This is a requested sequel to "Look At Me". Thank you all for the support on my writing! You've all been unbelievably sweet! Lots of love and kisses! xx. ✨
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"How long has he been here?"
"Since last night."
"Has she woken up yet?"
"No, she passed out due to loss of blood. She hasn't woken since."
When you opened your eyes, you were immediately blinded by the extremely white room. Your vision was still blurred, but you could make out the body sitting next to you in a chair. Michael's black curls were not pulled back in his usual bun or ponytail. Most of his hair hung loosely over his face, covering his eyes and part of his nose. Looking him over, you noticed he was wearing the exact same thing he was wearing the last time you saw him. The only thing that seemed to be different was his shirt, which was simply a white t-shirt that he wore as an undershirt under all of his clothes. With that, he still had his same black slacks, white socks, and black loafers.
"In my opinion, Mike is in worse shape. He's been real hard on himself, saying this was all his fault," the voice continued.
You immediately recognized it as Bill's voice.
Michael was blaming himself? You thought to yourself.
Of course he is, you concluded, It was probably the first thing he did. God, I wish he wasn't so hard on himself. But, it's in his personality to blame himself before me.
"Not . . . your fault," you mumbled, trying to reach out to Michael's sleeping figure.
"Mrs. Jackson, you're awake!" A voice you didn't recognize said.
"Mhm . . ."
A nurse hurried to your side and kneeled by the bed.
"How are you feeling? Any migraines? Do you feel any pain anywhere?"
"My . . . head hurts," you answered.
"Alright, we have some pain medication for you to take for that. Would you like to take it now?"
You shrugged and agreed.
While the nurse went to fetch the medication, Bill came to your side and kneeled.
"Hey there, Y/N. How you doin'? Man, you gave us a scare."
You tried to think back to the day before. Only small parts came back to your mind.
"I remember listening to Debarge and Prince, cleaning the house, and calling Michael. How did I end up . . ."
"Oh man, you don't remember the earthquake? Heard it was a 6.1! You got knocked out by a pot that fell from that rack you so carelessly stood under. Some silverware or glasses or something fell from the counter and cut your leg, too. Man, we came to the house and you were just waking up, but you'd lost a lot of blood. Mike tried to keep you conscious, but you passed out before five minutes went by. The kid was worried out of his mind. This is the first time I've seen him sleeping."
Bill glanced over at Michael and you turned to him. You were happy to see that he was finally getting sleep. You could already picture him pacing the room, tugging on his hair, fidgeting infinitely.
