Hey, you're that guy

These dumb blankets really did make things better. He was all snug underneath the fluff and around Damon's arms. He kissed him lazily and softly, nothing overtly passionate, before he settled into a position he liked and drifted off.

Michael didn't dream, and that was a welcome relief. Night terrors loved to haunt his resting hours. Aside from the small, sleep-induced migraine he had when he woke up, Michael woke up well-rested.

For a few moments, Michael didn't stir. He studied the features of Damon's chest and watched his chest rise and fall. Safe. Soothing. There was a dull ache in his chest he didn't really recognize, but it. It wasn't bad at all.

What a way to spend the holidays, right?

Time couldn't be suspended forever. Mike really had to go to the bathroom. With some hesitance, he untangled their limbs, made his way out of the blanket pile and headed straight for the bathroom. He finished up and washed his face.

Christ, look at him. He was a mess. Damon got attracted to this? His insides screamed no, please don't, he could do so much better. He turned off the light and exited the bathroom, rubbing the creak at the back of his neck. He checked to see if Damon was awake.

All in all, he... was feeling a lot better.

Shit, this was uh. This was overly sweet and domestic, huh? Michael wanted to laugh at himself and make some biting remark. Instead, he placed his hands on Damon's shoulders.

"Mm," he said, feeling heat rush to his face with this sort of contact. He leaned down to place a careful kiss on Damon's lips. "I slept fine. Thank you."

There was some part of him that... wanted to stay like this, him and Damon, blankets, food and all the warmth that came with it. When he thought about that, it felt like the ideal, like the outside world didn't exist. He wanted nothing more than to stay here and.

These were very dangerous thoughts.

Michael paled. Without much hesitation, he ground the idea into dust and offered a very polite smile. "Hey, so. I don't want to overstay my welcome here. You've been great and all, but I think I'll be leaving in the morning." He was going to offer him his contact number, but decided against it. This was it. This was going to be the end of this. Nothing was going to happen after.

Was he absolute garbage for that? Absolutely. But he had to do what he needed, and what he needed right now was to protect himself.

"I wouldn't mind spending the night in your bed, though," he said, suggestion all there. He grinned. Before waiting to get turned down, he pointed to the door with his thumb. "I think we left some food in the kitchen? Oh my god. I'm starving."

Michael had to wonder how all right he really was with that.

If he wasn't, that was fine. Michael deserved it. Did he even have a right to feel bad about that? That was the cost of being a douchebag, he supposed. He couldn't peer into his life and see how he was doing, even if the softer parts of him wanted to. He wasn't that bad of a person.

It was better off this way.

All right, no more moping. He didn't want this to end on a mopey note. Damon deserved that much, at least.

Michael laughed and followed after Damon, hands on his waist behind him as they went into the living room. Dark already, huh? When they reached the kitchen, Michael split off the makeshift train, not wanting to disturb him as he heated up their meal, and sat on the on the living room couch. Er. No more touching pictures or listening to voicemails. He rifled through the box sets Damon had and picked up Law and Order: Special Victims Unit.

"Yooo, Dame, you watch Law and Order? Shit, I haven't even watched this one yet." He waved it around. "What do you say? Up for an after Christmas marathon?"

Michael settled in a comfortable cuddling position fairly easily, enjoying good shows, good food and good company. He kissed Damon a little and ate french fries a lot. SVU wasn't free from any sharp jabs and commentary, but he was definitely invested, even if he hadn't watched the last two and a half seasons and had to ask Damon several questions.

It was...

It was really nice. He'd forgotten how being content felt. Completely relaxed as he was, he drifted off to sleep way too easily.

When he woke up the next day, the sun was shining, and there was a gruesome murder on TV. It took him a few moments to register what was going on. In his groggy haze, he somehow succeeded in getting the remote from the table and turning off the television without stirring too much so he wouldn't wake Damon up. He held him in those quiet hours in the morning. He remembered he'd made up his mind last night and... he hasn't exactly changed his decision, but it just made him harder to stick to it.

He wondered if there would be any harm in changing his mind. Thinking about this was already hurting him.

The last person he was attached to was Michelle. She was his better half and his entire world. Everything he did, he did for and because of Michelle.

That was the thing about him. He often didn't care about people, but on the rare occasions that he did, he loved them so deeply and completely that he was often driven to stupid things because of his affections. He betrayed her because he was terrified.

Did he have room for Damon? Would he be all right if he left him? If he was somehow fine with the first two, could he guarantee that he wouldn't hurt him?

No, this was just.

Damon was the nightmare, but Michael was the destructive, toxic, rotten one. Damon didn't need him in his life.

After the thought settled in his mind like poison, Michael scrubbed his face and very gently laid Damon down on the sofa. He did everything he needed to look presentable. Combed his hair, washed his face, brushed his teeth. His eyes were bloodshot and sunken, and he had to bite back the urge to give in.

When he left the bathroom, he very quietly began putting things in order. He loaded the dirty dishes into the dishwasher and wiped off the counters and tables. He threw away any plastic or paper bags they used to get the groceries and ingredients out and rearranged the DVDs he took out. Next, he went into the bedroom and made the bed, folded each blanket and placed them in a neat pile. Lastly, he left two hundred and a note thanking Damon, and that he was paying to get his car cleaned and half the groceries.

It was better like this. Erase any trace that he was ever here. Avoid being a burden after he was gone.


It was only after he was done that he acknowledged Damon again with a smile.

"Morning," he said softly. "I'm gonna head out now."

He wanted to — He wanted to hug him, kiss him, or hold him one last time. His fingers fidgeted on the side of his body and he bounced awkwardly on his feet.

"I hope the rest of your Holidays go well. Thank you for everything, Damon."

That was it.

Michael took a deep breath as soon as he got out.

Hands trembling, he thought, so this is it.

This... is it.

Michael climbed down the apartment stairs. After he exited the building, he felt the winter chill of outside bite into his skin, so he entered a clothing store first and bought a cheap jacket and a scarf. The cashier furrowed her eyebrows at him and said, "Chin up, it's the holidays."

Right.

Michael wandered the city looking for a cab. Like hell was he taking the subway, and the only time he'll ever get on a bus was if somebody carried his cold, dead body in there. It seemed like things were busy, people going home from parties or visiting somewhere else, that it was kind of difficult finding an empty cab.

He hugged his arms close to his chest and found himself outside the city park. He sat on a bench and watched people pass by. It was past Christmas, but traces of it were still around.

Christmas. He spent it with his family, usually. Now that mom and dad were gone, Michelle and him learned to cope with it and spend the holidays together, and after he ruined everything, she... distanced herself too. She built herself a high and impenetrable tower in her room and shut off the whole world. Michael always came home to a cold and empty mansion. That was what he was coming home to. Emptiness.

A cab stopped right in front of him and snapped him out of his thoughts. He only realized then how much his eyes stung. "Um?"

"Need a ride, pal?"

Michael stood up...

...and patted the hood of the cab, circling it.

He didn't want this, no. He was bad, toxic and rotten, but he was human, and he was so terribly lonely. He couldn't keep existing like this. He hated being surrounded by people he couldn't feel for. It was like dancing with ghosts. No matter how much he tried to grasp them, there was no warmth, no impressions, just endless exhaustion.

He made a friend today. Like, really, really connected with someone. He talked to him so easily, felt safe and loved and warm for the first time in years. He couldn't afford to lose this. He couldn't afford to fuck it up. He ran across the street, almost colliding with cars twice, gathered on his clothes and melted into water. He entered the apartment building and stopped right in front of the door he...

He burst through the door and leaned on the doorframe, attempting to catch his breath.

"So I'm a douche," he started, clearing a throat. "A-and I forgot to ask for your number?" He blinked a few times to get the sharpness out of his eyes. "If you're all right with giving it, that is."