31 - mike rutherford

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For rutherford-squire ! I hope I did Mike justice for you, dear! Before I start, note that this imagine features a female S/O specifically.
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The first weeks of spring were spent in relative peace. You enjoyed spending your hours outside in the garden or reading a book on the fanciful yellow iron swing that Mike had bought for you. Having hobbies outside of work and waiting for Mike to come home from tour or the studio helped quell your raging thoughts. Whenever Mike was home, he managed to make everything easier. Happier. Full of life and joy and the pure epitome of springtime.

But it was already almost April and the birds were singing and the air was fresh and clean with spring showers... and Mike was away in some far off country in Europe. His absence cut a jagged hole right through you and the only thing that could fill it was Mike. You knew that if he was here with you, he would have held you close with his lanky arms until you could memorize each detail of his face and have already forgotten the times you were apart.

You weren't always so needy, but you and Mike had been together since you were teenagers. Before Genesis, Mike never went off on extended trips so far away. There were times when the boys took a stand and brought their partners along with them for the lonely journey, and you had been given a taste of what Mike felt thousands of miles away from home. But this time, there simply wasn't enough funds or room to house four extra people along with their regular entourage and staff.

Mike had left you with a long kiss, promising that he'd call you as soon as they landed and that he would miss you terribly. That he wished he could take you with him. You didn't want to worsen his already sinking self-esteem, so you were quick to reassure him with a soft smile and plenty of I love yous to hold him over for the weeks that you would be apart.

True to his promise, Mike rang you as often as he could and kept you updated on their adventures in foreign restaurants and shops. He'd happily informed you of a present he'd bought at a high-end store in Denmark that would have to remain a secret until he came home. If you were being honest, you didn't care if Mike brought home an orange so long as he was back with you again. But he obviously felt horrible leaving you. You recognized it in the hurried way he tried to please you, even over the phone.

Mike wanted to do better for you.

He had let that humiliating detail slip during an impromptu meal that he'd painstakingly prepared for you, wine-drunk and clutching your hand across the table like a lifeline. Once Mike had said it, he couldn't take it back, no matter how much he rushed to rectify the sentence. You had understood immediately and it was out in the open for you both to handle cautiously – like the landmine that it was.

All you could do without bringing up Mike's issue was to offer him constant love and affection, which seemed to help. But his European tour threatened to demolish all of the work you'd spent trying to build Mike up. You hoped that when Mike would return, you could offer a more upbeat mood, one that wouldn't convince him of his unworthiness as a husband.

In order to do that, you had to keep yourself thinking positive and bright no matter how many nights you laid awake in an empty bed, staring at the pictures on the walls with a nostalgic sort of longing. With Mike's frequent phone calls and postcards, you were doing better. There was more for you to give to him when you were in a good mood.

But as fate would have it, you had started your period on the eve of Mike's return home. Any positive attitude that you had worked to achieve – if only for Mike's sake – had come crumbling down in an instant. All at once, you felt terribly depressed, sending yourself into a weeping fit at the sight of one of Mike's old shirts. The sadness had then almost immediately spiraled into a fit of rage that sent you outside to passive aggressively pull weeds out of your flower patch so that you wouldn't break something inside.

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