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He's tired, burnt out and utterly terrified.
Trembling hands gripping against the cold counter; sweat rolling down his forehead, falling down his cheeks and mixing with his tears. His breathing is ragged, he's hiccuping and swallowing hard, trying so hard to not make a sound but the hard knot in his throat makes it difficult. Michael hates this. How his heart pounds harder than the ticking of the old grandfather clock he inherited and louder than the creaking of the wood under your feet.
He sniffles and takes a deep breath before peering over his shoulder to see your figure illuminated by the moonlight. Oh how he wishes you wouldn't see him like this. Weak, tired, ashamed. A madman even. But you don't see that, do you?
"Love?" your voice is music to his ears. A sirens song luring him to his taste of eternal paradise. Michael lets out a strained yes and straightens his posture. Your foot steps come closer and you're by his side, a place you swore you'd be till your last breath. He flinches at the sudden warmth of your hand on his, not realizing how cold he'd really been.
You apologize quietly and place the fabrics in front of him. "I brought you a clean shirt and a towel to clean up...if you'd like i'll start the shower," rather than a question it was more of a suggestion you'd hope he'd take up, though that'd be selfish. Michael couldn't care for the shirt, less alone the towel, but the thought warmed his heart. "My dear, can we stay here...for a little while..."
There was a moment of silence between you two before a hum of agreement was made. Michael's arms wrapped around you, with one hand pressing against your shoulder and the other on the small of your back, firmly keeping you in place. His lips left little sweet kisses along the crook of your neck before resting his head against it. You can feel him trembling much like he was before, but as you wrapped your arms around his waist you could feel him relax a bit.
You've watched Michael and his levels of stress over the course many years; with family drama and this new job, it only seemed to make it skyrocket, but never once have you seen him this broken down. A man who keeps things compacted deep inside is ready to burst at any moment, you both knew this. And maybe tonight was it.
"Mike," your right hand rubs his back in soothing circles as he hiccups and murmurs a soft yes. "You're so tense, why don't we just take a bath, you don't have to move an inch, i just want you to relax...wouldn't that be nice?" The silence is back as he processes the offer that'd just been given to him. "It's okay to say no, i could-"
"That would be heavenly," he cuts you off, leaving you one last kiss against your neck before he pulls away. He opens his mouth to speak again but with you standing on your toes, finger tips ghosting his cheeks and briefly wiping the rogue tears before planting a kiss, he decides to stay silent. God how he wishes you'd been there, all the times before this, to have you wipe his tears when he were younger.
Michael stands in silence as he watches you walk away and head back upstairs. The faint sounds of the squeaky faucet and the water running puts a faint smile on his face. Why were you so good to him? Sometimes he questioned this, when he'd be checking on the animatronics his mind would always crawl back to you and this relationship. What had he done to deserve the pure and unconditional love? Surely his actions didn't get him here...hell, you were the one to make the first move after all.
He shakes his head to get out of it. Sweaty hands grab the towel and spare clothes before he follows in your footsteps; up the stairs and into the bathroom.
Upon entering he watches you pull your hand out from underneath the faucet, mumbling about it being too cold before changing the right handle. "I don't mind it being a little cold, love," he speaks up, placing the fabrics down on the sink. You let out a soft hum as you run your hand back to the water. "Are you sure? Cause im certain i just got it to the perfect temperature." Even though he's looking at your back, he knows there's a little smug smile laying on your face.
"Well then, that'll be fine," he huffs lightheartedly as he tosses his black hat to the ground. Callused fingers hurriedly unbutton his shirt, eager to get rid of the clingy feeling of the cotton. Then finally his pants, socks and shoes, all in a pile he promised he'd pick up once he was done. But knowing you, you'd do it anyways to keep him doing anything other than to enjoy the time he had at home. And now it was to be safe and sound, soaked in the sweet warmth of the water.
Michael hissed when his flesh touched the water; hot to the touch, but not nearly hot enough to burn. Maybe he was just being a baby about it. By the time he sat down he swore he could hear the trumpets that welcome you to heaven. "Michael, don't enjoy yourself too much, wouldn't want you to fall asleep and have me fish you out." He laughs at your comment and sinks into the water out of spite; blue eyes watching your figure out the door, his dirty uniform in your arms.
It didn't take him long to start feeling drowsy, and he hadn't begun to scrub himself clean. Sore arms reached for the soaps and washcloth and got to work, even though you said you'd take care of him. The sight of the clear water turning into the sudsy, foggy color made him regress back into his mind. Remembering all the times he'd have to share a bath with his siblings or rather when he'd been dragged to take one by his mother after he'd come home from playing around In the dirt roads and even dirtier playgrounds. Playing with a small rubber duck and whining everytime a drop of water had gotten on his face when his mother had been washing his hair. He took a breath before moving himself under the water, his long legs poking out in the to make room for the rest of him.
You'd just so happen to peak in when he was doing this, giggling to yourself and calling out his name till he finally resurface; though at the price of him splashing water onto the ground. Drenched hair covering his eyes yet he turns his head to face you, leading you to laugh harder. "Having fun there darling?" You smile, stepping closer and grabbing the towel, covering the floor before kneeling down.
A shade of pink dusts his cheeks as he brushes his hair up, rolling his eyes at you before replying. "Yes, actually...and sorry for the mess, why don't you let me clean it up, yeah?" You place your arms on the edge of the tub, overlapping them before laying your head on them. "Alright, but i still have to get you a new towel," you explain, a yawn butting into the end of your sentence. "You ready to get out?"
"Still gotta wash my hair," michael turns to grab the shampoo but you've beaten him to it. "Love," he sighs, watching you squirt some onto your hand before massaging it into his hair. "You don't have to-"
"But I want to," you retort with another yawn, "it's not everyday I get to do this you know...i wish i could do this all the time." you admit with a soft smile. Your nails scratch gently at michael's scalp, the white soap become suds and bubbles. "Why would you want to do that?" he questions once you pull away, rinsing the soap off your hands in the water.
You shrug and pull your hands out of the water and onto the towel. It's silent as michael dips his head under the water once again and just as quickly but carefully, comes back out, making sure to not splash you. Your tired eyes watch as he brushes his hair back again, hearing him muttering about getting some of the water in his eyes while you move to start draining the water. "You know, I love you a lot Michael," you say, shuffling back to your spot on the towel. "I really do."
"I know, i know, and i love you too" he says, bringing his hand out of the water to hold yours. "Thank you."