Chapter Text
You'd known Michael Afton for a few months, and in the few months you'd known him, you had heard all about the Freddy's franchise.
He was obsessed with it, essentially. You didn't blame him; his father was a monster when he was a kid, he needed something to hold on to.
But did he have to drag you into it?
You remember the stories. If it had been your younger sibling, and you had to constantly hear about it, you'd probably go crazy. That's all you could think about as you stepped into the building, him right by your side.
Michael had a way of convincing you to do things you didn't really want to do. But it was fine. You'd follow him anywhere, even a creepy abandoned building his murderer dad used to own.
Okay, maybe that was a little far for a normal person.
"Come on, there's so much to show you!" His face lights up like a little kid on Christmas morning as he walks into the restaurant.
The inside of the restaurant was a lot like the outside; decrepit. There were things everywhere, glass broken on the floor.
Michael looked like he was in heaven, though. Fingers brushing the dirty walls, crouching down to stare at the floor.
It was look you had never seen on him before, a look of pure love.
You weren't quite sure where Michael had gone.
He had said he was going to check out the river section quickly, but after ten minutes, he hadn't come back.
Oh well. Time to explore.
Walking slowly down the stairs, you wrapped your jacket around you. It was already chilly, but the basement was cold, abnormally so.
For the most part, it was a normal basement. Except, of course, for the giant present in the middle of the room. In front of it was a music box, playing a soft melody.
You gently pick up the box. You're just about to click the switch off when it's pulled from your hands and set back on the floor.
You hadn't even noticed Michael come down.
"Careful," he says, voice low as he stands back up. His eyes don't meet yours as he lays a hand on your arm, squeezing slightly.
Michael shoves his hands in his pockets as he walks back up the stairs. Ahead of you, you can hear him muttering, but you can't quite make out what it is he is saying.
The two of you don't speak again until you're back in his car, the Radiohead CD he had in picking its place back up as he turns the keys.
"What was with the basement?" you ask hesitantly. He doesn't look over at you, just releases the steering wheel from his grip and leans back.
He takes a deep breath. "A lot of weird things go on in places like this."
Cryptic as ever, he doesn't elaborate. "So?" you push, turning to face him, arm braced on the center console.
"People get hurt. I... don't want that to happen to you."
You can see the tips of his ears turning red, and you suspect his face is too. You can't confirm it, though, because he's turned away before you can see.
Emotional Michael Afton, you decided, may be your favorite Michael Afton.
"Aww, you care about me!" you say, smiling to yourself as you buckle your seatbelt.
You're waiting, looking at him to start driving. He leans forward, fingers tapping the wheel. He looks over at you.
"I do. More than I should." A pause. "I love you."
It comes as a surprise, both the suddeness of the confession and the words themself.
Any words you wanted to say get caught in your throat. You undo your seatbelt, before leaning over to turn the car off. Goodbye, Thom York, you think.
He doesn't seem startled, though you don't know how he could've expected you to do that, since you didn't know you were going to until you actually did it. Your fingers leave the keys, right hand coming to lay on his knee.
One part of you wants to say something cheeky and sarcastic, like 'I know.' One part wants to say 'I love you too,' or 'I've been waiting for you to say that.'
Neither part wins, because soon you're leaning over to kiss him, the hand not on his knee coming to cup his face.
Michael's body tenses, and you quickly lean back, using the sleeve of your jacket to cover your face in embarrassment.
"Sorry," you say quicky, fumbling as you move to sit back down.
The ride back to your shared apartment is quiet. You were used to quiet with Michael, but this quiet was piercing. It was awkward. It was a constant reminder of how much you just fucked up.
As soon as the car stops, you're out and going in the door, not even bothering with the elevator. You take the stairs two at a time until you get to your floor.
Shakily, you let yourself into the apartment, leaving it unlocked behind you. You beeline for the kitchen, turning the faucet on.
It was hot.
You splash some water on your face, but it doesn't work; you're still burning. Behind you, you hear the door knob turns and Michael's boots on the floor board. You dry your face on a towel and throw it back in the counter, taking your jacket off as you make your way to your room.
Stupid. That's what you were. Stupid for thinking he actually felt the same way about you. Love didn't have to be romantic. No, it wasn't a confession. He loved you as a friend, that was all.
His hand catches your wrist before you can shut the door behind you. "I'm sorry," he says quietly. You pull your hand away, leaning your forehead against the door of your room. "I was nervous."
"It's fine, Michael. I shouldn't have done it," you say, hand fumbling the door knob. You step into your room, not even bothering with the door. Michael always had to have the last word; you figured he'd just open it back anyway.
He follows you, sitting beside you on the edge of your bed. "You shouldn't have, no. But I shouldn't have said I loved you. It just sort of... slipped out."
You shrug, hands clasping in your lap. You could feel his eyes on you; you don't look back at him Michael clears his throat. "I meant it, though. I do love you."
"Thanks. I guess," you mutter, staring at a stray thread on your blanket. "Still doesn't make it right, what I did. I shoulda known you didn't like guys, let alone me."
He pauses. "I didn't mean that you shouldn't have kissed me because I didn't want you to. You just shouldn't have done it there."
His hand comes to rest on your shoulder as he moves closer. "Here, though. Here is good."
In a swift movement, his hands are cupping your face, lips pressing to yours. You react quickly, hands circling his waist as you pull him towards you.
He pulls away quickly, before settling himself on your lap, legs straddling you. "You don't know how long I've been wanting this."
His lips are back in yours in an instant.