know that’s what you meant. that’s why i’m getting a little annoyed over the fact that you can’t put things past people.” you replied, your tone certainly more stern than it once had been.

you could hear your mum complaining to your dad, her hand over the speaker causing her words to sound muffled.

“just book the table for 6pm, we’ll be there.” you finish, hanging up and slamming your phone down on the bed. you fall face flat into the pillow, letting out a muted groan. a knock sounds at the door, fist against hard wood. you peel your face from the pillow, mumbling something that seemed to be loud enough for him to take it as a sign that he could come in.

you hear a snort escape him.

“what’s up with you?” he raised his eyebrows, a smirk creeping onto his face like he already knew the answer.

“my mum.” you rubbed your right eye with the bottom of your palm. the matress dipped at your feet and your blurry vision immediately regained itself. michael sat there, fiddling with his polished black nails in silence. he didn’t press for another response, allowing you to take the time you needed incase you wanted to talk about it.

you sit up further, the sheets pooling at your waist. “i know that we’re doing this to piss her off but it’s annoying that she actually shows it, you know? she’s already making comments about you and she hasn’t even met you.” explaining this to him felt forbidden, like this would genuinely hurt his feelings. you know it won’t, this is most likely the least of his concerns but you can’t hold back your feelings.

michael leaned backwards till his back hit the mattress, the bed shaking beneath you slightly the second his body recoiled until he settled. he stared at the ceiling, a look of unbotheredness covering his face. you knew he wouldn’t care.

he then spoke up, “she might like me.” that’s even worse than her hating him.

“what do i do if she does? you can’t be my fake boyfriend forever.” you ramble, watching as a smirk creeped up onto michael’s plump lips.

“who says i need to be your fake boyfriend?” his head turned, trying to catch your reaction. you felt the blood in your face instantly, cheeks turning pink. you rest your chin against your hands, covering the blush with your fingers. there’s no chance that you actually pulled that off, but you’re just praying that he doesn’t mention it.

“are you still drunk?” you ask him jokingly alongside with the raise of an eyebrow.

he laughed, diverting his attention back up at the ceiling. “maybe.”

you took this moment to just admire his presence. admire his ability to boost your mood within seconds. admire his willingness to do such a big favour for you. admire the curve of his nose, the way his lips part slightly, the way his eyelashes look way longer from the side and how his jaw clenches every few seconds.

“have you drank water?” you ask him, unable to look away.

“don’t baby me. i’m not drunk, don’t worry.” he sat up, turning himself to sit in the centre of his bed. he watched your expression falter, your eyebrows knitting together. something he’s learned about you is that you never fail to show exactly what you’re thinking just through the slight movement of your features.

he pulled at the duvet, “can i?” he requested, wanting to join you at your side.

“it’s your bed, do what you want.” you shrug, trying to act like this isn’t what you’ve been daydreaming about in class for the past 6 months. “i was just checking with you.” he mumbled.

he shifted his weight to sit comfortably beside you, pulling the familiar sheets over himself and settling back against the headboard. your body heat had already warmed up the bed beneath the duvet, it felt sensational over his freezing legs.

“i should’ve just took the bed and threw you to the couch last night.” he teased, closing his eyes and relaxing comfortably.

“so nice of you to say that.” you retaliated, earning a quiet chuckle from michael beside you.

the second a comfortable silence washed over both of you, the thought of your mum’s question had wriggled it’s way back into your mind. you needed to ask michael if he was free.

this weekend.

to meet your parents.

“michael?” your voice comes out quiet, but he hears you anyway. you heard the headboard creak beneath the shift of his head, which definitely turned to look at you. “yeah?” the rasp in his voice could’ve sent you into a spiral, but you managed to keep your composure.

“my mum was asking if you’re free this weekend. she wants you to join the family for dinner at a restaurant.” you mention, finally looking at him.

he nodded. “i’m free.” his eyes softened slightly, looking up at you through his eyelashes in a way that could make your heart melt. “are you sure you’re okay with this?” he asked you quietly. this was a side of him you rarely saw, the silenced version of him where he genuinely cares about someone’s feelings.

“i should be asking you that.” you say and he just raised his eyebrows. “sorry— uhm … yeah, i’m okay with it. are you?”

michael’s eyes drifted off to his fingernails again, picking at the polish. “i’m not scared of your parents. i’m not saying you are, but you seem more nervous about this than i thought you were.” he shared with you.

“i’m not … scared of them, michael.” you state and he nodded in understanding, even though he didn’t quite understand. “i’m just— they’re just— ugh, i don’t know how to word it.” you stutter, looking down.

his attention shifted back to you, his voice so soft. “take your time, i’m listening.” his arm slid around your shoulders gently, allowing you to relax against his side. the room had gone silent, just the sound of his delicate breathing filled your ears.

“i’m not scared of them. i just have to be cautious with what i say or how i say it.” you tell him, slowly relaxing into this new position. “i’m worried about seeing them again. the last time i did it wasn’t the best experience ever, i’ve probably told you about it while drunk at some point.”

“you have, i remember.” you could hear the smile on his face as he spoke. you tilted your head upwards, looking at him with a puzzled expression.

“why are you smiling?” you wondered.

“i like that you’re comfortable with telling me what’s on your mind.” he said, and he sounds so genuine. “you aren’t someone i expected to have this with.” he continued, leaning his head back to look down at you.

the front door sounded, opening and closing. you both slightly moved away from eachother and michael stood up soon after. “hang on.” he muttered, walking out of the bedroom. luke’s voice filled the dorm and you let out a frustrated sigh. seems like you both forgot he had a roommate.

the sound of feet thudded against the floor outside of michael’s bedroom, distant chatter could be heard till the door opened again. michael closed the door behind him after saying his final words to luke, scruffing up his hair.

“you should probably go, luke wants to grab some food.” he told you and you nodded, sliding out of the bed to reveal the outfit you had put together last night from the midst of his wardrobe. michael bit the inside of his cheek, his lips tilting downwards as he tried to suppress a laugh.

“shut up.” you crouched down to the floor to grab your clothes from the night before. “i’m getting changed, so …” you hold the fabrics close to your chest while michael still stood by the door.

“so?” michael teased, unable to hold back his smirk afterwards. you rolled your eyes and put your clothes down on the bed. “not funny.” you muttered back to him.

“i’ll be in the kitchen. do you want breakfast before you go?” he questioned you and your head shook.

“no, i’ll have something when i get home.”

“you sure? luke brought waffles.”

“i’m good, michael.”

“suit yourself.”

the door clicked shut.

charlotte’s face could be the definition of ‘concerned’ if the dictionary needed visuals the minute you stepped through the door. she held a white mug that most likely held half-drunken tea, her oversized pyjama shirt hung low over her thighs.

“where did you go last night?” is the first thing she could think to say. you wore the same clothes you had on when she last saw you leave the party with an extremely frustrated michael.

“michael’s place.” you tell her. is that not obvious? or does she just need the confirmation?

charlotte had fell silent, giving you a quick look over. you definitely looked a mess. michael didn’t have a hairbrush laying around, he didn’t have makeup wipes either. you wouldn’t have bothered to take it off even if he did have the wipes, though. last night was tiring.

“that’s where you went? everyone was stressing about where you had gone!” she threw her free arm up in distress. she placed her mug down and slid her hands up her cheeks and into her hair, gripping the roots. “sorry. it was rough last night, wasn’t it? are you and michael okay?”

“we’re fine, he calmed down when we got back. he sobered up pretty quick after what happened.” you addressed.

the smirk that grew on charlotte’s face just read ‘trouble’. “oh, okay … so where did you sleep?” she hinted at something that did not happen.

“in his bed, charlotte.” you cross your arms with an unamused expression but that soon changed when you realised how that sounds. you push air into your cheeks and widen your eyes.

“really?” charlotte seemed intrigued, tilting her head with a smug look.

“no! well, yes, but he stayed on the couch.” you’re quick to defend yourself and charlotte nodded slowly, calming down from the misleading impression that you had given her.

“boring. he definitely likes you, so …” she shrugged, picking up her mug and taking a sip of her drink like she didn’t just drop the news of your life. you have to bury the excitement down in yourself to stay composed. “he doesn’t. we haven’t known eachother long enough.” you comment and charlotte immediately wants to prove you wrong.

“you’d be surprised, y/n. i’ve known this man for awhile, you know i have, and i’ve never seen him click with someone this easily.” and through that, she definitely proved you wrong. you’ve only just gotten over your fear of michael clifford and now you’re being told by your best friend that she’s certain he has feelings for you? you need to change the subject before you explode.

“he’s meeting my family this weekend.” you tell charlotte and the clank of her mug against the countertop caught you off guard.

“as in friday? that’s two days away, you do realise that?”

“yeah, as in friday.”

“i thought you didn’t wanna go back for awhile because of your parents … does he know what your parents are like?”

“he’s heard enough about them to piece it together.” you shrugged while charlotte struggled to hold back her questions. she had too many for your liking but you know she’s just trying to look out for you. she’s the person you come back to after a weekend at home and she’s always there to comfort you when needed. you understand she just wants to know that you’re certain on this.

“please text me throughout, or call me if you can.” she pleaded before adding, “and michael will take care of you, you know? he’s good like that. if anything happens he’ll be there. i know you’ve managed to open up to him about the whole family situation, so he understands. he’s nicer than he looks.” her words never failed to soothe the nerves you didn’t know you had.

you nod expressively. “of course i will, you’re dumb for thinking i wouldn’t.” you mention and she just laughs, clearly finding your comments amusing. the second she calmed down she added, “are you going for dinner or are you staying over?”

that actually made you think, because you haven’t slept in the same bed as michael and where else would he sleep at your parents’ house? “i was going to stay but i’ll probably just come home. i don’t plan on staying for awhile anyways.” you return.

“fair enough.” she agreed. “i’m going out for lunch, so i’m gonna have a shower.” she then continued to announce.

“lunch? with who?” you frown.

charlotte looked hesitant, like she completely regretted telling you that.

“luke.” she squeaked and your face brightened.

“luke as in … luke hemmings?” you cackle and her face flushed. “i didn’t know this was happening!”

“it’s not happening — nothing is happening.” charlotte stated in attempt to defend herself but nothing was going to save her from this. it’s not even that big of a deal but she’s fun to tease. “shut up, i’m leaving.” she rolled her eyes jokingly and ran off to the bathroom.

you’re left in the quietness of the small dorm room, feet beginning to pad into the shared bedroom. your desk has been free of endless books and pens for two weeks now, you’re slacking and you dread the point that it catches up with you. the desk has leftover details of makeup on it instead, replacing the heaps of revision you once did.

schoolwork has always been a big part of your daily routine, now it’s been forgotten about that easily. part of you regrets it, you do want the best for yourself but maybe that means getting a closer bond with your friends, or getting a closer bond with people you don’t even have a bond with yet.

the dreaded day came quicker than you had expected. you’re getting ready without the assistance of charlotte, your personal stylist, which you find difficult but atleast she isn’t here to complain when you steal her clothes.

it’s for a special occasion, she has to understand.

you’ve been rooting through her wardrobe for awhile, selecting a dress that matched michael’s aesthetic perfectly. it’s quite short but it does the job. the dress is matched with a pair of black heels, adding a few inches to your height. your nails are long, sharp, polished with a dark shade of black. your fingers are coated with silver rings that catch onto your styled hair if you ran your hands through it too much.

a knock on the front door interrupts your moment of admiring yourself in the mirror, heels beginning to click and clank against the hardwood floors. you open the door, michael standing on the other side. you watch as his eyes automatically trail down your body, flicking back up to your eyes the moment he realised what he had done.

“you look pretty.” he mentioned casually, though it felt like anything but casual. he didn’t give you a chance to reply. “ready to go?” he asked and you looked back into your dorm.

“yeah, let me grab my bag.” you warned him before quickly making a trip to your room, packing a few essentials and making your way back to him. you stepped out of the dorm and locked up, stuffing your key into your purse.

michael could sense your anxiety, it radiated from you like body heat. “we don’t have to go if you don’t want to, you know that? nobody is forcing you and we can reschedule to when you’re ready.” his hand gently rested on your bare shoulder, his thumb slightly caressing your skin back and forth.

you look up at him, your heels still not making a difference in your noticeable height comparison. “it’s fine. i always get like this.” you assure him but that doesn’t change his concern.

“that’s not normal.” he exposed you and you just nodded.

“i know.”

“i’m here, you’re gonna be perfectly fine. if you want out, just tell me and i’m starting the car immediately.” he grabbed your other shoulder, pulling your body against his. the side of your face hovered over his chest, careful not to ruin his shirt with makeup.

“thank you, mikey.” you appreciate him, but his name dies in your throat when you dare to mutter a nickname you didn’t know whether he liked or not. he didn’t have a reaction, so that must be a good sign.

“don’t thank me. i’m doing the bare minimum, babe.” he pulled away from the short lasting hug, his boots thudding against the floor with each step. “let’s get this over with, then.” he flashed you a full smile.

the car ride hadn’t been as exhausting as it usually is. company in the car felt so much better when coming down to your home town. the sickening feeling stayed lingering in your gut but you knew michael was dead set on helping you escape if needed.

he pulls into the carpark, steering the car into a good spot and it soon comes to a halt. once the car falls silent, that’s when the familiar pit in your stomach regained life, here to haunt you throughout the dinner.

“you look more nervous than me.” michael noted, the first thing you’d heard since the radio had been shut off. you don’t look at him, just stare at the stationary car infront of you.

“i probably am.” you tell him and he doesn’t make a joke of it, he doesn’t laugh.

“i’ll be next to you the entire time, don’t forget. i won’t even take a bathroom break, and that’s some serious stuff.” he replied, clearly trying to settle your mind.

“i’ll hold you to that.” you laugh. his attempt to calm you down definitely seemed to have an impact, but you don’t know whether it’s what he’s saying or if it’s just because it’s him.

“before we go, has charlotte told you anything about her and luke?” he asked and your interest peaked, almost snapping your neck due to how fast you had turned your head to him.

“no. has he said anything to you?” you replied, praying for a good answer.

“nah, all i know is that they’re out all day today—“

“seriously? and she didn’t even bother tell me where she went earlier! i woke up to an empty apartment. can you believe that?”

“i can’t believe anyone would do something like that to you.” he replied with giggles interrupting his sentence.

“you’re making fun of me.” you state.

“no i’m not, i’m serious.”

“sure.”

he tapped the wheel, clicking his seatbelt undone with his other hand. you do the same, your fingers hooking under the door handle, preparing yourself to step out.

“i’m scared.” you sigh, your hands falling back to your lap.

“why? talk to me.” his voice had dropped to something softer, more vulnerable. he turned his body slightly towards you to his best ability, though the car was a crammed space.

you shake your head. “i don’t know. i’ll get over it, let’s just go.” you lift your hand and open the car door. michael follows your actions, looking at you over the car.

“promise you’d tell me if it was something serious?” he closed the door and you did the same, walking over to his side of the car. your heels had a satisfying click against the floor with each step, practicing to walk in them around your room seemed to have worked.

“you know i would. i’ve told you way too many things, what’s the point in keeping secrets?”

secrets. there’s just one thing you haven’t told him about yourself and that’s something you don’t plan on telling him for awhile, or maybe as far as never. you can’t ruin what you’ve started with him, it can only end as two friends who are way too close for just over a month of knowing and understanding.

“you say that.” he replied. your heart dropped to your stomach but a gentle hand slid around your back, settling at your lower back and he guided you to stand closer. his arm snaked around your shoulders, his large hand holding the side of your head against his chest.

“we’re already late, mike.” you complain, but you don’t bother to make a singular physical protest. you can only relax against him more, his heartbeat against your left ear, the hand on your back that slid lower than you’d expected.

his cheek came to rest atop your head, “they can wait, need to make sure you’re okay first.” his hand that held your head moved to pull your hair to one side, pulling back just enough to look at you.

“i told you. i’m okay.” you laugh and his hand came to pat your waist. you step back from him and he offers you his hand, which you take without hesitation.

he leads you towards the restaurant, hand holding yours with a tight but comforting grip. “remember what i said? we’re out of there the second you wanna leave.” he looked down at you, watching as you nodded. “good.” he squeezed your hand.

michael helped you up the stairs, going by your pace. he pushed the front door to the restaurant open and you were both greeted by a waitress.

“hello! how can we help you today?” the kind woman asked, a bright smile on her face. probably way too bright for someone working in such a miserable environment.

“we’re here for a family dinner. we’ve been told the table number is 19.” michael spoke for the both of you and the waitress grabbed two menus then signalled for you to follow her while she took you to the table. she turned a corner and there was your entire family. sat. expectant.

your mum stood up first, walking over to give you a hug while she cheered “y/n!”. michael let go of your hand while you hugged her back. when she pulled away she gave michael a one-over. “and this is?” she asked, unable to hide the judgemental tone.

“i’m michael. it’s nice to meet you.” he put his hand out, offering a handshake. surprisingly, she actually accepted his hand and gave it one solid shake before letting go.

“nice to meet you, michael.” she didn’t even introduce herself. “do you do anything outside of school?” she wondered. “—actually, let’s take this to the table.” your mum walked off, her perfume leaving a lingering scent on the nose. she sat down, waiting for you both to sit in the booth infront of her.

once you did, she leaned in, ready for michael to tell her what he’d spend his weekends doing. he couldn’t tell her about the parties, would you want him to tell her about the parties? he’s realising there wasn’t much background on this dinner.

“i have a band, so we tend to play a few shows on the side for a couple of weekends.” he told her.

“where do you play?” she pushed.

“bars at the minute, we don’t have the money to book venues right now but we’ll get there one day—“

“don’t hog them!” someone yelled from the top of the table, sounded like an elderly woman. most likely your grandma. your mum just ignored her, a frown on her face as she wouldn’t tear her eyes off michael.

“are you the reason my daughter thought it was okay to start inviting herself to house parties?” she asked quietly, an evil tone coating her question.

“no ma’am.” michael stated, his fingers brushing against your leg.

that frown on her face didn’t falter. “then who is?”

he knew the answer, but he couldn’t just say ‘you’ right to her face, could he?

“can we not do this now, please?” you butt in, your voice more high-pitched than it usually is. michael noticed, his hand slides up your thigh.

“we’re doing this now, y/n. you leave early after coming home for the weekend, you barely spoke to either me or your dad the entire time and you expect me not to be concerned.” her voice raised a little. “why do you think it’s acceptable?”

you pushed down your emotions, a lump forming in your throat and you haven’t even been sat here for more than five minutes. you knew this dinner would wreck you.

“i don’t.” you squeak out. michael’s hand slid to the inside of your thigh, not sexual. just there. comforting. why has nobody spoken up against this woman’s horrible behaviour? that’s all that ran michael’s mind.

“you’re unbelievable.” your mum shook her head. “then why did you think it was smart to go to multiple parties when you knew i was, still am, positive i didn’t want you attending?”

“i don’t know.”

“but you do.” that frown somehow deepened.

“i don’t want to tell you.” the words barely came out of your mouth, voice dying in your throat. tears welled at your waterline. she couldn’t see you cry over something so stupid, neither could michael, nobody could.

“really?” she tilted her head, a mocking look on her face. “that’s how you want to go around it?”

“i’m going to the bathroom.” you announce, sliding out of the booth and storming off to find a quieter place. you hadn’t even thought about leaving michael alone with your family. he wouldn’t let your mother eat him alive though, that’s one thing.

michael shook his head at your mum, grabbing your purse and sliding out of the booth. he stood at the end of the table, right beside your mum.

“why do you think it’s acceptable?” he reused her words right back at her. “that’s your daughter.” he reminded her before walking away, taking the same route you did, which was not to the bathroom. the outside air hit him like a punch, but you’re his main concern.

he found you sat on the bottom step and he rushed to kneel infront of you. “hey …” he mumbled, the volume of his voice lowering. the bottom of your palms dug into your eyes, trying to stop yourself from crying but even that wouldn’t work.

“it’s just me.” his hands slid up your wrist, holding them.

“that’s the problem.” you sob.

“what?”

“i’m so embarrassed.” the noises escaping you were unexplainable, but he understood. he managed to lower your hands from your eyes, holding them in a ball shape between his.

“never known you to be embarrassed infront of me.” he let go of your hands, tilting your chin up with his finger.

“that was just something else. god, i’m so sorry.” you can’t even look at him. tears uncontrollably streamed down your face, leaving a salty seasoning on your lips when your tongue darted out to wet them.

“what are you sorry for? that wasn’t your fault.” michael couldn’t help but feel confused.

“i’m really sorry for even bringing you into this. i shouldn’t have. it wasn’t your problem to fix.” you cry out to him while he just listens, he grabbed your hand and stood up, tugging your arm to make you stand up with him.

the hug he captured you in blocked out all of the noise around you. you just fell into him, dampening his shirt with your tears while you struggled to find it in you to think about that.

“i wanted to help you. i didn’t do this for no reason, y/n.” he told you.

“it’s just hard to believe.” you wipe underneath your eyes, mascara smudged everywhere.

“why is that hard to believe? i haven’t left your side for the past month. do you think that means nothing?”

“i don’t understand why you even care.”

“you don’t— jesus christ.” he huffed. his hands cupped your shoulders and he forced you to take a step back in order to get a better view of you. your head dipped, trying to hide your face from him. “don’t do that, you’re beautiful.” he whispered, tilting your head back up with his finger again.

“i care because you trusted me so much that night when you told me everything. you wouldn’t even believe me if i told you how fast i caught feelings—“ he shut himself up, both of your eyes widening. you just stared at eachother for a moment.

“you caught feelings?” you asked, needing confirmation.

“it wasn’t supposed to come out like that.” he looked shocked at himself.

“yes or no, michael?” you still push for confirmation.

“yes.” he sighed, the eye contact between you hasn’t been broken. not even once, despite the awkward situation you both have going for you right now. “can you say something?” he practically whined.

“me too.” you blurted out. the tears have definitely come to a halt, that’s for sure.

michael’s signature grin spread across his face once again, his hands grabbing your hips and pulling them flush against his. he leaned in close, his lips ghosting yours.

“i’m not about to be your first kiss, am i?” he teased.

“no, shut up.” you returned.

“i was kidding, babe.” he chuckled before catching your lips in a kiss, not wasting time. your hands held his face while he took complete control over you, his fingers digging into your sides like he’s trying to pull you closer if that was even possible.

months later, the honeymoon phase still remains. you both still know nothing about charlotte and luke’s relationship despite them both being your best friends. you’re left with the crumbs that they give you, which is them telling either of you where they’re going for breakfast, lunch or dinner.

you grab a drink from the bar, charlotte in her own world as she danced around to the rock music coming from the stage infront of her. your boyfriend’s electric guitar filled the whole room, sweat gathering at his forehead and his red hair a tousled mess.

you walk back to your previous spot with a refilled vodka cranberry. charlotte’s drunk state tried to get you involved with her jumping but if you did that you’d be swimming in your own drink. “let’s calm down, honey, you’re gonna collapse.” you warn her, grabbing her hand to settle her down.

“luke’s voice is so good.” she told you, gripping onto your hand like a lifeline.

“you like it?” you raised an eyebrow. charlotte couldn’t look away from the stage, her eyes not leaving the singer.

“love.” she corrected you, watching as they wrapped up their set. michael’s guitar sounded through the bar, creating a screeching sound. you look up at the stage to see him staring at you with a big smile. “he did that on purpose.” charlotte noted.

“okay, let’s get you backstage.” you interlock arms with her and rush through the crowds and tables, finding your way to the door that leads backstage. charlotte’s instantly letting go of you, running off to go and find luke.

a quiet radio station fills the silence in michael’s little area, you lean against the doorframe without him knowing you’re there. his arms flex as he places his guitar down carefully, when he straightens himself up his eyes land on you.

“there you are.” his face lightened up, walking over to you. he squatted down a little, his forearm resting underneath your ass, scooping you up in a swift movement which earned a squeal from you. your legs wrap around his hips, hands holding onto his exposed shoulders.

he moved his hands to a more comfortable position, his right holding an ass cheek and his left supporting your posture by placing it in the centre of your back between your shoulder blades.

“charlotte admitted to loving luke’s voice earlier.” you told michael. the gossip was much needed, you’ve been feeding off crumbs with them two recently. “i like when she’s drunk, she spills more.” you say.

“we all love luke’s voice, that’s not surprising, y/n.” he squeezed your backside through your short black dress. “you look fuckin’ gorgeous, by the way.” he looked up at you with a lovesick expression.

“go back to my place?” he proposed blatantly, letting you unwrap your legs from around his body and allowing you to slide down against him.

“yeah. let me hand the key to charlotte.” you replied, rooting through your purse for your key. “one second.” you mumble, walking off to luke’s side of the place. you knock on the wall, looking around the corner to see charlotte pressed up against luke on the couch, practically falling asleep on his shoulder.

“ahem.” you cough, as much as you hated to interrupt the moment, you also want to settle down on michael’s couch as quick as possible. “luke, can you keep hold of the dorm key for charlotte? she’ll probably be home before me.” you ask and he nods, catching the pair of keys when you threw it towards him.

“goodnight!” you winked at him, making your way back to michael.

“she’s basically asleep on him!” you whisper-yelled to michael, grabbing his biceps for stability as you jumped up and down in celebration. “i knew it, they’re so cute.” you pouted.

“we’ve been saying this for months, i knew it’d happen.” michael steadied you by grabbing your waist. “are you finishing that drink or should we leave it?” he asked.

“just leave it. i wasn’t really in the mood for drinking anyway.” you shrug, grabbing his arm and leading him to the exit. the rest of this night is guaranteed to be spent on michael’s couch, a film playing that neither of you had any intentions on watching. a blanket pulled over you both as sleep caught up with you.

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"Don't look so worried, kid," Daniel had grinned, his teeth blindingly white in the desert sun. "I’ve decided you’re a Ricciardo now. It’s in the fine print of your contract. Welcome to the family."

It didn't take long for the paddock to realize that the two of you weren't just joking. The dynamic was instant and chaotic.

During a particularly grueling media session after a tough qualifying, a reporter asked a back-to-back series of questions that had you stumbling. Suddenly, Daniel appeared behind you, leaning into your microphone.

"Sorry, she can’t answer that. Her brain is currently fried from all the G-forces. Also, she’s grounded for forgetting to text me back yesterday."

"I'm twenty-one, Daniel. You can't ground a teammate from a different team."

"Watch me. Brotherly authority triumphs over FIA regulations, Y/N. Move it along, Pete!"

You were trying to take a pre-race nap in your driver room when the door flew open without a knock. You didn't even have to open your eyes to know who it was.

"Sister! I require snacks and your professional opinion on my helmet design," Daniel announced, flopping onto the small sofa and kicking his shoes off.

"Daniel, go away. I have a race in two hours," you groaned into your pillow.

"Exactly! Energy management! I’m managing your energy by making sure you aren't bored," he countered, already peeling an orange he’d definitely stolen from your team's catering. "Now, do we like the neon pink or the extra neon pink?"

Despite the constant teasing and the way he’d pull your cap down over your eyes every time he passed you in the paddock, Daniel was the first person at your garage after your first points finish.

He didn't care about the cameras or the "driver rivalry" narrative. He pushed through the mechanics, grabbed you in a massive bear hug, and lifted you off the ground.

"That’s my sister!" he shouted to anyone who would listen. "Did you see that overtake into Turn 4? Pure Ricciardo DNA right there!"

Later that night, when the adrenaline had faded and you were feeling the weight of the season's pressure, he sat with you on the steps of the motorhome. He wasn't the "Honey Badger" then—just Dan.

"You're doing great, Y/N," he said softly, bumping his shoulder against yours. "Seriously. If it ever gets too loud, or the pressure feels like it’s squashing you, you come find me. I don't care if I'm in a meeting or in the middle of a debrief. Big brothers don't let their sisters drown."

You leaned your head on his shoulder, finally feeling like you belonged in this world of 200mph cars. "Thanks, Dan. Even if you are the most annoying person on the grid."

"Hey!" he laughed, nudging you. "That's Honorary Most Annoying Person to you."

By the time the European leg of the season rolled around, it was official.

"Copy, Y/N. Daniel is behind you on the hards, he's your brother, so he says he's not going to dive-bomb you... but he's smiling, so be careful."

You’d be walking toward the garage and hear a distant, "EY! SIS!" and you’d instinctively raise a hand in a wave without even looking back.

It wasn't just a PR stunt; it was the support system you needed. He taught you how to handle the vultures, how to save your tires, and most importantly, how to never take the circus too seriously.

You were the rookie driver everyone was watching, but to Daniel, you were just the kid sister he had to look out for—mostly to make sure you didn't trip over your own feet while walking to the podium.

The "Ricciardo Adoption" didn't just stay within the paddock walls; it bled into the summer break and onto social media, where fans started referring to you as the "Ricciardo Duo" more often than your actual team names.

By the time the circus arrived in Spa, the sibling energy had reached critical levels.

It started when a video went viral of you laughing with another driver—let’s say, a certain charming Spaniard—near the hospitality units. That afternoon, Daniel was waiting for you in your garage, leaning against your spare front wing with a very serious expression.

"I saw the footage, Y/N. The hair-flip? The laughing at his jokes? Unacceptable behavior."

"Dan, he was telling me about his golf game. It was barely a conversation."

"As your self-appointed older brother, I have to vet all potential suitors. Currently, he’s at a 'No' because his neck is too thick. It’s intimidating. I need someone more... scrawny. Like a Lando. Or a pole."

"You’re literally insane. Get out of my garage before my engineers make you leave."

"I’m staying until you admit he’s a 'No'. I’m protecting the family brand!"

Humor was the baseline, but the "soft" side of the adoption came through when things went wrong. During a rainy practice session in Zandvoort, you lost the rear and went nose-first into the barriers. It wasn't a massive hit, but it was your first real crunch in an F1 car.

By the time you got back to the paddock, shaken and frustrated with yourself, Daniel was already standing outside your motorhome. He didn't say a word; he just held out a bag of your favorite gummy bears and waited.

"I'm fine, Dan," you muttered, looking at the ground. "I just feel like an idiot."

"Standard procedure for a rookie," he said, his voice unusually quiet and steady. He hooked an arm around your neck, pulling you into a half-hug. "If you don't bin it at least once, you aren't trying hard enough. Plus, look on the bright side—I’ve binned it in way more expensive ways than that. You’re still an amateur at crashing compared to me."

He stayed with you through your debrief, sitting in the corner of the room and making ridiculous faces at you every time you started to look too stressed, until you finally cracked a smile.

For the final race of the season, Daniel surprised you. Usually, drivers swap helmets with rivals they respect. Daniel marched into your room with his bright, chaotic helmet held out like a trophy.

"Alright, Sis. This is a big moment. The legend himself is offering you his lid."

You laughed, pulling your own helmet out of its bag. "I’m honored, truly. But you know this means you have to display mine in your house, right?"

"Front and center," he promised, his grin softening into something genuinely proud. He pulled a marker out and scribbled on the visor of the helmet he was giving you: "TO THE BEST LIL SIS IN F1. TRY NOT TO BE FASTER THAN ME NEXT YEAR."

You wrote on yours: "TO MY ANNOYING BIG BROTHER. THANKS FOR NOT LETTING ME QUIT."

Post-season, while other drivers headed to Ibiza or Dubai, you found yourself at a quiet dinner in Monaco with Daniel and a few of his closest friends. At one point, the waiter asked how you two were related, seeing the constant bickering and the similar way you both used your hands when you talked.

"She's my sister," Daniel said immediately, no hint of a joke in his voice. "Found her in a paddock, decided she didn't have enough chaos in her life, and kept her."

You rolled your eyes, reaching over to steal a fry off his plate. "He's the brother I never wanted, but I guess I'm stuck with him now for the tax benefits."

"Hey! Don't talk about your elders like that," he laughed, but he didn't pull the plate away. In fact, he pushed the whole basket of fries toward you. "Eat up, kid. You've got a long career ahead of you, and I’ve gotta make sure you’re fed for it."

In the high-pressure, lonely world of Formula 1, you hadn't just found a mentor—you’d found a home.

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