Thanatophobia| MICHAEL AFTON x READER

26| Finagle

1st person. Y/N POV.

====

I had to take the day to clean my flat since I was going to have Michael over once he got off work. Im not saying I look forward to it, but I am ready to actually speak civilly with him. At least, I hope that's what's going to happen. 

I didn't bother making dinner, at least not enough for him. I want him to come in and smell the scent coming from the kitchen, but get greatly disappointed as he comes in and sees that there is nothing for him. Just dirty dishes that I know he'll offer to do. 

I put extra cushions on the loveseat so that If I choose to sit there, he is forced to sit on the other couch. There will be no room next to me for him to sit. 

I've hidden the slushy mix because he has a strange addiction to petrol station slushy mix as if he were Jason Dean or something. Though it's better than drugs, I guess. Either way, the mix is hidden, and all of the mugs he brought into my kitchen were put up high enough to where he would need a stool to reach them. I've hidden the stool as well. 

Im not saying Im petty, I'm just...okay, yes, petty. I want him to get angry, and I want him to feel uncomfortable. I know he won't lash it out on me again, that will land his arse in the streets once more. This meeting will determine his worth in my life, and whether or not he deserves to stay in it. 

--

at 9 pm, there is a knock on the door. I had gotten slightly discouraged since I knew I only lived about ten minutes from the Pizzaria. He gets off at 8, so it shouldn't have taken him an hour to get here. 

It doesn't matter. 

I open the door, and I'm immediately hit with a putrid smell of nicotine smoke and mold...it smelled like something died. 

"Mike, my god!" I choked, covering my mouth and nose with my shirt. He looked embarrassed when I said that, seeing as he sort of shrunk back, cringing. 

"Sorry. Had a smoke on the way here...you have all of my clothes." He said softly, scratching at his neck. 

"Since when do you smoke?" I gagged unintentionally, moving out of the way so he could come in. He took his shoes off at the mudroom and left them on the small metal rack by the door. 

"Dunno, honestly. Found some today and figured I'd try one." He shrugged, taking off his vest, then his mask. He looked awful if I'm being honest. 

"Smoking is bad for you, mate." I shook my head, reluctantly taking the jacket from him. He got undressed in the hallway, giving me everything before he went into my room to change. I took the clothes to the washing machine in the kitchen. I contemplated burning them, but that wouldn't be nice. 

I expected him to be out quickly, but he was doing the decency of getting a shower before getting dressed in clean clothes. I have no idea where he got the ones he was wearing before, but by God, they smelled awful. He came back out around 9:30. He looked a lot better, and smelled decent as well...and...

"Are you wearing my perfume?" I asked, wincing as he walked by me. The smell was heavy on him. 

"No, my mums, dear." He said in a mumble, taking the old vial of perfume from his pocket. He had on his generic silk sleeping trousers and a Hot Space Queen album T-shirt.  

"Oh...smells like mine." I shrugged. 

"No, yours is move...uhhh..." He squinted his eyes...he did this when he was thinking. "Sugary smelling." He snapped his fingers. "That's it. Yours is more sugary smelling. Mum's is floral." 

"I see..." I raised my eyebrows, sitting down on the loveseat, squished between the pillows. There were none left on the big couch, but Michael didn't seem to complain when sitting down. There was an awkward silence. 

"Is that one of my shirts?" He said, pointing to the shirt I was wearing, which was an A Night at the Opera Album shirt...He owned a lot of Queen Merch, but he also owned a lot of The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, and, for some reason, ONLY things from the Ac/DC album Let There Be Rock. 

"Er...yeah. All my things were in the wash, so I just had the throw something on." I said weirdly. 

"It looks good on you, no worries." He sighed. "I like that Album, as well as News Of the World." 

"Interesting," I said cooly, leaning on my elbow, curling up in the pillows. He nodded, bouncing his right leg. He looked nervous. "Are you alright?" 

"Yea yeah" He cleared his throat. "Im really sorry about the other night. Im not sure what came over me." He said quickly. 

"Which part?" 

"All of it." His hand came up again, and he started to scratch that part of his neck again. "Im a total arsehole. I've been really on edge lately, and I was just...really really perturbed. I have been for a while." 

"I see..." I hesitated. He opened his mouth to say something, but all that came out was a sigh. I frowned. "Try to get yourself under control, mike." 

"Im trying, Y/N, seriously." He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and his face in his palms. He looked pathetic, in all honesty. "Im glad I got away last night...I had a lot of built-up, violent emotions in me, and they came out, and I am glad you weren't there for it." He sat back up. "And now, I feel sick." 

"What kind of sick?" 

He just shrugged. 

"You don't hate me, do you?" He asked softly, his voice shaking. God, it was horrid. 

"Of course not, Mike, seriously?" I shook my head. "Im glad you came. We needed to talk, you know?" He sighed heavily, his frown turning into just a slight grin as he sat back comfortably on the sofa. It relieved me to not see him so tensed up. 

"That's good." He sighed again. He was taking deep breaths. "I was worried when you didn't come into work today. I was shaking and like, pacing around, the other employees were lookin' at me funny." 

"I would have looked at you funny, Mike." I snorted. "That sounds ridiculous." 

"Yeah maybe." He seethed, now sitting crisis crossed on the cushion. "Have you made dinner yet? I could cook." 

"I wouldn't ever eat your cooking again, Mike," I said flatly, making him frown. "No offense! You just can't cook!" 

"Hmmm..." He narrowed his eyes at me, crossing his arms and leaning back weirdly on the couch arm. He looked offended. 

"How about we just talk instead?" 

"We've been talkin'..." He said lazily, leaning his head back. 

"Why not about some other things? Why not tell me more about yourself?" 

"Like what? Nosey..." He grinned slightly. His cocky remarks made me cringe. 

"Why not tell me a bit about...what was the place called...The sister location to your friend's place...er...henry..that guy. Your father's sister location?" 

"Circus Baby's Pizza World?" He raised his eyebrows. 

"Yes! That one, I knew it had a name like that." 

"Why do you want to know about that place?" He scoffed. 

"Well...why not?" 

There was silence...

"Alright...fine." 

==========