Thanatophobia| MICHAEL AFTON x READER

28| Prat

1st person Y/N POV

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I cringed when Michael left the room. I saw that eye roll. He needs to learn to understand my tone with jokes. Now he's sulking in the bedroom, and I feel like crap. 

I do what any person would do...I get the stool, and I get the mugs and the slushy mix down from on top of the cabinets...I take a pitcher and fill it with water, then a blue type of slushy mix. Of course, I have to freeze it until it's slush-like, which will take a while, but he can sulk for those few hours...Maybe he needs it. 

I click my tongue as I leave the kitchen, going back to the loveseat to finish watching this random rom-com TV show I started watching like a week ago...its really bad, but highly addicting...Maybe that's why I've been so edgy lately. 

Not as Edgy as Michael, though. 

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I get stuck watching this show for an HOUR before I finally hear Michael coming back down the hallway. He didn't even look at me as he passed through the sitting room...

"Hey," I said, catching his attention. He looked like he didn't mean to turn around so quickly. "Why are your clothes wet?" 

"Was sittin' in the bathtub." He shrugged, turning back around and going into the kitchen. I heard the fridge open, then a happy gasp, then the fridge close. That indicated that the slush was slush and that he was going to be drinking it. 

"Can you get me some?" I asked from the sitting room.  I didn't get an answer right away, but as soon as I saw him come out of the kitchen with the entire pitcher and a single straw, I got my answer. 

"Sorry, dear. Not enough for two," he said, making me wince. 

"Ugh..." I scoffed. 

"You know, once upon a time, you liked it when I called you that..." He frowned, taking a long, slow sip from the pitcher. 

"I still do." I gave him a confused look. He just narrowed his eyes at me. 

"You cringe each time I say it, love." 

"Im not cringin' at that part, mate, im cringing at the other things you say." He chuckled softly. "Like you holding a whole pitcher of slushy and not sharing any with me." 

"It's mine." He shrugged. 

"I made it!" 

"Well, I got to it first." 

"You're being real cocky for a guy who looks like he's pissed himself you know that?" I raised my eyebrows, grinding slightly as he looked down at his wet clothes. 

"Tub was wet, love, don' know what you except, yeah." He scoffed, taking another long, slow sip from the pitcher. 

"You have an addiction." 

"Better than drugs." He closed his eyes for a minute, then took another sip. "Who needs cocaine, right?" He laughed starkly, turning on his heel and striding back to the bedroom, closing the door behind him. He's being a total prat, and I don't like it. 

I get off of the loveseat after turning off the telly and stride down the hall and into the bedroom. Michael was sitting on the bed, the kitchen held between his legs and his phone in hand. He was watching a video on it, but it was too quiet for me to hear it properly. 

"What's your problem?" I scoffed. 

"What do you mean?" He looked up at me once he turned off his phone. "Am I not allowed to relax?" 

"You're not allowed to act like a brat." I shook my head. "and your wet clothes are on my bed! Get off!" I waved my hands at him, making him get off of the bed. He looked upset when I smoothed out the sheets on the spot he was sitting. 

"Hmmm..." he grumbled, setting the now halfway melted slushy down on his vanity and going into the washroom. He closed the door behind him, mumbling something while he did. I could almost hear his eyes roll. It was nauseating...I have no idea why im having such a hard time with him today. 

"Mike..." I groan, picking up the slushy and carrying it out of the room. It was half-melted, so I just put it back into the freezer so it would last longer...im sure he would appreciate that at least a little bit. 

Before I leave, I turn off the kitchen lights and turn off the lamps in the sitting room. I don't expect to be coming back out, so there isn't any need for them to still be on. When I get back into the bedroom, I knock on the washroom door. 

"Mikey?" My voice cracks. I clear my throat. "Im coming in," I said quickly before opening the door. 

My god it was pathetic...and I feel horrible for saying it like that, but the man is mental. 

He was sitting in the corner of the tub curled up. He looked sad and depressed. Like a bloody abused kid hiding from his parents fighting. 

"What are you doing?" I said slowly. He just hummed in response, making me shake my head. "Michael, seriously." 

"You made me sad..." His voice whined. He was muffled from his face being buried in his arms. He was acting like a child. 

"You got your wet clothes on the bed, Michael." 

"don't call me that..." He huffed, throwing one of the tiny bars of soap at me. He missed by a mile, and it hit the wall, leaving a white residue that made my head go in a different direction. 

"Why are you in the bathtub?" I shook my head again. 

"You're being mean today..." 

"Are you crying?" I almost laughed. 

"No!" His voice cracked, and I almost had an aneurysm trying not to laugh. "Go away..." 

"Michael why are you crying." 

"Don't call me that! Get out!" He balled up even tighter, making it a point that he looked as sad as possible being all pathetic and weird. 

"Mike, your clothes are soaked, you could of at least put a towel down..." I sighed, coming over to the tub. "Come on, get out so we can go to bed." 

"Im not having sex with you!" He swatted my hands away. 

"I never asked you to...?" I cringed, pulling back my hands. I frowned when I realized that he was just mocking what I had said earlier. "Right...right, whatever, be a child, Mike." I stood back up and pulled the shower curtain back across the tub. "I'll be in bed. Don't forget to change your clothes before you join me." 

All I got in response was a pitiful hum as I closed the door. 

Im not sure why he was acting like this- I never knew he would be this...emotional? Bipolar, more like...He can go from happy and joy to total disaster in the span of like 30 seconds...All because I kicked him out of the bed because he was getting it wet. 

A total child, in all honesty...

As I changed and got into bed, I picked up Michael's phone, which was still on the bed. He had given me his password because I liked his camera quality. I always took pictures with weird filters on them and saved them to his gallery for him to find later...

Right now though, I just clicked onto a video app and watched the first thing that came up...

I got through 4 videos before Michael finally came out. He didn't say anything- didn't even look at me- He just came over his the wardrobe and got into his drawers. He undressed, then got dry clothes on. 

"Feeling better?" I ask softly. He just hummed a scrawled into bed. 

His head came under my arm, and it fell across his back. His arms wrapped around my torso, and his head rested on my chest. our legs tangled together(Not literally, weirdo). 

"Oh?" I said as he clicked off of the video on his phone, which I was still holding. He clicked onto a movie app and turned on a musical I hadn't ever seen before. He claimed it to be Opera. 

The Phantom Of The Opera...

"It's good. It's the theater version." He said in a mumble. 

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