𝘚𝘜𝘗𝘌𝘙𝘚𝘛𝘈𝘙 .•* 𝘔𝘐𝘊𝘏𝘈𝘌𝘓 𝘈𝘍𝘛𝘖𝘕

ＮＩＧＨＴ ＳＩＸ

Superstar

1991

Michael's eyes lit up brighter than the sun the moment you walked into the room to greet him.  He was bandaged well and had at some point lost his wig, but there he was.  Your Michael.

"I missed you," you breathed, stepping over to his bed to kiss him gently on the cheek. 

"I'm sorry," Michael said sheepishly, reaching for your hand. "I'm two for two, aren't I?"

"Don't apologize. You're alive. I couldn't ask for anything more."

He looked... different. More human, like the life really was coming back into him. He still his purple hue, and more cuts and bruises than you could count, but it seemed like that fire had healed him more than it hurt.

That night, after Michael had been given the all-clear to go home, he held you so tight. He watched TV with you in the afternoon and made dinner and danced with you in the kitchen during the evening. The minute the two of you laid down to go to bed, he pulled you against him (making sure not to disturb your injury) and wrapped his arms strong around you. You gripped him tightly, digging your hands into his back as best as you could, trying to diminish the space between you.

Your legs intertwined in the same ways you wished your souls would.  He still smelled of ash and burning wood, despite how well he washed, but you could smell his usual scent mixed within.  You craved him in the most innocent way - his presence, his life, his love.

He whispered sweet nothings to you that whole night. How much he loved you, how much he needed you, how lucky he was to call you his. You were able to push every worry you'd had out of your head that night, just to let yourself bask in it.  You wished there were words enough to describe what you felt about him.

Instead, you opted for words you did know.  You snuggled further into him as best as you could and muttered, "You are the best thing to ever happen to me."

It was only ten words, but it was enough.

Safe in his arms, there were no night terrors.  If you could make any wish, it would be to never feel him let go.

1992

A few months later, you and Michael eloped and took a day all to yourselves.  You couldn't visit anywhere too fancy, but you took a little road trip to 4 Corners and shared a kiss on the landmark.

You got a few weird looks (largely directed toward Michael, who wore sunglasses and a bandana for the majority of your excursion) but you didn't mind.  It wasn't the end of the world, and as seen as you felt, you knew the excitement of it all would override any embarrassment in your memories.

Over time, Michael really had been healing.  You had no concept of remnant, and Michael knew only a little more than you, but something about releasing the souls of all the other children made the soul remaining in Michael stronger.  Seeing him look a little brighter every day was all the encouragement you needed.

Your neighbors took notice of it, too.  Mr. Seton even complimented Michael on his 'recovery', probably just excited he had one less anomaly to worry about. He was still visibly purple, and you were pretty sure his skin was going to be drier and more sensitive forever, but his gaping wounds and scars had entirely healed. All but his burns. Even his eyes had taken a slightly bluer tone, dimming the vibrant purple.