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Warning! mature scenes and mentions of suicide.
It was his goal to make her the happiest she had ever been, and given he was the antichrist, it was quite amusing as he stood over watching her, thinking of ways he could make up for her sorrows. It was the next day, and the two had slept for almost a grand total of thirteen hours. Ana, however, was still asleep, and he had no plans of waking her until she was ready. How he hoped that his words had gotten to her, because truthfully, he still wasn't sure if he even believed them himself.
"Fuck." He muttered, pinching his forehead in frustration. Their options were limited to when it came to fun on the island, and there was only so much they could do. He sighed as he watched her, and a frown formed on his face when he noted how thin she was. He nodded to himself; food, she needed food. Breakfast in bed was romantic, right?
His legs carried him into the kitchen, and he yanked open the fridge as he stared inside it. He pursed his lips. Wanting to cook was one thing, actually cooking was another. She liked pancakes, he knew that for sure. But he also had no idea how to make them. Of course, he could go get them, but he couldn't risk her waking up while he was gone. "Fucking idiot." He cursed himself, closing the fridge as he glanced back to her.
He stumbled over the kitchen chair loudly, and he jumped as he tried quieting the loud noises he was making. Ana stirred slightly, and he froze as he refrained his movements. He slowly picked up the chair, and made his way over to the cabinet. To Ana, the safe house wasn't exactly small, but it was cozy and quant. To Michael, however, it was like the size of a Barbie's Dream-house. He was like a goddamn giant as he stumbled around, his head accidentally hitting the top of cabinets or light fixtures.
"Son of bitch!" He cursed, dropping a cup as it shattered on the floor. He sighed when he glanced over to Ana, huffing when her eyes fluttered open.
"What's wrong?" She sat up quickly, her hair wild and eyes dry.
"Nothing, darling." He nodded, giving her a small smile as he cleaned up his mess. "Just me trying to attempt at everyday tasks."
She went to get up, but he held out his hand. "No, you stay there." He smirked, standing back up. "Breakfast in bed actually means staying in bed, my love."
A goofy smile spread across her lips, and she rubbed her eye tiredly as she watched him. "You're making me breakfast?"
He chuckled, turning his back to her. "Like I said, attempting."
She laughed quietly to herself as she stared at his back, pulling the purple quilt up to her body. A yawn left her, and she glanced over to the window behind her. Her blue eyes burned in the sun, but it held a warm, comforting feeling on her pale skin. Her dreams had been nothing but good things, and she felt her head seem much clearer than what it had been. It was hard to believe, the words he had told her yesterday. A part of her didn't believe it, but she forced herself too; otherwise she wouldn't have been able to function.
