In a perfect world:

1. mgc

It was a fall evening. Your favorite season and weather. The sun was setting along the sky, in a beautiful way. The colors of Peach and Orange mixing delicately. As if it were a masterpiece drawn specially by the gods above.

The breeze ran past you, lightly lifting the ends of your hair. Although your hair was kept under a knitted beanie, and you torso was concealed by an old hoodie; you had no chance against the cool evening.

As you walk along the trail of crunching leaves and wet pavement, you look to your best friend of 10 years, Michael. His hair a fading color of red, messily tucked under a backwards SnapBack. Sweater paws and all, even in this weather, he still wore nothing but black jeans, sneakers, and a light sweater. How does he do it? Perhaps his insides are warm enough to emit body heat for both himself and you when in need.

Nonetheless, he pulled it off.

Continuing on, you guys are walking, arms and hands skimming the others every other second. You would quietly laugh and think to yourselves if someone was going to make a move. It would always be him of course. Anxiety and insecurity taking over most of the time.

He looks up at you all of the sudden. That stupid smile. That smile that would always send a trampeed off in your insides. Those eyes that can do unexplainable things to you just by one gaze.

That smile.

That gentle smile that you've grown to love and dream about when days were bad.

That smile could make or break you.

You were in love with your best friend no doubt. Hopelessly in love. You couldn't contain yourself any longer. You've constantly wished that you were someone else. Someone else who could easily come out and say what you were feeling. Or better yet, show what you were feeling.

But him being the beautiful, stupid, and dorky idiot; it was hard. He was soft on the outside, but intimidating in a way.

Oh no.

He's caught you staring. Yet again.

What do you do now?

Unspoken words. Unspoken thoughts. Unspoken feelings. They were left in the air. The cold, and brisk air.

God, do you love him.

"Y/n?" He softly breaks you from your rambling thoughts.

"Hmm." You timidly lock gazes, his pale yet stunning eyes burn into your soul.

"What the hell are you thinking about?" His hand leads to just above your elbow, softly pulling you towards him.

Your breath hitches, this isn't the first time he's done this. But this time, this time it's leading to something. You can feel it.

Just then, you become aware of his searing touch on your clothed arm. Can he feel your skin burning?

"I'm just... Nothing it's dumb." You shake your head, embarrassed.

He sets his unoccupied hand underneath your chin, leading his other hand to move a strand of hair the air tried to claim. His hand on your chin, slowly but carefully moves to cup your cheek. His hand covering your warming skin, even though it's freezing.

"I... Y/n?" He unsurely asks. As if you guys were on the phone, and you had fallen asleep like you had many times; making sure you weren't ignoring him.

"I'm here." You've said this before. Whether it be on the phone, or if he were scared you'd been lost to him.

He moves forward towards yours, both hands cupping your cheeks. You can feel his warm breath spread over your face. You both close you eyes. Just reveling in the warmth of each other.

Can he feel your pulse quickening?

"Can I keep you?" He softly says, as if you were kids again telling secrets to each other.

"You already have me. You've always had me. Since the day you stopped that kid in the first grade from spilling milk all over me. You've had me since then, and you'll always have me. Whether or not you're aware of it." You rush that entire confession, as if you weren't to say it quick, he'd be gone and never to hear your confession.

"I don't think you know what I mean y/n." He stops to inhale a shuddering breath.

"I.... I think I'm in love with you. No! I mean. I'm in love with you. I know I am. Because I can't help but feel safe and calm with you. I can't help but giggle at your lame jokes. I can't help but smile all the time around you. And I can't help but dream of your smile, that smile that could make me and possibly break me. And... I love you." He rushes out the words like if it were recited before. Maybe he has done so, but it doesn't matter. He did it. He finally said what you've only dreamed of.

He made the first move again.

And you couldn't be more grateful.

It's been quiet for a while now. Not knowing whether to cry or confess your love back. You're still debating if this is a dream.

The only way you know how to respond is by leaning up on your toes and, finally, kissing the lips you've dreamed of.

They're soft, just like you've imagined. Small, but perfect. The kiss holds so much meaning. You've never liked the idea of kissing, transmitting DNA is what it should've been called.

You're brought back to reality when you feel his lips turn into a smile. Yours follows quickly behind.

Relief.

Relief in finally getting to confess your true emotions. Relief in finally having someone to help you through your gloomy days. Relief in finally having what you've wanted. Only good can come from this.

After the short but meaningful kiss, you lean back. Still entwined with one another. You bite your lip and say:

"Michael Clifford. You have always had my love."

Okay. But this is crappy and I literally gag. However, I nearly fainted writing this. Hopefully no one reads this. xx