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I love them
more than anything
in this world.

And it's okay if they don't know me,
I'm just happy I found them.

Haunt.
He was sitting on the edge of his seat. His finger in his mouth, nibbling away at the nail out of nervousness and habit. His lips were dry and his eyes stung. His hair was messy and his body language was weak yet full of fake dominance. 
The wind whistled passed his ears as he began to stand up, rain pelting down on his face now. He brought his hands up behind him to bring his hood up, and quickly placed his hands back into his jacket pockets. The people in the streets stared at him, of course. He was part of a band, but that night, he didn’t care about the stares, and he was happy no one came to him for some sort of autograph - he wasn’t in that kind of mood. 
The mood he was in resembled the dark, misty grey clouds as they hung over the city. His mood reflected the rain droplets flicking from the sky, to puddling on the streets or yards. His mood mimicked the rolling thunder from the distance and his temper represented the flash of lightning, mixed with the light patter of rain against rooftops and umbrellas. 
There was a reason he was so anxious, so sad, so weak. And that reason was because he’d let the one girl that ever meant anything to him walk out. And maybe it was his fault, but at the time, it didn’t matter - all that mattered was that he wanted her back. Yet, the alarming memories of the whole entire situation haunted his pretty little head. 
- a month before - 
He was strumming chords on his guitar angrily, trying to get the solo along with the chorus just right. But something seemed to be lingering on his mind that day. Everything seemed out of place, and he’d get so frustrated. His temper was on a thin line, and he didn’t know what to do about it. 
"Michael, are you gonna come eat?" 
He looked up from his session and sighed, rubbing his temples as he placed the pick down on his stand, “Yeah, (Y/n), I’ll be out in a minute.” 
"But, Ash, Calum and Luke are waiting, and I made your favourite meal. Come so it doesn’t get co-" 
"I said I’ll be down in a minute!" 
(Y/n) flinched as he raised his voice, but nodded weakly and shut the door of his studio room to occupy herself downstairs with the other boys. 
Fifteen minutes after his confrontation with (Y/n), he finally decided to set his guitar aside and go downstairs to enjoy his meal with everyone else. But what he was presented with sort of shocked him: (Y/n) was sitting alone at the dinner table while the other boys played video games or made videos or messed around on their phones. This upset Michael.
He marched over to the boys and angrily folded his hands across his chest.
"Aye, mates, look who’s ou-" 
"Why is she sitting alone?" Michael interrupted them, anger spewing from his tone.
Ashton chuckled and looked at his friend awkwardly, “What’re you talkin’ about, mate? She’s the one who wanted over there alone.” 
"She doesn’t normally," Michael muttered through greeted teeth, "I can’t believe you guys would let her sit alone like that!" 
"They’re being honest," He heard a small voice chime in behind him.
He turned around to find her crossing her arms against her chest and leaned up against the wall post.
"I told them to eat over here and then they could mess around, that you’d be down in a bit," She shrugged, "I didn’t see a problem." 
"But, they-" 
"So did you," She sighed and closed her eyes, kicking her feet at the white carpet lightly as she stood, "So do you." 
"What? (Y/n), no I don’t. I’m always with y-" 
"Not lately," (Y/n) interrupted him, "You’ve spent all of your time upstairs. You rarely ever come down to see how I am or call me while I’m at work or just tell me you love me anymore," Her voice was starting to crack; she looked at the ground, hoping to hide her sorrows - unfortunately, that wouldn’t work, "I’m starting to think you’re losing interest in us, Michael." 
Michael could feel the stares and tension from the boys behind him, but he tried not to pay any mind to it. His focus was on (Y/n). No one but her at this point.
"That’s not true. (Y/n), you know why I spend so much time up in the studio." He defended himself by placing his hands in his front pockets and looking at her sternly.
"Yes," She nodded, aware of other possibilities, "But there was one time you told me you didn’t have anything to do, so you just went up to the studio and hung out. Multiple times I suggested to watch a movie, or cuddle, but no," She threw her hands up in the air, frustrated now, "You didn’t want to." 
"I-" 
"Michael, I can’t go on in a relationship that’s just going to break. I can’t go on in a relationship that’s just fading. I can’t do this anymore." Her voice was small, but loud enough for him to hear.
Michael’s ears perked up, but his emotions fell, “(Y/n), please,” He walked to her and placed his hands in hers, “Please, don’t do this.” 
"I’m sorry." She whispered. 
- present - 
Michael’s bottom lip quivered at the memory and his body shook with anger, and sorrow. 
He knew it was his fault. It was all his fault. But, he also knew he could change things. 
He knew he could get the nightmares to stop haunting him. He just had to find her and try one more time.
* * * 
Michael found himself standing in front of her apartment door, his hand - shaking - hovering above the knob.
"It’s now or never, Michael," He whispered to himself, "You can do this." 
Instead of twisting the knob, he raised his hand up to the door knocker and wrapped it a few times. After the third, he heard footsteps padding behind the door. 
His palms grew sweaty and that nervous habit of his came out again; he started biting his bottom lip and folded his hands multiple times. He became self-conscious, wondering if he looked anymore pathetic than he did a month ago. 
The door slowly swung open and there, lying right before his very own eyes, was the girl that he’d fallen madly in love with two years ago. The girl that had given her all to him, but he’d not given his all to her; standing in a baggy sweater, yoga pants, hair up, little make up on. She looked comfortable, but sad. 
"Michael?" She whispered, her voice hoarse as if she’d screamed all night or as if she hadn’t talked for a long time, "Michael, what’re you doing here?" 
"I came to say sorry," Michael said, looking down at the ground. It hurt to look her in the eyes, but then he began to do it anyway, "I came to tell you that I’m sorry for all the times I couldn’t be there when your nightmares haunted you in your sleep, or when the monsters in your head wouldn’t go away, or when work got tough, or when you came home, or when you just needed a simple I love you," He smiled weakly at her and grabbed her small, soft hands in his and rubbed her knuckles with his thumb, "It all haunts me, and I just wanted you to know how truly sorry I am." 
(Y/n) looked at him, bewildered. This act of kindness and the beautiful apology made her happy, but confused. Michael was sweet, loving, and down to Earth way deep down in his heart - his soul. And she knew he could possess that once again if he just tried.
Maybe the monsters haunting him in his sleep had finally cracked him.
Maybe he could finally love again without separating himself from the one person that loved him no matter what. 
"It’s okay," She whispered, tears at the brim of her eyes, "It’s okay," She repeated, wrapped her arms around his neck and brought his forehead down to hers, "It’s okay." She said once more before planting a tender kiss upon his lips.
~ 
Things get haunted.
Places get haunted.
But so do the best people.

Haunt.

He was sitting on the edge of his seat. His finger in his mouth, nibbling away at the nail out of nervousness and habit. His lips were dry and his eyes stung. His hair was messy and his body language was weak yet full of fake dominance. 

The wind whistled passed his ears as he began to stand up, rain pelting down on his face now. He brought his hands up behind him to bring his hood up, and quickly placed his hands back into his jacket pockets. The people in the streets stared at him, of course. He was part of a band, but that night, he didn’t care about the stares, and he was happy no one came to him for some sort of autograph - he wasn’t in that kind of mood. 

The mood he was in resembled the dark, misty grey clouds as they hung over the city. His mood reflected the rain droplets flicking from the sky, to puddling on the streets or yards. His mood mimicked the rolling thunder from the distance and his temper represented the flash of lightning, mixed with the light patter of rain against rooftops and umbrellas. 

There was a reason he was so anxious, so sad, so weak. And that reason was because he’d let the one girl that ever meant anything to him walk out. And maybe it was his fault, but at the time, it didn’t matter - all that mattered was that he wanted her back. Yet, the alarming memories of the whole entire situation haunted his pretty little head. 

- a month before - 

He was strumming chords on his guitar angrily, trying to get the solo along with the chorus just right. But something seemed to be lingering on his mind that day. Everything seemed out of place, and he’d get so frustrated. His temper was on a thin line, and he didn’t know what to do about it. 

"Michael, are you gonna come eat?" 

He looked up from his session and sighed, rubbing his temples as he placed the pick down on his stand, “Yeah, (Y/n), I’ll be out in a minute.” 

"But, Ash, Calum and Luke are waiting, and I made your favourite meal. Come so it doesn’t get co-" 

"I said I’ll be down in a minute!" 

(Y/n) flinched as he raised his voice, but nodded weakly and shut the door of his studio room to occupy herself downstairs with the other boys. 

Fifteen minutes after his confrontation with (Y/n), he finally decided to set his guitar aside and go downstairs to enjoy his meal with everyone else. But what he was presented with sort of shocked him: (Y/n) was sitting alone at the dinner table while the other boys played video games or made videos or messed around on their phones. This upset Michael.

He marched over to the boys and angrily folded his hands across his chest.

"Aye, mates, look who’s ou-" 

"Why is she sitting alone?" Michael interrupted them, anger spewing from his tone.

Ashton chuckled and looked at his friend awkwardly, “What’re you talkin’ about, mate? She’s the one who wanted over there alone.” 

"She doesn’t normally," Michael muttered through greeted teeth, "I can’t believe you guys would let her sit alone like that!" 

"They’re being honest," He heard a small voice chime in behind him.

He turned around to find her crossing her arms against her chest and leaned up against the wall post.

"I told them to eat over here and then they could mess around, that you’d be down in a bit," She shrugged, "I didn’t see a problem." 

"But, they-" 

"So did you," She sighed and closed her eyes, kicking her feet at the white carpet lightly as she stood, "So do you." 

"What? (Y/n), no I don’t. I’m always with y-" 

"Not lately," (Y/n) interrupted him, "You’ve spent all of your time upstairs. You rarely ever come down to see how I am or call me while I’m at work or just tell me you love me anymore," Her voice was starting to crack; she looked at the ground, hoping to hide her sorrows - unfortunately, that wouldn’t work, "I’m starting to think you’re losing interest in us, Michael." 

Michael could feel the stares and tension from the boys behind him, but he tried not to pay any mind to it. His focus was on (Y/n). No one but her at this point.

"That’s not true. (Y/n), you know why I spend so much time up in the studio." He defended himself by placing his hands in his front pockets and looking at her sternly.

"Yes," She nodded, aware of other possibilities, "But there was one time you told me you didn’t have anything to do, so you just went up to the studio and hung out. Multiple times I suggested to watch a movie, or cuddle, but no," She threw her hands up in the air, frustrated now, "You didn’t want to." 

"I-" 

"Michael, I can’t go on in a relationship that’s just going to break. I can’t go on in a relationship that’s just fading. I can’t do this anymore." Her voice was small, but loud enough for him to hear.

Michael’s ears perked up, but his emotions fell, “(Y/n), please,” He walked to her and placed his hands in hers, “Please, don’t do this.” 

"I’m sorry." She whispered. 

- present - 

Michael’s bottom lip quivered at the memory and his body shook with anger, and sorrow. 

He knew it was his fault. It was all his fault. But, he also knew he could change things. 

He knew he could get the nightmares to stop haunting him. He just had to find her and try one more time.

* * * 

Michael found himself standing in front of her apartment door, his hand - shaking - hovering above the knob.

"It’s now or never, Michael," He whispered to himself, "You can do this." 

Instead of twisting the knob, he raised his hand up to the door knocker and wrapped it a few times. After the third, he heard footsteps padding behind the door. 

His palms grew sweaty and that nervous habit of his came out again; he started biting his bottom lip and folded his hands multiple times. He became self-conscious, wondering if he looked anymore pathetic than he did a month ago. 

The door slowly swung open and there, lying right before his very own eyes, was the girl that he’d fallen madly in love with two years ago. The girl that had given her all to him, but he’d not given his all to her; standing in a baggy sweater, yoga pants, hair up, little make up on. She looked comfortable, but sad. 

"Michael?" She whispered, her voice hoarse as if she’d screamed all night or as if she hadn’t talked for a long time, "Michael, what’re you doing here?" 

"I came to say sorry," Michael said, looking down at the ground. It hurt to look her in the eyes, but then he began to do it anyway, "I came to tell you that I’m sorry for all the times I couldn’t be there when your nightmares haunted you in your sleep, or when the monsters in your head wouldn’t go away, or when work got tough, or when you came home, or when you just needed a simple I love you," He smiled weakly at her and grabbed her small, soft hands in his and rubbed her knuckles with his thumb, "It all haunts me, and I just wanted you to know how truly sorry I am." 

(Y/n) looked at him, bewildered. This act of kindness and the beautiful apology made her happy, but confused. Michael was sweet, loving, and down to Earth way deep down in his heart - his soul. And she knew he could possess that once again if he just tried.

Maybe the monsters haunting him in his sleep had finally cracked him.

Maybe he could finally love again without separating himself from the one person that loved him no matter what. 

"It’s okay," She whispered, tears at the brim of her eyes, "It’s okay," She repeated, wrapped her arms around his neck and brought his forehead down to hers, "It’s okay." She said once more before planting a tender kiss upon his lips.

Things get haunted.

Places get haunted.

But so do the best people.

bessonovafan6454:

appleznbananaz:

cloudwatchingangels:

That last gif…

Jake Abel is my spirit animal.

AW RIGHT IN THE NIPPLE

*bottle shatters* “Alright, fuck this shit, I’m done”

liquatic:

oomshi:

i’m blonde, i’m skinny, i’m rich & i’m a little bit of a bitch

tbh: i see you around school sometimes but we Never talk, rate:8.9

liquatic:

oomshi:

i’m blonde, i’m skinny, i’m rich & i’m a little bit of a bitch

tbh: i see you around school sometimes but we Never talk, rate:8.9

bobbyhorin:

donnysoldier:

harry and louis better morph into each other for the video or i stg

[you and i plays softly in the distance]

image

@drewchadwickmusic: Cali nights

medicharn:

Me when i see a cute boy

image

madametoutnnoire:

bey got these muthafuckas wildin.

madametoutnnoire:

bey got these muthafuckas wildin.

quentintortellini:

basedbutts:

quentintortellini:

girl: i’m not a feminist 

me: 

image

nah actually i love myself too much to allow myself to be victimized and associated with a hate movement but thanks

image

Keaton during Can’t Hold Us, 3/5/14

stylesforstiles:

what if they have oops and hi sweaters 

letuslovelarry:

I WANNA TALK ABOUT HIS SHIRT

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