Imagines and One-Shots (Book Two)

Trust Fund Kids (Michael Clifford)

well. this is in the universe now.

plus my baby boy's birthday is tomorrow (as we all know) so obviously i had to write a michael thing in honor of it

~

It was just another Wednesday night – you were tidying up the messy shelves of clothing in the store you worked at, eager for closing time. You worked nearly every night with little pay to show for it, but you loved your job and the people you worked with more than anything.

You could be living the high life – your father owned one of the biggest companies Sydney had ever seen – but you walked away from it all the moment you turned 18. Your mother was no longer in the picture, having left when you were only 7, so it had always just been you and your dad.

But now, it was just you.

Your father... Well, to be honest, he wasn't a very good one.

You often found yourself eating dinner alone, figuring out your homework for yourself, and reading yourself bedtime stories since the day your mom left. At first, you didn't understand why she did it, but as you got older, it became more and more clear. Your dad was always more concerned with work and the company than he was with you, and you finally realized the day you left why your mother had done the same.

10 minutes before the end of your shift, you found yourself sighing when you heard the bell above the door ring, signaling someone had entered. But you put on a smile and turned toward the person who came in.

"Hello!" you greeted them cheerfully, "Is there anything I can help you with this evening?"

"Yes, actually," the blonde boy nodded, coming over to you, "I have this thing I have to go to tomorrow and I need a nice shirt, but like, not one that says 'I really want to be here right now', you know?"

"Oh, absolutely," you replied, "We actually just set up that section today." The boy rolled his eyes with a smile as you led him to a shelf of shirts in the men's section of the store. "These are probably your best bet," you told him, "They're comfortable, but they're still nice enough to get away with wearing them to formal events."

"It's the pocket, isn't it?" he asked, taking a white shirt from the top of the pile and holding it in front of him.

"It's always the pocket," you shrugged.

"Do you have any of these ones in a medium?" he asked hopefully.

"We should," you nodded, leaning over and flicking through the clothing. You finally found a medium, carefully pulling it out from the pile and putting the other shirts back.

"Thank you," the boy sighed in relief, then smiled shyly, "I'm really sorry I messed this one up. I'd try to put it back, but I've never been good at folding clothes."

"It's okay," you laughed, "I just appreciate the fact that you would have tried." You switched shirts with him, beginning to fold the one in your hands back up.

"Y/L/N!" you heard your manager holler. You looked over your shoulder at her. "Can you close by yourself tonight? I have dinner with my wife's family and I won't be on time if I stay any later than right now."

"Yeah, Meg!" you called back, "Have fun!"

"Thanks, Y/N," she sighed in relief, "You're a life saver. I'll see you tomorrow!" You caught the keys when she threw them to you before she hurried out the door and you got back to work.

"Y/L/N?" the boy beside you tilted his head, "Are you related to-" And it was in that moment that your heart dropped.

"Yes," you murmured, turning around and moving on to fold clothes on the next display.