Chapter Text
Michael goes radio silent for the rest of the afternoon. I spend that time wondering what he's doing and how he's feeling. Before meeting Michael I don’t think I’ve ever been so worried about how someone is feeling, except with Charlie, of course. Waiting around for him to come through the door is torture.
I try to distract myself by flicking through the channels on the TV or scrolling through my phone but neither works. After a while of failed distraction, I get under the covers and force myself to sleep to pass the time. Thoughts of last night flood into my brain. Michael laying against my shoulder, my fingers running through his hair. I’ve slept alone my entire life but one night with Michael makes sleeping by myself seem so foreign. So wrong. So cold.
I sleep in fits and starts, luckily never falling deep enough to dream. Most of my dreams seem to be nightmares these days.
Charlie calls me around four to check in.
T: How was the cinema with Nick?
C: It was Nick’s turn to pick the film and he picked a Marvel one so as expected he had the time of his life and I was underwhelmed.
T: Nick needs to let me bestow some of my film knowledge upon him. This superhero fixation simply will not do.
Charlie laughs. I can hear Oliver talking passionately to Tractor Tom in the background. Charlie collects himself and asks three questions in rapid succession.
C: How was Michael’s race? Did he place? Is he doing alright?
I take a breath. It doesn’t feel real to say the words out loud.
T: He took first place. He’s going to the Olympics.
C: No way. No fucking way !
“That is not a very good word” Oliver pipes in. Charlie ignores him.
C: Like the real Olympics?
T: The real Olympics . He’s going to the real Olympics.
C: Shit. You told me he was good but you didn’t tell me he was good .
I say nothing, I can only smile to myself like an idiot. If Tori four months ago could see me now.
C: Do you think he’ll invite you to go with him to the Olympics? When even are the Olympics? Do you-
The lock on the door clicks and the door swings open.
T: I’ll call you back. Love you.
C: Wait Tori-
I hang up the phone.
Michael stands in the doorway. He’s switched out of his suit and into a matching set of blue warmups with his last name printed on the back and a Union Jack on either bicep. Somehow he seems taller. His glasses are crooked and his hair is a bit disheveled, but it's him. My Michael.
I throw the sheets off and throw myself into his arms. He sweeps me up and spins me around, kissing the top of my head as he returns me to my feet. We don’t say anything for God knows how long. There isn’t a single word in the entire English lexicon that could convey just how proud I am in this moment.
“Shit” Michael says when we’ve finally broken apart. “ Shit . I did it.” His eyes get glassy and it doesn’t take long for the dam to break and for Michael begin to properly cry. Its different from last nights frustrated, exhausted tears. The tension has melted to relief and even as he cries, Michael cannot stop smiling. We sit down on the bed, his head on my shoulder as I run my fingers through tangled curls. And Michael Holden cries.
I try to fathom how huge of a moment this must be to Michael but I doubt that I’ve ever been as happy in my life as he is in this moment. I don’t think that I have the emotional capacity to have feelings this big. But dear God, I have never been so happy to see someone cry.
“I just-” Michael sniffles as he attempts to compose himself, “I’ve pinned my entire life on going to the Olympics and its what I’ve been working to ever since my first race when I was, like, six.” He wipes his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. “And for all these years I’ve told myself that no matter how optimistic I am and how hard I work that I’ll neer make it there. Because thats not something that happens to people, especially people like me. All weekend I’ve been mentally preparing myself to lose this race and lose my entire future and… And, fuck, it feels so good that I get live my dream instead of having to let it die.”
I take his hands in mine and kiss the tops of his knuckles. “You deserve everything that you’ve ever dreamed of.” I guess I’m the soppy one in the relationship now. At least for tonight.
He smiles at me through teary eyes and kisses the top of my forehead. “Thank you. For being here. I couldn’t have done it without you. I would have worked myself up too much or psyched myself or something stupid like keeping myself up all night worrying and then losing because I hadn’t slept in God knows how long. You’re the calm in the eye of the storm, Tori Spring.”
“Oh c’mon, we both know that I am the storm.”
Michael shakes his head, refusing to let me deflect the compliment. “Not here. Not today. You’re my good luck charm.”
We sit in silence again. I don’t say the words but I know that Michael knows that I’m proud of him.
“So,” Michael begins, “what would you think about coming with me? To the Olympics next year, that is. I’m sure I’ll be allowed a plus one.”
And without thinking about anything else. Without worrying about what life will be like next year once I’m off to Uni or about leaving Charlie and Oliver to travel abroad or paying for the trip or literally anything else, I lunge forward and kiss him.
“Yeah,” I say. “Okay.”