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Michael Langdon (American Horror Story)

You had always told Constance that Michael didn't have the ideas in his brain of his age. He was behind. You knew it, but you loved him. He was your smile, your happiness, and your life. Yet Constance was still horrible to him.

You didn't understand it, how she loved her son, who intentionally killed many kids ON PURPOSE, yet she couldn't love a boy who killed one priest, who was hurting him. He didn't know what he was doing, he just want the hurt to stop.

That basically explains why you were beyond pissed when you found her screaming at him, for killing the priest.

You could see the hurt in his eyes, as he told her he wanted help. What could you do, you might've been his soulmate, but the woman he looked up to meant more to him, or at least you thought.

"Go! You are not welcome in my house any longer, you are a monster." Michael's eyes were red, as tears stream down his face aggressively. He's shaking his head violently. Constance shows no emotion as she stomps out of the young boys room.

"Michael?" You whisper, as he doesn't look up towards you. You'd doubt that he'd seen you the entire time.

"Hey. Michael. Babe." Michael finally looks up at you, tears still flowing.

"Am I?" Michael musters the courage to say something to you.

"Are you what Michael?"

"Am I a monster Y/N?" Michael chokes out, sobbing harder.

"No Michael." You run towards him, and embrace him in your arms. He sobs into your chest, shaking violently once more.

Once you had him calmed down, you decided to go ask Tate for a favor, to borrow a suitcase and a toothbrush.

"Hey Michael."

"Yes?" He sniffles in the middle of the sentence he eyes still red and watery.

"I'm gonna go get a suitcase so we can pack. I'll be right back. Okay?" You looked into his eyes with sympathy, trying to be as nice as you could with how angry you were towards Constance.

"Okay."

You hop off the bed, walked down the hall toward the stairs, and up into the attic. You knocked twice on the open door, a sign between you and Tate to tell it was you.

"Come in." Tate was sitting reading a book, and closed it when you walked in. He gave a light smile and sat up higher against the headboard.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"I have a HUGE favor to ask of you Tate."

"Yeah. Anything for you buddy." He smiles once again, raising his eyebrows while waiting for an answer.

"I need a suitcase." As if on cue, Constance begins screaming downstairs at Michael. 'I told you get out' and 'girlfriend can go too' is all you heard.

"Yep. There's one in my closet." He opens the book he was reading up again, waiting for me to grab it.

"Ummm. Can you get it Tate? I don't want to find anything I don't need to see." You make an attempt to laugh and wiggle your eyebrows.

"Oh, and please hurry." You begin to get antsy, knowing Constance is beating up on Michael at this very moment.

"Sure thing." He shuffled quickly over to his closet, opens the door and pulls out four shoeboxes, a sleeping bag, a gun, and seven lighters. He finally pulls a suitcase out of the bottom of his closet.

"Will that work?"

"Yes! Thank you so much." You run quickly back downstairs, counting the steps as you go. Seven more, six, five, four, thr-

Tire squealing. Your heart began to race. Something had happened, you knew it. You saw Constance rush outside.

The suitcase gripped tightly in your hand fell down the last two stairs, as you ran down the stairs and towards the front door.

The door stood ajar, and you saw what you never wanted to see. Michael lay on the cement, Constance kneeled over him, as if she actually cared. You wanted to beat her paranormal ass.

"Shit." You gasp for air, tear flowing down your face.

"Get our of my way, you bitch. You never cared anyways." You shove Constance out of your way, as you cradle Michael's head in your lap.

"I love you." You mumble, your entire life crumbling to pieces in that moment.

"I love you too." Michael weakly smiles as his breathing slows.

"How much Michael?" You attempted to make his last moments happy moments, make him smile one last time.

"One hundred." His eyes start to close a bit longer of a duration.

"Is that it?"

"And five." His eyes closed again, but his breaths were still there, only about every thirty seconds.

"I love you that much too Michael." You smile gently, lifting his head up to kiss yours, and trying not to make him hurt anymore than he already was.

"Mhmm." He mumbled something incoherent, and you just smile and nod.

"It hurts." Michael whispers, his breathing slowing up again.

"I know baby. I know." You nod again, crying hysterically.

His breathing stopped for a moment, before staring back up again. You laced your fingers together.

"It...."

"It's what Michael?" You furrow your eyebrows.

"Not your... fault." He chokes, blood coming out of his mouth.

"Thank you Michael. I believe you."

"I'm sor..." His eyes closed again. This was it.

"No Michael it's okay. It's alright. It'll be fine." You stutter, shaking your head and cradling his body.

He was gone. And you couldn't have done anything to stop it. You didn't know why you had tried. It was inevitable. Death overcomes everyone and everything.

k-killerqueen