Part 15

One hour later...

Michael turns the key and opens his apartment door. I don't feel comfortable with the whole situation and I look back into the hallway to make sure that nobody has seen us.

He kicks the door shut behind us, takes my hand and leads me to the bathroom. "You're taking a bath now to get warm, okay? After that, I´m gonna make you something to eat."

Michael sits down on the edge of the tub and turns on the faucet. The moisture from the warm water rises as he pours some bubble bath into it. Then he stands up, grabs a big towel from the shelf and comes over to me again. "Stay in there as long as you want."

He leaves the bathroom and I stare at the closed door a moment longer, before I strip my clothes off and let my body sink into the warm water. I sigh and close my eyes.

Thirty minutes later, the water is getting cold and I decide that it's time to step out. I secure the towel around my body and walk over to the mirror. He was right – I do look horrible. There are bags under my eyes, my skin looks pale and my lips are raw from the cold.

There is a soft knock on the door. "You can come in," I reply.

I watch Michael in the mirror as he carefully opens the door. "You need somethin' to wear? I brought a t-shirt and some boxer shorts for you."

He comes toward me, sets the clothes down on the sink and looks at my reflection in the mirror from behind me.

"Thank you."

He nods as his gaze roams further and stops at the light bruise, courtesy of Billy's painful grip on my shoulder this afternoon. I know that he wants to ask me about it, but he stays silent and bites his tongue. I can see the muscles of his neck tighten. "I've got some frozen lasagna, you want some?"

"I love lasagna." A small smile escapes my lips.

He slightly smiles back at me and then I watch him leave.

I have to tell him the truth.

***

I enter the living room after putting on Michael's clothes.

"Have a seat on the couch. The lasagna still needs some time in the oven."

"Okay." I slip down on the sofa and watch him moving around in the kitchen. He's doing the dishes or something.

Okay, DeLuca, time to take your courage in both hands.

"Michael?" I ask hesitantly.

He turns around. "Yeah?"

"Can we talk?" My voice sounds uneasy.

"Sure!" He leans his weight on the counter and looks at me in expectation.

I breathe out and sit up straight. "I...It´s not so easy for me, you know... to tell you all these things." My gaze drops to the ground because I'm uncertain and nervous. "Look, there are a few things in my life... that really suck." I gulp for air and try to go on, but no words escape my lips.

Michael leaves the kitchen and comes over to the couch. He grabs a blanket from the armchair, wraps it around me and sits down beside me. "Tell me why you can't go home tonight, Maria."

I nod and try to find a point where I can start. "The door was locked and I couldn't get in after I left Billy's apartment.

"Billy? You were with Billy?" he asks, sounding a little alarmed.

"I had no choice. He came by school today and said he'll come and get me when I don't come to his apartment."

"Did he hurt you?"

I lift my gaze to meet his eyes. My fingers are pulling the collar of his t-shirt, which I'm wearing, to the side, to show him the bruise on my shoulder again.

Michael clenches his fists. "Anywhere else?" He says with gritted teeth.

I shake my head. "No."

"Why'd he want you to come to his place?"

"The others were there, too. He just wanted to let us know that he had seen you on the street and that you've almost recovered. He told us to be careful."

"He'd better be careful!" Michael growls. "I'm gonna beat the shit out of him."

"Michael, no!" I grab his arm and look at him directly. "No! He's dangerous and he will kill you. And I... I don't want to lose you."

He stares at me for a few seconds and then changes the subject. "Tell me what happened later, when you got home."

"Like I said, I couldn't get in."

"You lost your key or something?"

"No. There was another key in the lock from the inside. I couldn't unlock the door from the outside."

"But if there was a key on the inside... somebody had to be at home, right?" He furrows his brow.

I laugh bitterly. "Yeah, my drunk mother and George."

"George?"

"My mom's bimbo. He hates me and he wants to get rid of me. I didn't know my real father…"

"Was he the one who slapped you the day we met in the park?"

"Yeah," I croak and look at my hands.

"Damn it," he half-screams, and then struggles for control again.

"Sorry. It's just... I can't believe that they're beating you."

"It's okay," I answer softly.

"No, it's not okay."

"Well, anyway, back to the original story. They didn't let me in and there's no other place I could've gone." I try to suppress the tears I can feel coming on.

He wraps his arm around me and pulls me against his chest. "My mom doesn't care about me anymore. It's so cold in my room, because they shut our gas off and we have nothing to eat. She wastes all the money on alcohol."

I have to stop for a moment because there is a lump in my throat. I have to calm down. Michael threads his fingers through my hair and squeezes my body against him.

"I have no money and I can't get a job. I've tried, but I'm under 18 – they need the permission of a parent and as you can imagine, I can't exactly take my drunk mother to an appointment to sign the papers."

I lean back to gaze into his eyes. "Thank you for letting me stay here tonight."

"I wish I could do more," he answers pensively.

I shake my head. "No, don't ever think that. It's more than enough." I let my body sink back against his chest and feel it rise and fall with his every breath. I want to lay my hand on his stomach, but hesitate. Would it still hurt him?

He seems to read my mind and lifts his shirt a bit – revealing a large bandage. "It's not so bad anymore."

"Billy! That motherfuckin' coward!"

"I'm right there with you." He pulls his t-shirt down again and his hand remains at the hem. I stare at it for a while before I muster the courage to place my hand over his and my fingers slide between his.

"What's next, Michael? Because I really don't know," I admit quietly.

He squeezes my hand lightly. "We'll figure something out. For now, you should eat your lasagna."

***

"I'm so tired," I murmur and shift my position on the couch.

"Wanna go to bed?"

"Uh-huh!"

He goes to the bathroom first, then it's my turn. I stand up and stumble to the bathroom sleepily.

"You wanna sleep in the bed? I can take the couch!" he calls from the living room.

I dry my hands, turn around, and pause at the entryway. "Sleep with me in the bed?" I ask shyly.

"Okay." Michael starts to pull his shirt off and grimaces in pain. He loosens the bandage from his stomach and I can see the still-tender scars where Billy wounded him. He takes a tube of salve from the shelf next to him, but it falls out of his hands and under the bed.

"Shit," he swears quietly.

I slowly walk over to him and stop him from kneeling down on the floor. "Let me help you," I say softly, and pick the salve up from the floor.

"Lie down," I tell him.

"Maria, you don't have to ..."

"Stop talking and lie down," I repeat calmly.

This time he obeys and stretches out on the blankets. I open the little tube and prewarm the salve on my fingers before I brush it against the wounds on his stomach.

"Does it still hurt much?"

"No, it's fine." Michael answers.

I look at him doubtfully. "Don't lie to me."

"It gets better every day. Don't worry."

"Okay, I'm done. Sit up, so I can put a new bandage over those wounds."

I support him as he lifts his upper body from the bed. "Raise your arms a little."
I wrap the bandage around his stomach.

He winces in pain. "Too tight?" I ask.

"No, just right. Thank you."

We stare at each other in silence and I sink into his deep brown eyes. My hand still rests on his shoulder and I can feel his warm, soft skin beneath my fingertips.

'Take your hand away,' my mind screams, but I just sit there frozen. His gaze roams to my mouth and it makes me gasp.

Oh my God, is he going to kiss me?

My heart races with this realization. I've never thought about it. Do I want to kiss him? Maybe...

Suddenly we hear sounds from the apartment below. "Max and Liz are coming home," he declares and lays down. "Don't worry, Max won't show up."

I nod and lie down, too. A little disappointment courses through my body and I close my eyes as I imagine what a kiss from Michael would have felt like.