NIGHTMARE

chapter 35

Mikey's POV.

I had told her I loved her twice now.

I hadn't told anyone I loved them since I was twelve years old.

Love had been something I was closed off to—very closed off to.

No one had ever loved me, but strangely, it seemed like she could.

It seemed like she did.

I doubted myself too much; I always did, and I knew that.

But how could I not? I mean, look at me, the life I lead, the monster I am. I didn't expect people to love me.

So when they did, it came as a major shock to me.

I rolled over uncomfortably, my leg throbbing, a pulsating pain shooting up it as I gritted my teeth together and seared.

I opened my eyes and blinked at Y/N; she was still fast asleep next to me.

Her legs were curled up as she rested her head on the pillow, snuggled up in the blanket. I let out a small smile.

I closed my eyes again, ignoring the fact that we were in bed at four in the afternoon. After everything that had happened, I really didn't care how long we stayed here for.

Two more hours passed before I felt myself being shaken and poked slightly. I peeled open my eyes; the light was nearly gone outside again. Y/N smiled softly up at me, and she let out a small yawn.

"How was your sleep?" I asked her politely; she gave me a tired nod, but not enough, I concluded.

"Needed," she scoffed, smiling slightly and rubbing her eyes.

I observed that the dark circles around her eyes were still present and noticeable.

She must have realized because the smile faded from her face and she looked up at me, insecure and concerned.

"Do I really look that bad?" Her voice came out small and hoarse, although I don't think she meant it to.

I shrugged, trying my best to put on a reassuring face. "No, you just look tired," I told her, trying not to focus on any particular part of her face, just in case she got the impression that I was staring. I didn't want to make her feel uncomfortable.

"I always look like death when I wake up; you just never see it." The smile crept back onto her face, trying to make light of the slight awkwardness of our situation.

"If death looked like you, then I'd like to come close to it more often." I flirted boyishly, my heart's rhythm jolting slightly every time I saw that smile again.

She let out a small laugh, rolling over onto her back and running her hands through her hair.

"Let's not go hoping for that; after last night, I think I'm going to need at least a few weeks before anyone even mentions death again." She shook her head slightly, still gazing up at the ceiling.

I rolled over in pain, bringing my gaze to the roof as well. I sighed deeply.

"I've been thinking about it as well; I still have to run my organization; even with being shot, my men need me," I told her.

I couldn't let my men down; they relied on me just as much as I did on them, and after everything that they had done for me, they deserved to have their leader show up and make himself useful. Otherwise, what was my point here?

"Oh Mikey, you're so daft," she started, words like a knife to my heart. "You're injured; how do you expect to run anything efficiently looking like a crippled old man?"