Michaels POV

Michael sat on the edge of the bed, his laptop setting on his lap. He scrolled through the tweets directed to him on twitter. Although there were many tweets from fans telling him that they loved him, he only noticed the ones full of hatred towards him. Ugly. Fat. Scary. Horrible singer. He started believing the words he was reading. He felt tears threatening to fall from his eyes. He tried desperately to hold them back. Though he wanted to log out of his Twitter, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Part of him wanted to read what everyone thought of him. Michael clicked over to a new tab, going onto their Facebook page. More hate was hitting him in the chest like someone was throwing bricks at him. After another 10 minutes of reading the various harmful words, the tears begun falling from his eyes and trickling slowly down his cheeks. He forced himself to close the laptop and stood up. He began pacing back and forth, his hands in his hair, sobs escaping his lips and a feeling of heaviness in his stomach. Michael walked blindly into the bathroom where he stopped in front of the mirror, examining himself. “They’re right. I am ugly.” He moved his fingers across his face, then down to his stomach, growing even more insecure about himself the longer he looked. The tears were falling from his eyes, resembling a waterfall. His nose was red from sniffling, and he had begun shaking. He sunk down onto the ground and curled up into a ball, starting at the wall. Through his heavy cries, he didn’t hear you open the front door and walk into the apartment the two of you were sharing.

Your point of View

Finally, you’d arrived back home from work. In your right hand you carried your bag of groceries. You had planned to make dinner for you and Michael tonight, and were going upstairs to surprise him with his favorite food. When you opened the door to the apartment, the first thing you heard was muffled sobs. Confused and worried, you quickly thrust off your shoes and sat the groceries on the table. You followed the sad sound to the bathroom, where Michael lay curled up in a ball, his hand covering his mouth. He was facing the wall and must not of heard you come in. Tip-toeing behind him, you sat beside him, gently laying your hand on his shoulder. Michael jumped slightly and turned to face you. He must have been embarrassed because he quickly wiped the tears from his stained cheeks. You wrapped him up in a hug, letting him bury his head in your shoulder. “Michael, what’s wrong?” He pulled away to face you, tears coming down his cheeks again. “They hate me, (Y/N).” He barely managed to get these words out before hiccupping. “Who hates you?” “The fans… But they’re right.” Michael pointed through the doorway and over to the bed where his laptop lied. “You can see for yourself.” “No, Michael. Fans don’t hate you. They’re not a fan if they hate you. I know nothing they say is true, Michael.” You tried desperately to comfort, kissing his forehead and rubbing small circles on his back. “But it is, (Y/N). I am ugly, fat, and scary.” Michael looked you deep in the eyes with a hurt expression on his face. “It really hurts knowing I’m the least favorite in the band.” You hugged him even tighter now. How could anyone think those things about this amazing boy? He wasn’t any of those things, and now he believed it. “Michael, listen to me. And listen closely. You’re not ugly. You’re the most handsome boy I’ve ever laid my eyes on. You know, that feeling that you get when you see someone really cute for the first time? I get that every time I looked at you, and we’ve been dating for almost a year now. Now, you’re definitely not fat, and you know very well that you’re not. And for scary, that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Unless you’re scared of a little puppy, then you wouldn’t look scary at all. I love you. Everyone has little flaws, but no one has the right to point them out to the world. Don’t listen to them Michael, they’re wrong.” You grab his face gently and kissed him, your lips fitting perfectly with his. You felt the heaving of his body from his sobs slow. When you pulled away and looked into his eyes, you knew every word you had just said were true. He was amazing. “Thank you, (Y/N). I love you so much. More than you could ever imagine. I really needed that.” He pecked your lips and stood up, offering you his hand. From that day on, you left hi notes reminding him how amazing he was lying on the inside of his laptop, so when he opened it, he would read them. Michael never had anymore breakdowns due to hate because of that simple act.

Notes