More than just us (Michael Afton x Reader)

6 - checking in on Michael

I walked into Michael's room, which was messy with a heavy smoke smell to it and dirty clothes littered his floor. His closed curtains were so thick and blocked out all sunlike, leaving his room in a dark like night. His bed was a complete mess, with Micheal sleeping in the middle as if he never even tried to sleep in bed. Still in his work clothes, still sleep. How was he still asleep? Has he really become that lazy?

I approached their side with caution, gently nudging and softly calling his name until his weary eyes fluttered open, carrying the weight of sorrow within them. A haze of tear-stained exhaustion embraced their puffy eyelids, tinged with traces of redness. He held a vacant look about him, drool mixed with tears stained his face. How bad was he last night? Did Roselyn give him too hard of a time?

"What happened last night?" I asked, helping him to sit up on his bed. He didn't even have a blanket over him. A bad alcoholic odour rose from his scuffed clothing from the night below. HAs he been drinking?

He let out a weary groan, his mind still clouded and struggling to grasp the situation as he surveyed his surroundings, his gaze fixating on the draped windows that shielded him from the outside world. "Damn it," he muttered, his voice laced with a mixture of frustration and exhaustion. His alarm clock blinked "1 PM" in bold letters, revealing the extent of his restless night. I loved him, this was more than what happned issue. This was the result of yesterday being the final strew to everything he held within his blocked off. I yearned for him to confide in me, to share the weight of his struggles but all I have ever gained from our friends was things he should of spoke to me about. I was meant to be their for him like he was there for me, hiding the truth that he was badly struggling. I never once saw him this drunk, this down in the dumbs. Often shooing away any help that was ever offered, knowing he had his unhealthy ways to cope. Though coping wasn't the words that could describe the managed mess of man that barely could sit up without support.

"I'm late," he mumbled, his body instinctively rose, driven by a sense of urgency. Within a sense of worry, I gently restrained him, pressing him back onto the bed, keeping him seated as his gaze locked onto mine. First anger but then a shifted to sadness with a glimmer of melancholy hue. his movements unsteady and clumsy, reminiscent of a bewildered toddler trying to make sense of a world spinning around him, taking too long of moments for reality to fully settle in, but when he settled and he could focus fully on what he could see. How could he be this bad? I watched his face illuminated with hope emerging by the sight of me keeping him safe from his own drunken stupidity. He lunged forward, enveloping me in a desperate embrace as if act of holding me would keep me close. Keep me around him. Keep him safe. He need someone to be around for him. He whispered "sorry" repeatedly, seeking forgiveness for a multitude of unseen burdens he carried within.

"Tell me, how much did you drink?" I asked once more, hugging him back with my fingers gently combing through his disheveled hair. Nothing came of asking, not a long sigh or him grunting in annoyance. He sat unaware of anything with me in his arms, murrmuring sorry to many times, to mean anything. His voice sounded passionate with every sorry sounding more like begging than anything else.

"Alright, I forgive you. Please, stay in bed, let me take care of you." I offered, softly pushing him down on to his bed with my body against his. He cuddled me in with his arms tightly around me helplessly.

It didn't matter how much time had passed or how long we spent cuddling? All that mattered was that he was okay and comfortable in my arms, with his head snuggled into me, his body pressed hopelessly against mine and his breath tickling the skin of my neck.
He left me to my own thoughts, sleeping away cluelessly.

Spending time watching him, running my fingers though his soft locks of hair, getting to spend a moment of being important was everything to me, him needing me to be there for him was everything. All I wanted was to be able to help him and comfort him. To care for him like how he cared for me, and spent my time with him. If he never tells me anything, any of his troubles, any of his worries and hardships, this would do instead. his eyes flickered on, letting out a raspy groan against my skin.