Title: The Rain
Pairing: Michael/Ned
Rating: PG
Summary: The rain fell heavily, yet Michael stood outside, hoping the weather could wash away his sadness - or hide his tears.
Author’s Notes: Not my best thing, I know, but there were things - namely all of this - that I needed to write down. Just ramblings really, and not as structured as I would like, but *shrugs*
The rain fell heavily, there was a storm about to come, and Michael could feel it. Yet he stood outside, letting the hard rain hit his soft skin, hoping that the weather could wash away his sadness - or hide his tears. He thought back to the reason he was upset and wondered whether or not the tears he was shedding was worth it.
In his mind, they were. He had lost the man that had made him the happiest he had been in a long time - someone that made him feel beautiful, talented, and someone who protected him, wrapped him in bubble wrap when he needed it and sat through some of the worst horror movies he had come to witness. He had lost him, he had walked away, had Michael.
Two days had passed and he felt as though his world was slowly falling apart. He wanted to know what exactly he had done wrong, what he had done to push Ned, the man that - in his mind still - was perfect for him, into someone else’s arms. He had tried to tell himself that it was the alcohol that had made Ned want Andrew because he wouldn’t like him normally, would he? Michael sighed, knowing that the answer was probably a yes. He wished he didn’t have to find out the way he had though, he wish that Ned was honest with him.
His body was still tired, he never slept well when Ned wasn’t beside him, and knowing that Ned had dragged his body in around three a.m., still made his body tired, though he had relaxed the moment he had felt that warm chest he had come to love so much press against his t-shirt clad back. Ned drunkenly slurred that he loved him, Michael tiredly agreed.
When they had woken up, Michael could still feel the ache of being tired, and Ned had somewhat of a minor hangover. Michael didn’t like the stagnant smell of alcohol, giggling and refusing Ned their usual morning kiss. With a roll of his eyes, Ned climbed out of the bed, pouting, and that’s when Michael saw them: the fresh scratches on his back so prominent against his pale skin.
Fresh tears touched his eyes as he recalled the marks, his fingers had traced over them slowly. Michael let himself laugh, albeit briefly about the excuses that Ned had tried to make up.
“You did it... You must have...”
And Michael gave Ned back the only response he could: the truth.
“Ned, we’ve never... It’s impossible for me to have...” Michael looked down, the tears fearing to roll down his cheeks as his mind went to the most probable reason for those marks.
The apology was the worst, Michael had deemed, not wanting to think too much on it, because every time he heard ‘I’m sorry’ escape his lips, Michael knew it was the truth. Michael knew that it wouldn’t happen again, and his heart had told him to forgive him and push past it, but his head, his logical and rational mind, he knew that this would only drive a wedge between them - whether it be whenever they spoke about things, or when Michael would think that he would actually be ready to get physical he would be doing nothing more than comparing himself with Andrew.
The pain that Michael felt was harsher than anything he had ever felt before. His heart had threatened to fall out of his chest, every time he heard a song that they had listened to or made out to, his body went into meltdown and every time he thought about what he and Andrew had done, he had made himself feel worthless.
That’s all that Michael could do at that moment: feels sorry for himself and find a way to blame this debacle on him, no matter how many times his friends had told him otherwise; Michael just wanted this feeling to be over.
The text messages were the worst - Michael couldn’t not read them and the burning in his chest was telling him to reply. To take him back because the five months they were together were the best months of his life.
Michael, please... Talk to me, answer me, something. I know I made a mistake and I know you are upset, but I need you. N.
I need you. Talk to me.
Forgive me, you’re everything to me, I didn’t want to hurt you. I didn’t want this to happen to us.
I was drunk, please talk to me. I’m sorry. You don’t know how sorry I am. You don’t know what it feels like without you.
And Michael knew what it felt like, because Michael was living without Ned, he had walked out on Ned and it had been the hardest thing he had ever had to do. The one text that Ned had sent that made Michael’s head and heart hurt the most was a simple text:
I love you.
It hurt because Michael didn’t know whether it was the truth or not, it hurt because Michael truly loved Ned; and it hurt because it was the statement that neither of them had been able to utter.
Only when it was too late.
As the rain got heavier, Michael’s emotions did also. He thought about the first time he and Ned had kissed, how the rain had drenched them, and how their wet bodies moulded together as one, and how, even though, Michael was in a thin t-shirt - much like tonight - and he was freezing his ass off, having Ned so close to him made him feel like he was in the warmest place in the world.
Michael would never find that again, no matter who told him otherwise, he would never find another Ned.
He felt his phone vibrate against his thigh, deep down he hoped it was Ned, deep down he wanted to listen to his voice - wanted to forgive him, wanted to find the warmth and security that he only found with Ned, the tender caress of his hand against his cheek as they kissed, the way their bodies fit together perfectly when they were sleeping, and how his head could sit on Ned’s shoulder, his body a bundle in his lap as they watched horror movies, and Michael would pretend to be into the action movies that Ned seemed to be so into. Michael missed that, most of all, he missed his voice.
The phone was pulled out of his pocket slowly, shaking hands as he saw his picture come up on the caller I.D., he knew that by pressing the green button he’d say those words - the words that he wouldn’t forgive himself for saying, the words that everyone around him would scorn. The words that were etched in his mind as the wrong words to say.
He’d leave it to ring, he’d hope that he would be strong enough to go without him on his own, he had his friends.
Michael knew, deep down that he just wouldn’t be strong enough.
As Michael stood under the rain, he knew that it was just covering up his pain and tears; he knew that this feeling wouldn’t go, he knew that the storm coming was only just the beginning.