Author: Miri
Tittle: Desperate Now
Disclaimer: I don't own them.
Rating: PG-13
Classification: Michael/Maria. I don't mention their names in the text, but that's who they are. Warning: angst ahead.
Spoilers: For Independence Day. Sort of.
Distribution: Guilty Pleasures, anyone that has my stuff already, anyone else, just ask:)
Feedback: Please? :)
Dedication: To Courtney, my Beta Goddess.
I'm supposed to be asleep. I have school in the
morning, and I really should be sleeping. I don't care.
I'll be up all night, like most nights, thinking about
him. I can't help myself. I just lay here in my bed,
pining for him.
It's so very quiet at night. I wish there was some
kid blasting music, anything, just to keep this silence
away. I hate this silence. It really bothers me. But,
I do nothing about it. I listen to the eerie calm instead,
getting so lost in it that I never hear the window
open, never hear him crawl inside. It is his
touch that startles me.
A hand on my back, as I face away from the window,
alerts me to his presence. I don't need to turn around
to know it is him. My ghost. Only this time he's
no ghost. That's flesh I feel. And something sticky.
Oh, God, is that blood? I turn to look at him.
Not only is it blood, but, get this, he's crying.
A bruise covers his left eye. Blood oozes from
a cut on his lip, and the blood that I felt, on his hand,
was generated by a gash down his arm.
He won't say a word about what happened. I know that,
he knows that, so I won't bother asking. Instead, I raise
my arms and he walks towards them. Into them. I move
the blankets so he can slip under them with me, and we are
locked in an embrace. And I let him cry.
His tears fall at a steady pace, and he wants to turn away
from me, I can tell. He doesn't want me to see him cry,
he associates crying with weakness. I honestly don't
care. He is no weak individual, just a man that was dealt
a tough hand in life.
So, we lay here, him in my arms, his arms around me.
His breathing is quick, and difficult, like he's trying to hold
back the sobs. Don't hold back, I want to tell him,
let it go. Just let it go. But I can't bring myself to speak,
break the spell. He really needs this. And then he finally lets
go, as if he could read my thoughts. He's sobbing wholeheartedly
now. It hurts, I know.
My arms tighten around him, and I feel him shaking.
God, his pain affects me. I kiss his forehead. There is
nothing for me to do except be here for him.
I'm glad he came to me. He can always come to me.
Eventually, his cries subside, and he stops shaking.
I still don't let go, I'll never let go. I hope he knows that,
I want him to know that. Exhausted, he falls asleep.
I'm glad that he is sleeping, it's a welcome respite from the pain.
I'm drifting off too. And I know that I'll never be the same again.
Because now he's truly a part of me, and I'm a part of him.
End
February 10, 2000
Tittle: Desperate Now
Disclaimer: I don't own them.
Rating: PG-13
Classification: Michael/Maria. I don't mention their names in the text, but that's who they are. Warning: angst ahead.
Spoilers: For Independence Day. Sort of.
Distribution: Guilty Pleasures, anyone that has my stuff already, anyone else, just ask:)
Feedback: Please? :)
Dedication: To Courtney, my Beta Goddess.
I'm supposed to be asleep. I have school in the
morning, and I really should be sleeping. I don't care.
I'll be up all night, like most nights, thinking about
him. I can't help myself. I just lay here in my bed,
pining for him.
It's so very quiet at night. I wish there was some
kid blasting music, anything, just to keep this silence
away. I hate this silence. It really bothers me. But,
I do nothing about it. I listen to the eerie calm instead,
getting so lost in it that I never hear the window
open, never hear him crawl inside. It is his
touch that startles me.
A hand on my back, as I face away from the window,
alerts me to his presence. I don't need to turn around
to know it is him. My ghost. Only this time he's
no ghost. That's flesh I feel. And something sticky.
Oh, God, is that blood? I turn to look at him.
Not only is it blood, but, get this, he's crying.
A bruise covers his left eye. Blood oozes from
a cut on his lip, and the blood that I felt, on his hand,
was generated by a gash down his arm.
He won't say a word about what happened. I know that,
he knows that, so I won't bother asking. Instead, I raise
my arms and he walks towards them. Into them. I move
the blankets so he can slip under them with me, and we are
locked in an embrace. And I let him cry.
His tears fall at a steady pace, and he wants to turn away
from me, I can tell. He doesn't want me to see him cry,
he associates crying with weakness. I honestly don't
care. He is no weak individual, just a man that was dealt
a tough hand in life.
So, we lay here, him in my arms, his arms around me.
His breathing is quick, and difficult, like he's trying to hold
back the sobs. Don't hold back, I want to tell him,
let it go. Just let it go. But I can't bring myself to speak,
break the spell. He really needs this. And then he finally lets
go, as if he could read my thoughts. He's sobbing wholeheartedly
now. It hurts, I know.
My arms tighten around him, and I feel him shaking.
God, his pain affects me. I kiss his forehead. There is
nothing for me to do except be here for him.
I'm glad he came to me. He can always come to me.
Eventually, his cries subside, and he stops shaking.
I still don't let go, I'll never let go. I hope he knows that,
I want him to know that. Exhausted, he falls asleep.
I'm glad that he is sleeping, it's a welcome respite from the pain.
I'm drifting off too. And I know that I'll never be the same again.
Because now he's truly a part of me, and I'm a part of him.
End
February 10, 2000
