WARNING: THIS MIGHT GIVE YOU BRAIN DAMAGE.. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

You lightly started to tug on your black skirt. You didn't want to wear such uncomfortable clothes but your parents insisted. Your parents were taking you to some meeting with them since they couldn't bear to leave you alone at your falling apart home.

"C'mon, (Y/N), walk faster." Your dad ordered.

You kept your head low and mumbled a "Yes, daddy."

Silently, you kept walking to your parent's destination when you heard a distant guitar playing. Your parents were talking to some lady selling clothing, so they weren't paying attention to you.

My parents would kill me if I ran off, you thought, but it wouldn't hurt to take a quick peek.

You run around the building corner and following the guitar strumming. You soon found the source. It was a young raven-haired boy. You watch him from behind the corner. He doesn't notice your presence until he messes up. He looks around to see if anyone heard him, then he notices your face.

"Hi." You say. The boy looks down at his guitar, obviously embarrassed. "What's your name?" You sit next to him and slightly smile.

"Michael." He shyly says.

"Hi, Michael! I'm (Y/N). I think you play amazing. Ya know, I've always wanted to learn guitar. Could you teach me?" You said, hoping if he said yes you could get to know him better. You thought he was so adorable and wondered what it would be like if he was your boyfriend, or husband.

Michael gripped his guitar tightly, scared to let it go. He soon, eventually, passed it you.

After a couple of minutes, you already learned your first three notes. You could hear your name being called from your parents in the distant. They noticed you weren't by their side.

"Michael," you stuttered, "I gotta head back."

You were worried what would happen if you didn't go to them. How hard your father's beatings would be. How bloddy it would be... You shiver at the thought.

You stand up and brush your skirt. Michael watches you, obviously realizing you were scared. You turn and hug him.

"Please, take me away from them." You cry.

"Okay." Michael simply says. Either he was nervous around you, or he doesn't talk a lot. You hope it was the first one, as you liked him hoping he likes you too. He takes your hand in his right, his guitar in his left, and leads you to his home.

You suppose this is the start of what they call young love.