Summary : You’re unsure why it’s you that he chooses to keep company with.
A/N : This isn’t anything requested, something I know I should be working on. It’s a drabble I need to write. I’ll get back to regular posting soon. Thanks for your patience. ❤
You watch him do what he always does. Playing the room. Over these past few years your Michael Langdon has made it an art. With a flick of his long fingers, a wave of his strong hand, he can manipulate the air in the atmosphere – leaving everyone gasping, clawing at themselves to be set free, something they never knew they needed until he showed up. It’s his nature, he says, his abilities adapting to his own craft.
You don’t disagree, far too enchanted by his growth, his ever-stunning appearances. You might have been his closest confidant since you were both younger, but he never fails to surprise you. Though lately, with his mission coming to full fruition – you’re left in a typically cliche spot. What if the devil doesn’t want you on his playground? You’d been losing more and more of Michael’s attention, especially when he was within the vicinity of the robotic remake of Miriam Mead.
You are starting to doubt if you’d live through all this. Michael might chose Mead, robot or not. It only adds to the stacked list of plaguing pathetic thoughts grating your brain every waking moment.
Not good enough. Too hideous. Simple servant. Why am I still here? Why me? Why anything? Why didn’t I try to die in the blasts?
You used to think you had purpose. That meeting Michael and consoling him was part of that. That putting aside everything you knew, all of your fears, sacrificing your sanity to help him, be with him as he achieved his goal – was your half of destiny. But you had to have been wrong. All so fucking wrong.
You lift your head at hearing him speak, his head tilted as he mutters something to Venable, whose dark plum lips curl into a smirk. His interviews are almost finished, but he roams and converses in between, not using that time to seek you out. Some of the others sneered at you, pitying you his weakling helper. Maybe they’re right. Maybe they can see that you’re so blatantly in love with him that you’ll do whatever he asks, whatever it takes to assure his safety and happiness, and your place at his side?
He’s closer to her now, his fingers flicking at her purple earring. Something he does to you when you wear a piece of jewelry. An act of intimacy you thought rare and sacred. You come to realize you’ve just opened the door to all those monstrous voices, coasting on a black abyss. They wrap their sharp wired flesh around you, punching the air raw from your burning lungs.
You plead out in silence for Michael, hoping your connection still rings. He doesn’t budge, simply pulling Venable to the side. You’re dizzy, that set of shakes starting to step across your organs, twisting your vision into sharp blurs. You won’t embarrass him, you can’t do this here. You need him, but he’s gone, he’s never yours. You’re an idiot.
Your palms double into fists, seizing with the rest of you, that turns on your booted heels, scrambling out of the dining hall, across the parlor, into the stairwell entry of the main room. You ignore the robot, whom you bump into, knuckles slamming down to hold you up as you crawl your way to the landing. It’s all come to a head. Reality of a loss you haven’t had yet, but that looms its searing, contorted face. You ghost past elites, your door zoning far away, making you slam into the wood when you do reach it.
Once you’ve got it open you’re struggling out of your heavy coat, peeling your layers of designer clothing off. You can’t fool anyone. You’re a fucking sheep, a lamb for slaughter even. You’ve let this go on too long. You’ll go.
Leave all these pretty things Michael got you and just disappear, like you should have a long time ago. This place is feeding, sucking your energy off you like a thick leech. Every bad and cruel thing said to you, every dark time, every fuck up, it’s all holding hands with the darkness, the violent panic. Michael isn’t your savior, because you’re nothing to him. You’re not a strong woman he admires, even if he hates.
You are limitlessly invisible.
This notion has you curling your hand around your throat, your other hand smacking over your mouth to stifle your sobs. You begin to sway back and forth, trembling, losing reality. You’re ready to fade into what you are : nothing. Hollow. Forever.
And that’s when one single touch silences the creatures and their vile battle cries against you. Your vision clears through a mess of tears, eyes open and seeing his sparkling blues, slick with moisture that’s escaped down his cheeks. You hate seeing him hurt. What’s happened? You were so lost in your danger that you left him.
Reaching for his face, you cradle it, thumb swiping the water away. He’s shaking his head, as if you truly don’t understand any one thing. You’re confused, letting him lead you to his bed, where he brings you into his lap.
“How could think I’d want that dried up, self-loathing bitch? How could you let yourself hurt for this long and not tell me?”
Did you speak your panic attack out loud? As if Michael can hear you, he shakes his head, lips wet, voice raspy with emotion. “I feel your heart, Y/N. I feel your heart because you are a part of mine, don’t you understand this?” He grips your fingers in his, bringing them to his mouth to run across his face, peppering with feather light kisses that make you ache, a cry pressing past your lips.
“I don’t want any world without you in it. Because I’m not a man without my girl, I’m not truly me if I’m not whole, and I am only able to carry on if you’re breathing right beside me. And if you weren’t, I’d travel to find you, bringing you back to life each fucking time.” He’s nudging your forehead, your body plummeting into a whole new realm.
Your heartbeat stutters, then re-starts, galloping full speed ahead. You watch in slow motion, Michael bending to his knee in front of you, sliding a black box from his dinner jacket, revealing a diamond inside. You begin to bawl, Michael tilting your chin with a stern thumb. “I had the cokeheads make this for you, back before everything began, even before Mead was created. I planned to ask you once our world was truly ready for us, but you need to know that I’ve always intended to be with you now. I want the new world to begin with you, Y/N.”
“Michael, love.” His heart has been yours all this time.
“If I’ve ever needed someone,” Michael breaks, tone cracking, holding you so close. “It’s always been you.”
The demons in your head bow down to their master, silenced. You don’t have to be asked yet, nor do you speak. You let Michael slide that ring onto your finger, both of you collapsing into one another.
Toad's Cave 