Rings and thoughts.
based on this
Two days ago he had asked Damian to bring him a bag that he had prepared and had left behind in his closet before he had set out to look for Tess. The plan had been that, wherever it was that they ended up, he would ask Damian to send it but the circumstances were supposed to be different. So, so fucking different than how they were now. Somehow he had convinced himself that, after he got her away from Jack, he would take Tess to the Caymans how he had promised. They would relax there and forget about the rest of the world, because Jack was supposed to be gone by then.
Jack was gone for sure now. That certainly had remained the same, but the rest... Tess was somewhere else, and Michael was being kept locked up because he was still too unstable or some bullshit like that. It all sounded like bullshit to him. People talking, television shows, music... He had moved on from depression to anger. Angry enough to destroy the hospital room if he could, but instead he just swallowed down the words that always threatened to spill because, if he were to say and do what went through his mind, he would be kept in that hospital for even longer. Hell, he doubted he would ever actually leave.
Tonight, though, that anger was taking a break. In its place some of that emptiness from before had settled, because for two days it had been lingering in the room, lurking for the correct moment to hit him. It had started when the bag had gotten to the room, and Michael had to remember just why he had asked Damian to bring it by. To remember old plans? To remember his old life? It was hard to tell, but the fact was that he had and for two days straight that bag had been staring at him from across the room.
It was past midnight now. Everything was quiet, and for the first night in months he was finally alone. Maybe that's what the emptiness had been waiting for, he thought as he got out of bed and slowly made his way towards the bag. As he stood by it he just stared, a knot lodging itself in his throat, until he couldn't stand it. His hand reached for the zipper of one of the side pockets and made its way inside.
It didn't take long to find it. It had been wrapped under a t-shirt, which was a stupid hiding place now that he thought about it, but when he had packed none of that had mattered. His mind had been racing, trying to find Tess and keeping a positive attitude.
Now he had lost Tess for his own stupid, foolish mistakes, and his attitude was nowhere near positive.
The small black box felt like it was made of lead as he carried it back to the bed. Once he was sitting back on that goddamn hospital bed he was starting to hate so much he settled the box in the middle, just staring again, but it didn't take long for him to reach across and opening it very slowly.
The diamonds of the ring sparkled as soon as the light hit them, and his heart started to clench so tightly and painfully that he was tempted to close up the box again, but he didn't. This is what you get, he told himself. This is what you lost. You lost her. You chose to lose her. You. lost. her.
The reminder wasn't enough to stop the memories that resurfaced.
...he softly kissed the top of her head and tightened his hold on her just slightly as his own thoughts started darkening again. He didn't want to lose her. He didn't want to die and leave her.
As if pushing away the thoughts, he kissed the top of her head again to feel her there. "Tess?"
"Hmmmm?" She said sleepily.
"I wanna marry you one day," he whispered into her hair, his lips tugging slightly upwards in a smile.
Her eyes flew open, and she stared into the dark room filled only with the flickering light of the television for a few seconds. Then she lifted her head and looked at Michael.
"Yes," she whispered breathlessly.
And then he closed the box. The small snap seemed to echo in the silent room, and Michael let the box fall onto the bed again before standing and walking towards the window. The lights of the city sparkled and kept shining, but Michael wasn't focusing on that. He was focusing on breathing again, because... God, he missed her so much. He had kept telling himself how it didn't matter that he had let her go, that it was for the best, that she would be better off without him, that she needed someone better than him... There were so many reasons, weren't there? So many fucking reasons why she deserved someone better.
All those reasons, though, didn't take away his love for her. They didn't erase those memories that now burned in his mind and were leaving him short of breath. They only clenched his heart tighter. They made his chest hurt. They didn't change the fact that he could still feel her resting on his chest as he had that night that he had told her that he wanted to marry to her.
"I'm sorry. I really am."
He would never stop being sorry for breaking her heart. He would never stop being sorry for letting her go. He would never stop being sorry for being the reason why she got hurt so damn badly, because someone had been trying to destroy him using her. He would never stop being sorry for letting them.
Resting his forehead against the cold window, he closed his eyes. Sometimes loving someone was letting them go, or some bullshit like that, wasn't it? Then he would let her go, because as much as it hurt - as much as it killed him - that wasn't really bullshit. Not if it meant her being safe and happy.
Wherever she was, he truly hoped she was at least that; safe and happy.
ooc: the 'memory' quotes are taken from this.
Two days ago he had asked Damian to bring him a bag that he had prepared and had left behind in his closet before he had set out to look for Tess. The plan had been that, wherever it was that they ended up, he would ask Damian to send it but the circumstances were supposed to be different. So, so fucking different than how they were now. Somehow he had convinced himself that, after he got her away from Jack, he would take Tess to the Caymans how he had promised. They would relax there and forget about the rest of the world, because Jack was supposed to be gone by then.
Jack was gone for sure now. That certainly had remained the same, but the rest... Tess was somewhere else, and Michael was being kept locked up because he was still too unstable or some bullshit like that. It all sounded like bullshit to him. People talking, television shows, music... He had moved on from depression to anger. Angry enough to destroy the hospital room if he could, but instead he just swallowed down the words that always threatened to spill because, if he were to say and do what went through his mind, he would be kept in that hospital for even longer. Hell, he doubted he would ever actually leave.
Tonight, though, that anger was taking a break. In its place some of that emptiness from before had settled, because for two days it had been lingering in the room, lurking for the correct moment to hit him. It had started when the bag had gotten to the room, and Michael had to remember just why he had asked Damian to bring it by. To remember old plans? To remember his old life? It was hard to tell, but the fact was that he had and for two days straight that bag had been staring at him from across the room.
It was past midnight now. Everything was quiet, and for the first night in months he was finally alone. Maybe that's what the emptiness had been waiting for, he thought as he got out of bed and slowly made his way towards the bag. As he stood by it he just stared, a knot lodging itself in his throat, until he couldn't stand it. His hand reached for the zipper of one of the side pockets and made its way inside.
It didn't take long to find it. It had been wrapped under a t-shirt, which was a stupid hiding place now that he thought about it, but when he had packed none of that had mattered. His mind had been racing, trying to find Tess and keeping a positive attitude.
Now he had lost Tess for his own stupid, foolish mistakes, and his attitude was nowhere near positive.
The small black box felt like it was made of lead as he carried it back to the bed. Once he was sitting back on that goddamn hospital bed he was starting to hate so much he settled the box in the middle, just staring again, but it didn't take long for him to reach across and opening it very slowly.
The diamonds of the ring sparkled as soon as the light hit them, and his heart started to clench so tightly and painfully that he was tempted to close up the box again, but he didn't. This is what you get, he told himself. This is what you lost. You lost her. You chose to lose her. You. lost. her.
The reminder wasn't enough to stop the memories that resurfaced.
...he softly kissed the top of her head and tightened his hold on her just slightly as his own thoughts started darkening again. He didn't want to lose her. He didn't want to die and leave her.
As if pushing away the thoughts, he kissed the top of her head again to feel her there. "Tess?"
"Hmmmm?" She said sleepily.
"I wanna marry you one day," he whispered into her hair, his lips tugging slightly upwards in a smile.
Her eyes flew open, and she stared into the dark room filled only with the flickering light of the television for a few seconds. Then she lifted her head and looked at Michael.
"Yes," she whispered breathlessly.
And then he closed the box. The small snap seemed to echo in the silent room, and Michael let the box fall onto the bed again before standing and walking towards the window. The lights of the city sparkled and kept shining, but Michael wasn't focusing on that. He was focusing on breathing again, because... God, he missed her so much. He had kept telling himself how it didn't matter that he had let her go, that it was for the best, that she would be better off without him, that she needed someone better than him... There were so many reasons, weren't there? So many fucking reasons why she deserved someone better.
All those reasons, though, didn't take away his love for her. They didn't erase those memories that now burned in his mind and were leaving him short of breath. They only clenched his heart tighter. They made his chest hurt. They didn't change the fact that he could still feel her resting on his chest as he had that night that he had told her that he wanted to marry to her.
"I'm sorry. I really am."
He would never stop being sorry for breaking her heart. He would never stop being sorry for letting her go. He would never stop being sorry for being the reason why she got hurt so damn badly, because someone had been trying to destroy him using her. He would never stop being sorry for letting them.
Resting his forehead against the cold window, he closed his eyes. Sometimes loving someone was letting them go, or some bullshit like that, wasn't it? Then he would let her go, because as much as it hurt - as much as it killed him - that wasn't really bullshit. Not if it meant her being safe and happy.
Wherever she was, he truly hoped she was at least that; safe and happy.
ooc: the 'memory' quotes are taken from this.