Chapter Text
the chemical smell was nauseating, a polarizing odor really. dye stains covered the sink, floor, and top of the toilet. you sat directly on the closed toilet seat, head in your hands and sobs escaping your mouth. he said he didn’t like blondes, they reminded him of his dead mother, so you bleached your hair until it was dead. how much longer was this pain going to last? why did every thought of the man make your heart break a little more? how had your body not run dry of tears?
2 years. deep down you knew it was never going to last; michael had a ton of trauma he wasn’t able to work through, and he was known to suppress his emotions. you’d thought he’d been trying to get better. hell, he even started investigating the old pizzerias. you thought this had been a good sign, taking the problem head on, but it did nothing but tear the two of you apart.
6:34 a.m. was the time he usually would arrive home after work. when he first started, it was great. you would make him breakfast, and put on reruns of his favorite show on the t.v. he would scarf his food down, and give you a kiss on the forehead before he would go lay down for awhile. it was a set routine for about a month.. and then it wasn’t. it started off simple; he would walk in a few minutes later than usual, a bit more sluggish and shook up. then, he stopped watching his t.v show, you’d just passed it off like he was tired of the program and had even started putting something else on. it was also ignored. after a week or so of no shows, and walking in a bit later than usual, he stopped eating breakfast. ‘ maybe he’s just tired of pancakes? ’ you’d thought, so you started making fruit parfaits, or muffins. he would always mumble that he just wasn’t hungry. the forehead kisses were gone next, replaced with a side hug. no, that stopped after a few days, too. eventually, michael just stopped communicating. he would walk in from work, take a quick shower, and go right to sleep. ‘ okay, this job is just wearing him out.. ’ that’s when you stopped going back to sleep when he got home. you would stay up, maybe reading or writing in your journal. sometimes you would just watch him sleep, noticing that he even looked troubled with his eyes closed. closer towards the end, michael had begun talking in his sleep again: ‘ father ’, ‘ evan ’, ‘ elizabeth ’..the same words repeated every morning.
“michael- please, please talk to me.” you remembered begging one day. it’d been a few hours before michael had to be at work, and he hadn’t said a single word to you. “what did i do wrong? why won’t you talk to me anymore?” insecurities had begun to flood your mind. you’d begun thinking that michael was simply tired of you, even considered the possibility that there was someone else.
michael had simply scowled at you, and started walking off to the bedroom. you’d grabbed his arm with tears in your eyes, silently begging for some type of explanation.
“why are you so fucking needy ?” he ripped himself out of your grip and went to bed, leaving you speechless. the sound of his words echoed in your ears, followed by the sound of the bedroom door locking. you could remember the feeling like it was yesterday; the sobs that had escaped your mouth were inhuman, and you had red marks peppered across your face as if the tears had burned your skin. deep down you knew that michael didn’t mean it, you knew that he loved you, but those simple words had torn you down. it amazed you, honestly, how a simple sentence could cause you to question yourself so heavily. what happened to the michael you’d fallen in love with?
you stopped trying to talk to michael after that day. you felt like a piece of you died that day; you knew that michael was falling out of love with you. after that day, you two had gone from a happy relationship to barely roommates. it was incredibly hard to take in, and you’d even considered moving back in with your parents. the day you were planning on leaving, michael had stopped you.
he’d finally gotten up to get ready for work. you barely looked at him when you walked passed him with your suitcase. you didn’t want to leave, you didn’t want to break up. you just wanted some time to clean up your thoughts. you’d done all you could do. you gave him his space, only speaking to him when spoken to. you would cook food for yourself, but leave him a plate in the microwave. you would even wash the linens twice a week so he’d have a comfortable place to sleep. just little things that you’d done at the beginning of the relationship that michael had originally loved.
“where are you going?” michael had asked. it was the first question he had asked you in almost two weeks, the only question before that had been him asking where you’d put the remote.
“i’m going to stay with my parents for awhile,” you tried to hide the tears that were beginning to well in your eyes. you didn’t want him to see you weak. “i just want you to have some time to reflect on what you want.” you sniffled.
for the first time in almost a month, michael touched you. he’d sat beside you, and wrapped you into his arms.
“i want you.” michael pressed a kiss to your lips. you’d been so touch starved, you fell right into the kiss and tears streamed. he pulled away, but kept your foreheads pressed together. “i-” you could see the tears well into michael’s own eyes. “i can’t lose you, too.” and you held him. you held michael while he sobbed, you comforted him. you listened to him rant and rave about his thoughts. you indulged yourself in his words, thankful that your michael was back even if it was just for a few minutes. he sobbed, and shook, while whispering apologies into your hair. apologizing for being a neglectful boyfriend, and not being there when you obviously needed him. you forgave him. you promised him that you would always fight for him. you professed your love for him, just in the way you had only 4 months after you began your relationship. the feeling you felt that day didn’t last long.
may 10th. that was the day you would never forget. you’d been so busy trying to balance work, home, and michael that you’d begun to neglect your own needs. your hair was dead, and the bags under your eyes were prominent. you’d began rewearing dirty laundry, just so michael’s uniforms would be clean. you just wanted to make him happy. michael began to take notice. in his eyes, you were the most beautiful person in his eyes, but he also wasn’t afraid to admit that you weren’t yourself anymore. your smile didn’t reach your eyes anymore, and your clothes were baggy now. he’d noticed that you took such good care of him, and he didn’t appreciate it enough. he’d noticed that you hung onto all of his words, as if they would be his last. michael loved you more than anything, but the job was draining the life out of him, and now it was doing the same to you. no, michael thought, it wasn’t the job that was draining y/n- it was him. it took him some time to realize: he was turning into his father, or so he thought. he was neglectful to your needs, and he couldn’t do that. you were too good, too pure. you loved him, and all of his trauma, and it wasn’t your job to do that for him. it wasn’t your job to baby him. michael knew what he needed to do.
michael had walked into the shared bedroom, and saw you crying again. you were writing in your journal, and a pout was on your lips.
“y/n-” as soon as you heard the way he said your name, you knew. you knew it was over.
your lip quivered unintentionally, “what?”
“i can’t see you like this anymore..” michael sighed.
“what do you mean?”
“i don’t think we should be together anymore.” you felt numb at his words. there was no way you could have prepared for the way your heart broke at that moment. the tears that’d previously been sliding down your face stopped. your whole world stopped. michael’s own heart broke in two when you looked up at him. you’d never looked so numb.
“i’m not enough for you?” despite how manipulative the words sounded out loud, it was a genuine question you wanted an answer to. where did you go wrong?
michael hesitated at your question. as much as he didn’t want to, he knew he had to be harsh. if he wasn’t, you would stay. you would beg, and cry, and he couldn’t let himself hurt you anymore. he couldn’t be his father.
“no,” michael said. “you were too much.”
your mouth formed an ‘o’ shape as if to say something, but no words would come out. before michael could change his own mind, he turned and left the room.
you jumped off of the bed, and scattered after him. “tell me you don’t want to leave. say i’m enough to make you stay.” sobs started to pour out of your mouth again, “i know it’s not true, but please just say it!”
michael looked at you one last time, tears streaming down his own face, “i’m sorry, y/n.”
michael left.
it took nearly a year to feel like yourself again. you began going out with your friends again, and even started writing in the journal again. michael hadn’t contacted you again, and had dropped his key off and gathered the rest of his stuff when you were at work one day.
now, you were sitting in a booth at a caf é. your hand clutched a latte, taking in the warmth, while the other held open a book. you couldn’t control the way your heart still shattered when you heard michael’s name, or the way tears would try to gather into your eyes when someone was wearing something purple. your hair was still blonde, a constant reminder of michael’s words. you continued dying it, as a way of control. you would always miss michael, and your mind would always wander to where he could possibly be now or what he was doing at that particular moment. sometimes you’d even find yourself scanning over the obituaries in the newspaper, worried that one day you’d see his name.
you could barely make out the sound of the bell ringing when the caf é door opened, too focused on your book to even glance up. it wasn’t until you saw shoes stop nearly in front of your booth that you looked up.
“y/n?”
“michael?” his name escaped your mouth in a whisper.