𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑺𝑨𝑽𝑬𝑫 𝑴𝑬 // mileven

thirty

"mike is my home."

✧ ﾟ･:*✧ ﾟ:*ﾟ　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

EL'S POV

"shit." i mumble into mike's chest, my fists gripping the bottom of his shirt as i struggle to find the strength to pull away and make my way downstairs.

"el?" mike asks me in a hushed voice, shifting one of his hands to hold the back of my head as he releases a soft sigh. "you don't have to go downstairs."

thoughts spiral in my mind, my body having an internal battle with itself. part of myself wants to run to my absent parents and scream at them for abandoning me for so long, for not even managing to call or send a quick text to wish me a happy birthday. for not bothering to check in on me even though they knew i was in a depressed state.

the other part of myself wants to ignore the two people standing just a short walk away, and yearns to jump out of my window and escape this house.

but as i feel mike's hands holding me to him, i begin to wonder if his presence could give me the strength to look them in the eye and tell them everything that i've bottled up inside of me for the past six months. finally holding them accountable for their negligence and being able to convince myself that it's not my fault that they keep leaving me.

with a small sniffle, i plant my hands against mike's chest and force myself to pull away from the warmth and comfort that his body gives me. a trembling breath escapes my lips before i purse them together and force a tight smile on my face.

"i'm fine." i say simply, slowly pulling my hands away from mike and wrapping them around myself, allowing my arms to encircle my body in a shield-like manner. "let's go."

i move to my door, struggling to keep up my calm composure, even though my mind is pounding with anxious thoughts and my body screams at me, telling me that this is a bad idea. i watch mike out of the corner of my eye, noticing how his face contorts in concern and how his hand twitches slightly as if he wants to pull it to mine.

i make the move for him, reaching over to him and finding his hand in my own, taking pleasure in the way the action seems so natural.

i feel my feet move on their own accord, carrying me out of my sanctuary of a room and down the staircase, the tension in my body escalating higher with every passing moment. my steps begin to slow as we reach the first floor, my movements hesitant as i make the turn into the living room, where my parents are currently standing.

i hear their laughter, filled with glee, and it pulls at my heartstrings, my mind realizing how unfamiliar their voices sound and how i haven't heard them enough in the past 17 years of my life.

i feel mike give my hand a reassuring squeeze as i reluctantly walk into the large room, making myself visible to my parents.

except they don't notice me. their eyes barely flick across us before they excitedly return back to their conversation, as if whatever they're taking about is far more important than giving me the time of day.

i internally debate between staying planted right where i am, or running back into my room and screaming into my pillow, letting out all the tension built up inside of me. but, somehow, mike's presence allows me to stay standing, as if he's the sole thing giving me strength.