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Warning! mature scenes ahead
Michael was coddling her. His test was only a day away, and even though he knew he would pass it, it was only common sense to practice his magic. But he had no plans for it, not while Ana was the was she was right now. He didn't out right ask her, but he knew she was still upset. She was overly tired, hardly eating and scarily quiet. He'd stand there awkwardly, trying to figure what to do or say.
He had tried inviting her to class with him, and he offered to sit in the back away from curious eyes so he could hold her hand. But she declined his offer, and practically every offer after that. She spent the past two days laying in his bed, and she couldn't remember if she had even used the bathroom. She knew what this was, and it was clear her depressive phase was back in action. She thought it weird though, considering she wasn't supposed to care or let these things bother her. But perhaps she loved Beth more than she let herself believe.
She knew Michael was worried, but even talking almost made her pass out from exhaustion. He kept trying to get her to do something, like reading out of her book or going for a walk. But she always said she was tired, and would waste away the hours tangled in his sheets. He had stopped asking her what was wrong, because her only answer was that she was tired. Which he couldn't understand why, considering all she had done was lay in bed.
She was still wearing her torn dress, and her chest was practically bare besides the dark red of her bra. Michael had tried changing them for her, but she slapped his hand away and told him to go to bed. Her hair was still a frizzy mess, not having been washed since her rainy day excursion.
Now, the room remained dark. Ana's body laid between his sheets and her wild hair sprawled out against his pillows. She knew eventually she would have to get up, but it seemed as if she was tied down, her body not allowing simple movements. With Charlie, she was never allowed a chance to be depressed or grieve, because Helena was left, and God knows all the help that woman needed.
And when she died, Michael gave her the chance, and in many ways, she was still processing and dealing with her mother's loss. Beth's passing had saddened her dearly, but her death symbolized so much more. To put it simply, death was death. It was uncontrollable, it happened at the most random of times and for reasons unexplained. She knew that, she had seen it. But the death that lurked in the back of her mind was making her break, and it didn't matter how many times he told her he wouldn't leave her, it would always be there to haunt her.
The door to the room cracked open, and she could hear the familiar click of leather shoes as Michael ventured inside. His eyes adjusted to the dark, and gave a wave of his hand to light the candles and fireplace around them. He heard her groan, burying her face in the pillow as he set his books down. He felt like he was going crazy, sick with worry and had no idea how to help her. She needed to get out of bed, to eat something and to clean herself up. And by the looks of it, she had no plans of doing so. He didn't want to have to make her, but it was beginning to look like he would have to.
