The Beginning

Gates of Heaven

It could've been minutes, maybe hours, but Diana woke up to something she wasn't used to feeling lately. Arms were holding her. She briefly wondered why Robert's arms all of a sudden felt so different, and why on earth did he leave the lights on.

Then it hit her.

This was not her room.

And those arms were definitely not the arms of her ex husband.

His familiar spicy scent caught her first. Her blurred vision started to clear up, focusing on the little leaves on the sleeve of a blue Hawaiian shirt.

Michael.

Diana closed her eyes as the memories flooded her, realizing they had fallen asleep after the somewhat tortuous conversation her touches had inadvertently led them to.

Though he had tried to brush it off, telling her it was okay and it didn't matter anymore, Diana knew better.
'You don't have to lie.' She had told him. 'Talk to me.'

Her eyes fell to his chest, remembering how it had shaken violently with every soundless sob he struggled to hold back while she tried to soothe his pain from the real reason behind his heart wrenching tears.

'He was supposed to protect me.' He told her through pursed lips. A heartbreakingly ironic laugh leaving his mouth. 'To love me.'

Although most of the physical scars were long gone, it was clear that there were still deeper, uglier emotional scars, that would surely accompany him for a lot longer than that innocent looking one he still had on his skin.

Diana wished with all her being that there was something she could do to help him heal. But though he told her she did help, she knew full well none of her words could mend what was already shattered inside him. All she could do was watch and listen as he revealed a little more about his past.

'I was never good enough for him. I don't understand.. what I did wrong.' He murmured, frowning his brows after having disclosed episodes that made Diana's skin shiver with horror and tears leak out of her eyes as she heard his trembling voice.

'I can't even call him dad.' His eyes were the eyes of a hurt child, desperately looking for a shoulder to cry on.
'It's my fault. Maybe if I had worked harder he would-'

'Don't you dare.' She held his chin firmly. 'Don't you ever say that again. Do you hear me?' She stressed, making him nod weakly.
'None of that was your fault. None of it. And I won't let you do that to yourself.'

'But.. he told me..' The anguish returned to his voice as he reached for her hand, dragging it down, away from his face. 'He told me-"

'Michael. Sweetheart, listen.' Diana had her torso laid fully on his chest, and she pressed his hand to her cheek, hoping it would bring his focus to her.
It did.
'What happened to you was wrong. No one should have to go through any of that. Don't try to blame yourself for your father's mistakes. He never deserved such a wonderful son.'

Michael listened attentively, absorbing her words. His eyes briefly glimmered, reminding her too much of the little boy who used to run around her living room, singing loudly. But soon enough the darkness returned to him, and he simply lowered his eyes in silence.

She was filled with rage. At his father, for permanently harming him, for not providing him with the love he deserved. And at herself, for not doing anything when she knew, even if only superficially, about what he went through.

'It's fine really, I swear.' He had stated in a hoarse voice, caressing her cheek. 'I don't know what's gotten into me tonight.. I'm sorry for ruining.. this.'