"He blames himself," Bill continued.
"Of course he does. It isn't his fault though."
"I know it isn't. It's him that you have to convince."
You sighed. "I know."
"Well, I'm gonna run and get some fresh clothes for you two. Hopefully he continues to get some much needed rest," Bill said while standing up.
"Alright," you smiled weakly at him.
Just as Bill was exiting, the nurse came in with your medicine. You quickly took it and relaxed, waiting for it to kick in. As you began to doze off again, the body next to you stirred. You jolted back up.
"Mm . . . Y/N. . ."
"Michael, it's okay, I'm okay."
He sat up and swiped his hair from his face.
"Y/N, oh thank God."
You couldn't help smiling at the man you loved.
"God, this is all my fau--"
"No, Michael, don't you start. This is no one's fault. If anything, I should have been paying attention to any warnings that were on the news. Yet, I was too busy . . . cleaning."
You decided against mentioning your personal concert to a song by his biggest rival.
"But still, we'd just talked about me being home earlier on the phone."
"You cannot control nature, Michael. You may have control over many things in this world, like the hormones of teenage girls or the production of an album. Yet, God knows you could not have done anything to prevent this. So, don't blame yourself. You were still there. You came for me and prevented me from hurting myself anymore than I already had. You were still there."
He sighed. You scooted over and grabbed his face with your hands.
"And I love you for that," you finished.
He put his large hands over your small ones and brought them to his lips.
"I'm just so thankful that you're alright."
"So am I," you smiled.
He finally gave you a smile in return.
"Now get in here with me," you scooted over and patted the bed.
He smiled and climbed into the hospital bed, carefully wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You leaned into his shoulder. For a few minutes, the two of you stayed like that, enjoying each other's company. Finally, you couldn't keep it to yourself anymore.
"You need a shower."
Michael laughed loudly.
"I know. When we get back home, we can take one together."
You smiled at this, getting butterflies.
"Sounds good to me."
There was a knock on the door and the doctor came in. He greeted you both and asked how you were feeling. You were happy to see that he was straightforward when discussing your injuries. Luckily, none of them were severe enough for you to have to stay another night.
"I'd definitely say your leg would be the only thing giving you problems for a few weeks, but that's only because the wounds must heal. You don't have a concussion, so your head will heal fairly quickly. You should be good to leave today."
You sighed in relief and squeezed Michael's hand. He looked at you, relief evident on his face.
~~~~
"So, how did you find out the quake was centered at the house?" You asked as Michael helped you undress.
The two of you were in his dimly lit bathroom, preparing to take a much-desired shower. Michael insisted on helping you do anything and you knew you wouldn't win an argument against it, so you complied. Of course, you wouldn't admit that you slightly enjoyed him babying you.
"Bill heard it on the radio. Boy, I don't know what I would've done if I didn't get here soon enough. You could've bled to death."
"Okay," you covered his mouth with your hand, "enough with the heavy. You got here, you saved me, I'm alright. Be thankful and quit thinking about what could've happened."
He smiled into your hand and licked it.
"Ew, Michael!" You exclaimed, jerking your hand from his mouth.
"Are you going to be alright standing on that leg?" He asked, looking concerned while glancing down at your leg.
"I can walk, can't I?"
"You have crutches. Besides, I don't want you slipping in the shower."
"You wouldn't let that happen."
He thought about it for a second and nodded.
"You're right, I wouldn't."
You giggled as he bent over the drain and turned on the water.
"Alright," he said and reached out to you.
"Thank you," you mumbled as he helped you into the shower. He followed behind you.
The two of you stood underneath the shower head. You gawked at him as the water hit his skin. Michael looked you over and licked his lips. He pulled you closer to him and kissed you passionately. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you pulled your bodies impossibly closer. He rested his hands on your hips.
"I love you . . . so much," you mumbled into the kiss.
"I . . . love you more."
"I love . . . you most."
"I love you most . . . of all."
Aftermath
Start from the beginning
