Michonne wasn't surprised by the familiar knock on her apartment door. She alluded the three beat signal against the cedar wood to fate and familiarity. It was the only explanation she could provide for Rick's timely arrival. In a swift motion she rose from the couch, brushing her tears away. She had cried herself a river that evening, drifting between a loose tear here and there, to a full on Viola Davis snot bubble kind of wail, but she'd rather hurt a little now than a lot later, so she let it all out.
Michonne reached for the white panel door, letting out a sigh of relief. There wasn't any need to camouflage the pain in her throat, Rick knew her in ways that was most times revealing, even to herself.
"Hi." She leaned her head on the ledge of the door, shoving her toes into the soft maroon colored carpet, treasuring the warmth she found there. She tried to suppress the sudden heat in her body, but her appreciation for Rick's cool cucumber look in his black henley and black denim jeans was giving her all the wrong reasons to lust after her friend, despite her grief. She hated that he looked like he should've been somebody's Friday night while she was already a wreck.
"You alright?" His drawl was thick; it fell over her like a warm blanket.
"Could be better." There was an expected calm that settled over her at the sight of him and the rich tenor of his voice.
"Gotcha somethin'." Rick lifted both his hands, showing offerings of a bottle of her favorite wine and two packs of her favorite popcorn.
He walked towards the kitchen, knowing her apartment just as well as she knew his two bedroom country style house. She even had a key for when he was out of town so she could get in to feed the fish she had bought for him.
Michonne padded over to her comfy, cream colored sofa, knowing Rick was right behind her. She grabbed a throw pillow to her chest and tucked her socked feet underneath her to get comfortable.
"How did it go? Was it what you thought?" After the noisy opening of cupboard doors, along with some fidgeting in the kitchen, Rick stalked towards the living room, handing Michonne a glass of wine. He knew red was her favorite. He sat opposite her on the sofa and tried to follow a regular breathing pattern as he watched her full lips take in her first sip.
"It was a disaster." Like El Nino brewing in the Pacific Ocean or an earthquake hitting an unsuspecting city.
"Where is he?" Rick's husky night voice grew serious in tone, his eyebrows furrowed intently waiting on her response.
"Gone," Michonne shrugged, he was gone in every sense of the word. "He's gone." Her voice broke, unable to minimize the hurt in her throat at Mike's sudden exit from her apartment, from her life.
She was trying to rationalize her pain, trying to pinpoint the true catalyst to her sadness. Michonne wasn't mourning the loss of Mike in her life too much, it was the tragedy of embracing loneliness again that burdened her.
It didn't matter, Rick was here now, she knew he would make her pain go away.
Her mind already wasn't as muddled as it was before nor was her heart feeling like it was breaking into a thousand pieces anymore.
"Tell me what happened?" Rick asked, caressing her thigh, coaxing her in his own special way, reminding her she was in a safe space to share.
She knew exactly what happened, Mike had been a stand in for Rick. Not that he could ever stand in Rick's out of place cowboy boots, but he was a generic brand of company that helped to ease her loneliness.
Plain and simple, Mike helped her to forget how much she wanted Rick. Somehow, at some point in time she convinced herself that if Rick didn't feel the same way, their friendship would irrevocably change. She couldn't take the risk of losing Rick like that. In retrospect she was asking herself if she revealed her heart to him what exactly did she have to lose? If he didn't see her in that light, the most that could be taken away was his Netflix password, and maybe her pride.
These were the things Michonne didn't like to ponder on, the thoughts she had pushed to the back of her mind in the storage unit section.
Mike had been her crutch, her crutch was now gone. When he decided to end things between them a few hours earlier, she wasn't too crushed that he was leaving. It was the harsh reality check that she was gonna be left empty handed and alone that had struck a chord.
Another end to a relationship, another heartbreak away from Rick. She was always separated from him by something.
"He said we weren't making sense anymore, that we didn't like the same things and that maybe we should take a break." Michonne shrugged as she recalled her and Mike's candid conversation. She knew their time was coming to a close, she just didn't think it would've been today. Funny that the dichotomy of what drew them together had now pulled them far apart.
It was a lame excuse in hindsight, but she didn't fight it. She didn't want to because she was tired of living a lie. She was tired of pretending to love Mike when she knew it was the idea of love that she was so hooked on.
"Well, he didn't lie, did he?" Rick placed his glass on the clear coffee table in front of them, wanting to reach out to dry the tears that were still on her cheeks despite her present composure. He was trying to be a good listening ear, but what he really wanted to do was kick Mike in his ass for letting tears touch Michonne's beautiful face. He was glad he was gone.
Rick had kept hope alive for love after Lori cheated on him. Soon after, Michonne entered his life, he was immediately enamored by her aura. Yet she remained like a goal out of his reach. He tried not to be jealous of her boyfriend Adam back then, tried to move on but she ended up being the measuring stick for the few girls he dated. They all failed, no fault of theirs.
He still chose to believe he would have a chance one day. When Mike came on the scene he had convinced himself he'd never get that chance, but even crippling hope dies a slow death.
Michonne deserved better, she deserved him. They had known each other for four years now. She had been Maggie's friend first but he had stolen her for his own. The joke was on him though, because she had stolen his heart from the getgo with a smile that was brighter than the moon, and a laugh that warmed him like a glass of brandy. The closer they became as friends, the more his heart was hooked on making her his. He thought she felt the same for a brief moment but then Mike arrived and he realized he was wrong about what he thought she felt for him. He had moved on from it, at least he tried to.
It was no secret that he and Mike didn't get along, for obvious reasons. Mike was a smart guy but he was a show off. Rick didn't buy into his whole broadway act that kept him not only popular, but trendy. In his opinion he was a fashionable narcissist at best. He was the type of guy he thought Michonne would've never been into but he was wrong about that too.
Soon after Mike started working in Atlanta, he and Michonne became a thing, while he was still struggling with the quandary of breaking up with Jessie, knowing how fragile she could be. Love couldn't be awaken by empty connections. He had learned his lesson, opting to remain free from being less than genuine with any girl who had her eyes on him.
Mike was gone now, he hoped he kept it moving like Johnnie walker. He couldn't feel too bad for Michonne, it was a fitting break for a relationship filled with so many cracks. Now she was deep in the dugout of despair and he was thinking maybe now was a good time to take his shot.
He didn't like seeing her this sad, not when her eyes were usually sparkling with life and her smile stretched wider than the strip of sand at her favorite beach.
When was the right time to ask if he could have her heart forever? He wished there was some sort of guide; a navigational system guiding him to her. He wondered if something like that existed what would it say?
In three hundred meters tell Michonne you love her.
In five hundred meters tell Michonne you would move the earth to see her smile.
Her voice broke his reverie, he redirected his full attention to her.
"Maybe something's wrong with me? You think?" Michonne was surprised by her question, even more afraid of Rick's response. She was asking him to help define the thing that may have kept her away from him for so long.
"Come here?" He pulled her into his arms, rendering his resolve to not touch her futile. She was normally so well put together, so sure of herself. Now Mike had put doubts in her head and he couldn't not do something about that.
Michonne was always able to open up with Rick. He knew she had the propensity to close herself tighter than a bank vault when faced with an overflow of pain. She was usually in a no fly zone where her emotions were concerned, but not with him.
"There's absolutely nothing wrong with you." He kissed the top of her head, he felt her curvy frame snuggle closer against his hard body.
It wasn't unusual behavior for them, but the small, cream sofa felt smaller.
"It's gonna be weird being the only single one. I'd never hear the end of this from Sasha." Her best friend had just hooked up with Abraham Ford, a recent transplant from Texas who was absolutely smitten with her girl.
"I don't see you being single for long." Certainly not if he had something to say about it. His hand ran up and down the highway of her back. From the smooth feel of her oversized plaid shirt, which was his shirt she stole, he deduced she wasn't wearing a bra. His close fitting jeans felt like he was wearing tights.
"You're perfect." Rick was choosing to see the beauty of where she was rather than be audience to the affliction of not being where she thought she'd be.
He was feeling stifled in a way, wanting to express how he felt about her, but unsure of how to express to her that they could be more than best friends.
Truth was he loved her. He loved her more than the sky loved the moon, and bowls loved spoons. More than trains loved stations, and employees loved vacations.
Michonne rose from where her head rested against his chest, wanting to witness the nakedness she heard in his tone reflecting in his eyes.
"You think I'm perfect?" She was close enough to his face to see a spec of midnight in his sea blue eyes. She loved how long his eyelashes were, and the fact she was close enough to him to see the tiny freckles that dotted his nose.
Rick was looking at her, she felt naked. His gaze was unmoving, like their friendship. Right then and there she was ready to risk it all. She didn't know when the atmosphere around them changed, but there was a spark of something in his eyes.
Something stronger than the both of them, powerful enough to charge the air around them. Whatever it was, was potent enough to pull her in.
"Rick…" His name was a whisper.
He was a beacon of light in the midst of tumultuous seas. A harbor for a ship battered by a storm.
He took her lips in a gentle kiss, but she wasn't too surprised by it. It was tender but his grip on her was strong enough for her to know whatever was happening wasn't fleeting.
She molded herself to him as his grip on her waist grew tighter. She was being fed with his touch, but her malnourished heart needed food too. Her fingers eased into his curls, his tongue plunged into her warm mouth. Michonne moaned with the power of Rick's touch. The tenderness was gone, replaced with a fiery heat that burned through her belly.
She didn't want to put too much thought to it.
What they were doing felt right and a long time coming. At least that's what she hoped Rick thought too. He wasn't saying much in terms of words but he was saying so much with the way his lips claimed hers, the way he was now peppering kisses all down her neck.
She was fidgeting, trying to fit herself on his lap. She wanted to be closer than they'd ever been, but he pulled away suddenly before she could reach her hardened destination.
Rick couldn't take anymore, he had to let go of Michonne's warm body before he possessed her right there on the sofa. He didn't want her to think this was a rebound thing, or that he was a one night stand kind of guy. Or worse, he was taking advantage of her vulnerable state. He wanted her to know he had loved her all along. While he was trying to cheat love there simply was no substitute for her. He loved that she had a weakness for tacos, but complained about gaining weight. He loved that she visited the pound often to play with the dogs, but could never commit to owning one. It was a joy to see her at his childhood home cooking with his lonely father on Sundays.
Rick saw a wicker of hope in Michonne's eyes, maybe now was his chance?
He was going to lay all his cards on the table in hope she would want to play the game of life with him.
"Michonne." Her name was soft on his breath, but the possessive way he held her face in the palm of his hands commandeered all of her attention. "Let me love you." The real way. The right way. The way she deserved.
There was an unmatched devotion in Rick's eyes. A highlight of affection Michonne had never felt with Mike's that made what they had seem small and insignificant.
"Rick? What are you saying?" She wanted to be sure, she needed to know what it felt like to lean on something secure.
"I'm saying I love you Michonne. I've always loved you."
Michonne was smiling now, she didn't think so much happiness could stem from a day filled with so much sadness.
"I love you too Rick." She felt awkward saying it, but it was the truth. Rick grinned back at her, relief and joy competing on his face. Her hand brushed the three day stubble on his face, giddy with the feeling that after all this time of sharing him with others he was now all hers. She forgot how ejected she was feeling before Rick came.
As he continued to unbutton the plaid shirt she wore she smiled, her heart was now too full to be broken.