Finding a way back.
"How is he?"
"He was asleep last I checked on him." A pause. "He looks really sick."
"He's going through withdrawals, El. And if he just quit... This is nothing compared to how he'll be."
Suddenly the voices got quiet, and Michael opens his eyes very slightly. As soon as he does so, however, he regrets it as the sunlight that's managed to make its way in through the curtains heighten his headache. Waking up in Elise's house was not exactly something he had expected to ever do, but he had told Orlando he'd stay there so he wouldn't be alone, and...that's where he is. He's definitely not happy about it - why would he be happy about being in his birth mother's house, when he didn't even like to talk to her? - but he's there nonetheless. It's part of his punishment, he decides as he buries his face in his pillow, trying to ignore the horrible aching along his body. It's his punishment for screwing up as badly as how he has been.
Stealing a quick glance at the clock on the wall, he notices that it's past noon and he just sighs as he closes his eyes once more. Any sort of sleeping that he had done earlier don't even register, because he feels as if he's been awake for days instead of minutes, even if he's been asleep ever since 2:45 in the morning. Add that to how nauseous he already feels, and Michael feels irritated, and so damn miserable. If last night he had felt like shit, he feels like...something lower than shit. He doesn't even know what that could be, but that's how he feels.
And this was just the beginning? The thought makes him groan as he buries his face in the pillow again. Damn it. Goddamn it all to hell.
"What if we help him get into a clinic? A guy at work told me about one that's forty minutes away from here, and it can help him. They help people with detox from heroin, using drugs and they make the withdrawals symptoms go away almost completely. It's safe, and it looks good from what I found out."
Michael suddenly frowns as he hears Elise's husband ramble about the so-called clinic. He's even about to get up to go complain personally about how he shouldn't barge into something that doesn't concern him, but Elise's voice stops him from moving, thankfully.
"Thanks, honey, but I'm going to leave that up to him. I asked him last night already, and he refused. I don't want to push him."
The concern in Elise's voice doesn't go unnoticed in Michael's ears, but he's too busy trying to get himself to stop shivering to really think much about it. And he's already hurting way too much to think anyway. Craig and Elise suddenly start talking about their afternoon schedules, and Michael just ignores them by trying to bury himself deeper into the pillow and under the blankets. The pull-out couch he's sleeping on in Craig's home office isn't exactly comfortable, but he doesn't care. He just wants to sleep. He knows he needs to call Orlando, because he said he'd give him a call in the morning, but...he'll call later. He feels too shitty right now to even say hi.
With another sigh, he just tries to sleep. Yet, as expected, he can't and it irritates the living hell out of him even more than how he had already been. It was going to be a long week. Or month. Or however long it'd take him to get back to being clean.
"He was asleep last I checked on him." A pause. "He looks really sick."
"He's going through withdrawals, El. And if he just quit... This is nothing compared to how he'll be."
Suddenly the voices got quiet, and Michael opens his eyes very slightly. As soon as he does so, however, he regrets it as the sunlight that's managed to make its way in through the curtains heighten his headache. Waking up in Elise's house was not exactly something he had expected to ever do, but he had told Orlando he'd stay there so he wouldn't be alone, and...that's where he is. He's definitely not happy about it - why would he be happy about being in his birth mother's house, when he didn't even like to talk to her? - but he's there nonetheless. It's part of his punishment, he decides as he buries his face in his pillow, trying to ignore the horrible aching along his body. It's his punishment for screwing up as badly as how he has been.
Stealing a quick glance at the clock on the wall, he notices that it's past noon and he just sighs as he closes his eyes once more. Any sort of sleeping that he had done earlier don't even register, because he feels as if he's been awake for days instead of minutes, even if he's been asleep ever since 2:45 in the morning. Add that to how nauseous he already feels, and Michael feels irritated, and so damn miserable. If last night he had felt like shit, he feels like...something lower than shit. He doesn't even know what that could be, but that's how he feels.
And this was just the beginning? The thought makes him groan as he buries his face in the pillow again. Damn it. Goddamn it all to hell.
"What if we help him get into a clinic? A guy at work told me about one that's forty minutes away from here, and it can help him. They help people with detox from heroin, using drugs and they make the withdrawals symptoms go away almost completely. It's safe, and it looks good from what I found out."
Michael suddenly frowns as he hears Elise's husband ramble about the so-called clinic. He's even about to get up to go complain personally about how he shouldn't barge into something that doesn't concern him, but Elise's voice stops him from moving, thankfully.
"Thanks, honey, but I'm going to leave that up to him. I asked him last night already, and he refused. I don't want to push him."
The concern in Elise's voice doesn't go unnoticed in Michael's ears, but he's too busy trying to get himself to stop shivering to really think much about it. And he's already hurting way too much to think anyway. Craig and Elise suddenly start talking about their afternoon schedules, and Michael just ignores them by trying to bury himself deeper into the pillow and under the blankets. The pull-out couch he's sleeping on in Craig's home office isn't exactly comfortable, but he doesn't care. He just wants to sleep. He knows he needs to call Orlando, because he said he'd give him a call in the morning, but...he'll call later. He feels too shitty right now to even say hi.
With another sigh, he just tries to sleep. Yet, as expected, he can't and it irritates the living hell out of him even more than how he had already been. It was going to be a long week. Or month. Or however long it'd take him to get back to being clean.