Stories I Never Finished

Miss Jackson

Michael is a little bit of a fixer-upper.
He's a day time gamer, night time wanderer, with sarcastically dark humoured jokes and a way with words that can make even the sweetest compliment sound like the dirtiest insult. He's rash, does and says things without taking the time to think of what could happen afterwards.
Well... usually what happens after most things he says is sex with Ashton.

One time he tried complimenting Ashton's eyeliner and ended up making some sort of connection to a raccoon. He thought Ashton was about ready to punch him, but he'd ended up pinned to the wall and moaning in pleasure.

Ashton really liked Michael's compliments it seemed.

Ashton is pretty much an out-cast, but weirdly enough Michael can't understand why. The man may be bordering on too much goth, but he was sweet and kind and always seemed to understand exactly what Michael was trying to say.
He listened to weird music, and by weird Michael means weird. Ashton had to be the only person he knew that listened to Irish and Scandinavian heavy metal.

But he was also the only person who knew how to make the prettiest of flower crowns. Michael usually couldn't go an entire day without picking a bunch of flowers through his wanderings around town and excitedly taking them to Ashton and begging for a flower crown.
Michael never used the front door when visiting Ashton, he'd always climb through the bedroom window of the one storey home. He never really announced his arrivals either, usually visiting any time of day or night. He'd often shake Ashton awake at night so the twenty-year-old would move over in his own bed and cuddle him.

They got along like two peas in a pod.

Actually maybe a piece of corn and a pea? Compatable but definitely not the same.

"Ash." Michael knocked on the window, "Ashy." He knocked rapidly, "Ashy-Pie! My lil' gothy!"

Ashton rolled his eyes, standing by his CD collection and placing back the gothic metal disc before going over and opening the window.

"What?" Ashton huffed, dark eyes fixed with makeup and figure draped in heavy black shades. He placed a hand on his hip, the other still holding the sliding window pane up.

Pink bubble gum chewy peeked through Michael's teeth as the chipper boy gave a bright grin and held up a whole bunch of hand-picked flowers, "Take a wild guess."

Ashton stepped back from the window, closing it once Michael had clambered inside, "Another crown, Michael?" He boredly sat down on the end of his bed as Michael handed him the bundle of flowers.

Michael jumped and landed on his stomach onto Ashton's bed, grabbing the thick black bedsheets and rolling up into them. He snuggled into the mess he mad, huddled in the warmth of the blankets and the smell of his boyfriend.

Ashton glanced over his shoulder at him, "Really?"

A muffled "yes" came back as a response.

Ashton laid back on his bed, his head resting against the blankets on Michael's stomach, and began the process of delicately creating the flower crowns he knew his boyfriend loved and cherished.

Half way through the flower crown, Michael's muffled voice entered the soothing silence of the bedroom, "I like your makeup today."

Ashton briefly paused the crown, listening as Michael continued. The boy shuffled around and poked his head out from the blankets so he could talk clearly, "It reminds me of those Tumblr girls in the really black gothic dresses. Like they're almost too thick with the makeup and they look like tramp dolls, you know?" He paused, guilt seeping into his heart as his entire demeanor deflated, "That came out wrong... I'm sorry."

Ashton simply rolled over and kissed him, flower crown held carefully in one hand as his other hand came up to caress the side of Michael's face as gently as he could; showing he understood what the boy was trying to say.

"Thank you." He pulled away from the kiss, catching Michael's unsure green eyes staring back up at him, "I love you too."

Michael began to glow, his smile bright enough to make his eyes glisten, "You do?"

Ashton hummed, rolling over onto his back again and returning to the crown, "Let me focus."

"Oh okay." Michael grinned, whispering, "Can I tell you about my day at school?"

Ashton smiled faintly, "Sure."

He may not show it very well, but there was nothing—absolutely nothing—in the world that he could ever love more than Michael Clifford.
But Michael knew that just by the obvious detail Ashton put into every flower crown he was obsessively pestered into making.

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