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*time skip

I quietly slipped down the stairs, walking through the kitchen and glancing at the clock. It read 1:24am. Another day, another nightmare. The one that just woke me was much like the rest. A vision of the past, or some twisted version of it, a past so terrifying that I jolt myself awake. Sometimes I don't even want to sleep anymore, I only get pleasant dreams so often, but they are far and few. A lot of the time it takes convincing from the boys to get me to sleep, Ashton has only used his powers to make me sleep a couple of times because he knows I hate it. I would love it if he could make the nightmares go away, but he can't.

If I wanted to I could probably go for days without sleep, but that would probably worry the boys. And I don't want to cause more of a fuss than I already have. It's sweet that they worry, but that's not all I want them to do.

I stood in the middle of the kitchen, contemplating what to do. Should I eat? Toast sounds good. Should I smoke? Watch tv? All of the above? Or just do nothing? I sighed at my own indecision.

"You think very loudly, sweetheart." A voice mumbled from beside me. I gasped, almost jumping out of my own skin, and turning to see Michael beside me. He smirked a little bit as he watched me jump, then his sly smile turned into a tiny frown.

"And you scare very easily, even still." He added, looking me up and down. He leaned against the marble counters and crossed his arms.

"I'm a skittish person." I explained, dismissing his observation. I turned and opened fridge, looking over the shelves, hoping to find something good.

Michael spoke from behind me, "You were a very defiant person once, and maybe you still are but you just don't show it... I don't see that lively version of you very often anymore."

"A lot has happened, a lot's changed." I said, as if justifying myself, because he was right but I didn't want to hear it. I closed the fridge with a huff, turning around to face my all-knowing mate.

"I know. You're in your head a lot now, overthinking, blaming yourself for things you didn't have control over, you dwell a lot even though you don't want to." Michael continued. I crossed my arms over my chest and looked down, biting my lip.

"You think you'll bother us if you talk about your problems, so you keep it all bottled inside. It hurts you, it's like you're punishing yourself." Michael continued to relay the truth, his voice getting gentler as he spoke.

"N-No, that's not... I don't-"

"You know it's true." Michael said succinctly, "I hear your thoughts, I can see that you're hurting. You don't have to bottle it up, you can talk to me or any of us."

"I know you can't sleep, I've noticed how you skip meals, I know all you want to do sometimes is smoke. I know you, how you think, how you act." He whispered, coming close so he could lift my chin so I would look him in the eye. I could feel tears sting my worn out eyes. "I know your quirks and tics, and I fucking love them."

By this time he began wiping my free-falling tears. "I love you so much, but I hate how you're doing this to yourself."

"I can't help it, Mikey. I'm hurting and I don't- I don't know how to deal with it." I cried.

"You don't need to do this by yourself, sometimes things are too hard to handle on your own. You have me, Luke, Ash, and Cal, we'll help you get better." He promised.

"You still want some toast?" He asked, after a small pause. I laughed, and he smiled triumphantly.

"You know I do." I said.

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