Work Text:
"Now, this is our last house of the tour."
The lock of the apartment door clicks with the help, of the real estate’s agents key. Opening the chamber to your last choice.
Or at least your last choice in this company.
The three of you make their way inside, letting you get a much better look at your possible future apartment.
"As you can see, the front door lead you right away to the living room, the small space in between, leaving you enough space for a coat hanger." She wastes no time throwing you into the tour, putting on the formal tone and that fake smile you can see on every real-estate agent.
Her eyes scream only one thing, that being: "I'll sell you an apartment today, no matter what it takes."
"I love the furniture, what year is it from?" You ask the lady as your hands gently close the door.
"It's from the 90's," her head turns towards you: "just like this whole complex. It's fairly new, it will only turn 10 years as of next month. Making it the perfect place for young couples like you." After these words her attention returns back to the goal, of painting this average apartment in the best light possible, in hopes of getting your hard earned money out of you.
Thought, she's not even able to get a letter out, before receiving a comment from the voice she knows well by now.
"If I may, Mrs. . . ." Your boyfriend reminds you both of his presence. The s of the Mrs. let's dragged out for an embarrassingly long time, Michael clearly, still not remembering the name of the real estate’s agents, even through the countless times he's been reminded of it.
"Wilson." The answer leaves her mouth rather harshly. By this time she has to be probably thinking that he's doing it deliberately. Having some kind of twisted fun out of spitting her out this way.
"Right . . ., well, I just have one small comment." This sentence earns Michael a nasty glare from Mrs. Wilson.
"What's heaving your hearth down this time, Mr. Afton?" The smile on her face turns wider. It does the exact opposite of what she must have intended to. Only showing her annoyance with him more obviously.
Even a person who would just walk in could tell, that this wasn't going to be his first comment of the day.
"The front door are leading straight to the living room, as you pointed out. Which, would make it easier for possible intruder, to get access to the while layout."
Just as it seem that's all from him, he continues.
"And not to mention, that if we were spending time in the kitchen or living room, it wouldn't give us enough time to react to the said intruder. Which could lead us to be harmed."
Mrs. Wilson breathes in loudly thought her nose, trying to keep the anger directed at Michael only to herself.
Michael has to be, what you would call, a real estate’s worst nightmare. The way he can find some problem in everything Mrs. Wilson has to say, could be considered a super power. And today the least, he's not shy when it comes to pointing it out.
Though, a skill like this is really practical, as even you find it satisfying, watching a real estate agent trying to find an excuse, while aiming to keep that fake smile plastered, it does get to a point when it gets inconvenient.
Half of the 'comments' Michael makes are frankly stupid. Not even making sense most of the time. With each of the "problems" he manages to find, it becomes more apparent that he isn't that found of at the thought of finding a new place to inhabiting.
But, what the average eye will miss, us that there is much more deeper reason, than just a simple "I don't like change".
It's something even you don't know.
Something, you're not sure, if he wants you to know.
However, you come here with one goal in mind, more than determined to achieve it. The goal being, find a new place where both of you will be happy.
Nothing is going to stop you from reaching it. Not even your boyfriend.
Although for that time happen, you'll need to make sure the said boyfriend will also feel comfortable with your new choice of living space.
"Michael . . . Honey," your hand finds itself on Michael's shoulder: "it's the same as our apartment."
If you can really talk that tiny room an apartment.
"Plus, this one has a decided bedroom, making it safer. Right Mrs. Wilson?" Your head turns to germs, trying to help her, while at the same time reassure Michael.
"Exactly, we'll get to that right after the kitchen." Her fake smile now becomes less irritated, as she's making her way to the kitchen.
You can see Michael opening his mouth again, to, what you assume, point out another problem.
Thought one look into your eyes that have "please don't" written all over them, and your thumb softly stroking his shoulder, is all that makes him rethink his decision.
Both pairs of your legs make their way to the kitchen, to listen to the rest of the apartment's tour.
All the ramblings about the perks of the kitchen later, you have made it to the bedroom, at last.
Your mind has been wandering off most of the time, focusing on Michael instead.
He might not be making any comments right now, however, that won't make him magically, suddenly want to move to a new place. There has to be a place to convince him about the new apartment.
If only you could get some time alone with him here.
It's almost as if some kind of strange all-knowing forces have heard your wishes.
Out of nowhere, something starts buzzing in Mrs. Wilson's pocket, stopping her in a monolog about how spacious the bedroom is. An awkward chuckle escapes her as she takes out her flip-phone, putting it back as quickly as she took it out.
"Well, as I was saying-" Yet again, the buzzing in her pocket doesn't let her finish her sentence. The ersatz grin she's trying to keep plastered on her face starts to fade away a little.
Her hands find the flip-phone once again. This time, her eyes check the screen, her smile fully disappearing. You could, as well, see a glimpse of worry in her eyes, realizing that it probably has to be pretty important.
"Excuse me, I'll have to take this phone call real quick. In the meantime, feel free to explore the apartment on your own." With these words, she leaves the two of them alone, venturing into the apartment block's hall.
A heavy sight leaves Michael, almost as if a huge burden has just left him.
Now it's the time, you need to talk to him.
Michael's gaze follows you, as you softly seat yourself on the double bed. Your hand pats on the bed, calling him to join you. After a second of hesitation he moves his body towards you, the bed beside you shifting soon.
You can feel him writhing on the bed, trying to make himself comfortable, before he finally speaks up.
"The mattress is too firm."
"We can buy a different one." You answer him calmly. Even now, when the two of you are all by yourself, he's finding problems in here.
It was just recently that you graduated from university. And with the graduation, came the end of living in dorms.
Your family wasn't living anywhere that nearby, so that wasn't really a choice.
As much as you love your friends, even you can agree that sharing a place with most of them would be a living nightmare.
And then there was Michael.
Don't you have been together for almost 2 years by now, you didn't really took him into an consideration dad match. It wasn't that you wouldn't like to live with him, oh no, it was the exact opposite.
You'd love to share a place with him. But at the same time, the last thing you'd want to do is him uncomfortable by pushing his boundaries. So it was, to say the least, a surprise to you, when he was the one who brought it up.
“If you want, you could . . . move And with me.” You recall him offering, his smirked visible, however his hands and legs slightly shaking from the fear of saying something wrong.
After an enthusiastic ‘yes’ and a couple of weeks, what it was said was also done. It wasn't your first time being at his place. God knows that you spend countless nights there. (And it's also, most probably, not happy about it, according to some of your relatives.) So at first, you thought that there wouldn't be anything that new. And you were right, about the first night at least.
The first week was . . . okay. It wasn't as bad as you thought it would be. You were still just getting used to your new home. Although, by the second week, you are sick of all of this.
Unlike most of your acquaintance would think, it wasn't as much as Michael's bad habits (which there are a few), as much as it was the living space itself. The fact that the living room/bedroom/kitchen wouldn't be that much of a bad fact if it wasn't for all the things Michael has hoarded in there.
Like really?! How does one need so many boxes of Freddy Fazdbear’s pizzerias merch?!
And not to mention all the technical problems his apartment has. Perhaps also a little bit of mold in the tiny bathroom. For how much he tends to give you a hard time for not taking good care of yourself, he sure doesn't apply the same rules to himself.
As soon as the 3rd week came, you were already looking through all kind of newspapers for possible apartments. (Preferably one with a basement, to staff all the Freddy Fazdbear merch there.)
At first, Michael just looked at you confused. It's safe to say that he didn't think much of it. Though, as soon as you started to talk about checking them, he tried to dodge the subject faster than a speeding bullet. However, in the end, you didn't manage to get him to tentatively Agreed to check out a few of them. Having to push his boundaries a little at the end of the day.
After all, it's just like your aunt always used to say: “you won't get anywhere if you want to step out of your comfort zone.”
“This has to be the best choice we have seen so far, don't ‘cha think?” Only a hushed hmm, can be heard from Michael's side. But after that, there's nothing more, on the silence. The natural sunlight coming from outside lights up the room, making it clear that summer has just began.
“I saw that there's a lake nearby.” Your hand finds its way onto Michaels, slowly starting to stroke it softly. Soon he sickened him also finds itself on yours. He's founder of the affection, as long as it's from you. He's eyes gaze into yours, already awaiting your next words. He knows that you know this something, like you do most of the time.
“Michael, is something wrong?” Your words echo right into his ears, as you continue caressing his hand. A stupid question, you know, however, after all the years of friendships and your immigrant family dramas Had taught you, that it's always better to start conversation this way.
That is, if you want to learn something useful.
No answer coming from him. However, his silence tells you more than a million words. Squeeze his hand, lightly. In the end, he does end up giving you a note, even if it's a small one period
“Do you wanna talk about it?” You know this him bite his lower lip for a few seconds, while at the same time his muscles stiffen a little. Silence over floods the whole room, the only thing that you can hear, being just both of your breathings.
His case slowly moves away from you, turning his face to stare at his own next. He takes a deep breath, getting ready to say something, but it seems as if the words got stuck in his throat.
“Hone-“
“It has to do something with my family.” The words leave his mouth rather unpleasantly. His face still averting your gaze.
You know what he means By those words, and yet, at the same time you don't.
Michael has always been so secretive about his past, which also includes his family. Whenever this topic was brought up only you your voice could be heard talking while Michael was just listening with attentiveness.
From little you managed to have picked up, He's not in contact with any of them, and has at least one sibling. Though you're still not sure if it's brother or sister.
“The less you know, the safer you are." His words echo in your head once in a while. You were never too nosy about it, but after this sentence left his mouth, you fully stopped asking. Even though how close you two have become over the course of your relationship, There are still a myriad of things about him that are a mystery to you. And as much as you would love to change that, both of you know that it won't be happening.
Or at least not happening in the near future.
However, even through all these facts, I figured that it's still worth at least a try.
“Do you want to evolve more?” He hums to you a no yeah exactly like you expected. His head finally turns back to yours. You can catch a feigned glimpse of a tiny tears creating at the corner of his eyes.
The expression on your face starts to show signs of concern. Your right hand moves up to his face, gently capping his cheek. Tenderly, your dumb brushes all the way down from his jaw, right to the corner of his eye, wiping the tiny tear away. Your mouth opens planning to call his name, but the only letter that manages to escape is a muffled M, before Michael pulls your face closer to his, catching your lips in a loving kiss.
Your left hand also finds its way onto Michael's cheek, before moving further and warping around his neck, which in the process also pulls him closer. You melt into the kiss, enjoying it will lasts. Though, in the end, you're the one who decides to part your lips away, slowly pulling back.
A small frown appears on his face, clearly not Bing founder of you bringing the kids to an end so early. You are not able to stop the giggle escaping from your lips, upon seeing that expression of his. Although the giggle gets quickly replaced by a surprised gasp, as you suddenly feel Michael's head on your thighs. He nozzles his nose into your right thigh, Pickling gear a little, meanwhile you start playing with his hair. It's already messy, losing degrees he slicks it neatly, most of the time with.
Both of you enjoy the moment of quietness wild lasts, before you initially decide to break it: “Are you sure you don't wanna talk about it? You know, not battling appears struggled can really help.” You can feel him shift a little after you finish the sentence.
“No. I already told you, I don't . . . Want you to get tangled up with the miss did my family is.”
“We're dating, I think I'm already kind of dangled up with your family.” You point out, giving him a soft smile.
“I know,” a hint of sorrow can be heard in his voice: “you could do so much better.” His lips lever wet kiss on the back of your hand. Though at those words you swiftly pulled away, lightly hitting him in the head. It's no surprise you aren't fond of him saying things along these lines.
“Don't ‘cha say that Michael!” Your head returns to his hair, your fingers compassionately running through it, perhaps even tickling it.
“I love you, you know that?” Your nose nestles into his hair, Leaving a quick kiss there.
“Michael?” There's still one problem you need to resolve today.
“Hmmm?”
“Isn't there way, you could tell me what's bothering you without tangling me up with your family?” Silence returns again for a few seconds, before you can hear a sight escape him.
“It's just . . .” You stop running your hand through his hair, noticing that he's struggling putting his thoughts into words.
“It's okay, take your time.” You whisper into his ear, reassuring him. His chest rises, taking a deep breath in and letting it out lengthy, and in the process calming his nerves.
“It's just, I've lived there for long time. My . . .” He stops and so does his breathing, unsure if he should really continue. “My father arranged me to live there. Everything there was controlled by him.” His eyes have a glum look to them, giving you a hint that this is as far, as you're going to learn for him.
Well at least for today.
Though there isn't that much to go from, you at least figured part of the problem.
“So, if I understand correctly, your father is the one standing in your way?” Your eyes catch him biting his lower lip, carefully considering his next words.
“No, he's not . . . An issue anymore.” There's no way of you knowing if he's implying that his father is just out of the picture, or over already on the other side. Well played Michael. Perhaps you could learn more, but at the same time you don't want to push him harder.
The fact that he even told you this much is a miracle. Plus, not to mention that he most probably wouldn't tell you more.
“What I meant by that, about the apartment, is that . . . I-I don’t think I have it in me to leave that place behind.” He tries to make it more clearer for you.
Oh, okay, now you understand better.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize, it’s not your fault.” You lips leave a kiss, this time on his forehead. “Although, I think it could be a change for the better. Moving into a new place would also mean leaving your fathers grip. That could help a lot.”
You notice that his pupils had wandered off into another direction, averting your gaze. He's still not fully convinced, you can sense it.
Maybe you shouldn't be pushing it so hard.
A sight leaves you.
"We don't have to move if you don't feel comfortable with it." As much as you'd hate the thought of staying in the shoe box, the thought that you hate more is of Michael feeling unpleasant in your own home.
"Are you happy?" Michael's voice takes you out of your thoughts.
Are you happy is such a general question. So at least, you try your best to answer it in your capabilities.
"Of course I am, you have to be the best roommate I ever had." You chuckle a little at your own comment.
"I meant, if your happy at our current place?" You aren't, you know that well by now. But if Michael is . . .
"I am-"
"Don't lie to me." his hand moves up towards your face and his thumb starts soothingly rubbing your lower lip.
"I noticed how you act," he's really good at watching and noticing small things, you know that from the back of your mind now: "how you feel, you . . . don't feel comfortable in that place." Your mind went blank at his words, not a single idea what your next move should be.
The warmness of Michael's body disappears with him as he sits back up next to you.
"Do you like this place?" He asks.
"Hm? Oh, yeah, I do. It looks nice, feels really homey." A delicate smile appears on your face.
"Do you think, that if we lived here, I would also grow to like it?" The words escape him slowly.
"Mi-"
"No, you're right. If I want to get out of my father’s grip I need to move on. Though, I don't think I'll like any apartment just after a short tour." His face turns back to your: "So, if you'd like to live in here, so would I."
The smile on your face grows larger, already giving Michael the answer he's awaiting. Your hands wrap around his neck for you to steal a quick kiss, which wraps up right before the real estate lady returns.
"I'm sorry for the delay." That fake smile appears back on her face. However, it turns to a larger, surprised one as she hears out your next words: "That's fine. We'll be taking the apartment." Her eyes lighting up, looking at you as if you have done some kind of miracle.
Prehabs, putting a spell on Michael.
Thought, none of you really bother noticing, both of your minds occupied with the thoughts of your future in here.