"But when you think about it, you can deal with other kids . . . sometimes. It's when you experience an abusive teacher—one that makes you feel lower than you are—that's when it really . . ."
Your voice cracked and you stopped talking. Michael began slowly trailing kisses over your shoulders. You let out a shaky breath, feeling a lump develop in your throat. You didn't want to cry in front of him, so you tried to get up. Michael stopped and held your waist.
"Wait," he whispered, "Don't go, Y/ N. Not this time."
"Michael, please," you quietly begged, wanting nothing more than to get away.
"I'm not gonna let you go and cry by yourself, Y/N. Not when I'm right here to comfort you."
"I don't need to cry, Michael," you said lowly, "I just need to go pee."
He chuckled, shaking his head. "You've never been a good liar."
After hearing his laugh, a small, temporary smile came to your lips. "I know."
He held you closer, reaching his legs out and tangling them in yours. "You don't have to hide your tears from me. As many times as you've seen me in a vulnerable state, I would love to have the privilege of seeing you in yours."
You shook your head. "Michael, I'm fine."
"The teacher," he began, completely disregarding your last statement, "what did he or she do?"
You sighed. "From the beginning, I tried to be as friendly as I could. I did that with all my teachers. From a young age, I knew how important it could be to have a good relationship with teachers. However, this one just wouldn't accept it. She was mean, not afraid to raise her voice without reason. Before her, I wasn't really used to anyone . . . disapproving of me. So, I tried harder. I tried with everything I had. At that age, I pressured myself to be perfect. If one person didn't care for me . . . I didn't feel like I was enough, you know? I just remember coming home everyday from school and . . ."
Your voice caught in your throat. This was a difficult story for you to tell. Furthermore, Michael's quiet sympathy was pushing you over the edge. You wouldn't get through this without shedding a few tears.
"After school you would what?" He asked softly.
He seemed so eager, so ready to see you finally reveal yourself to him. He wanted to see all of you. All the sides of you would finally be his.
"I went home and cried every single day," you whispered, feeling your voice quiver, "Every single night, I didn't want to go to school. I was so tired—so tired of trying. I tried for the students, I tried for the teacher, I tried for my parents, and I tried for the unrealistic expectations I had for myself. At night, I wanted to go to sleep and not have to wake up and face the world. I wished for it. All of this . . ." You closed your eyes and covered your mouth, "while I was only eleven years old."
The room became silent. For a moment, he let you be. He knew you needed that last moment to let go. And you did.
Closing your eyes, you felt yourself become choked up. You made one last attempt to hold it in, and Michael gently stopped you.
"No, no, Y/N. Let it out. It's okay," he whispered, holding you impossibly closer.
With that, you covered your face and let out a cry. Michael reached his head around and kissed your ear. Reaching his hands around, he pulled yours from your face before readjusting your position. He stretched his legs out completely and pulled you into his lap, cradling your body. You shook your head and he hushed you softly.
"This is something that happened so long ago, but it still haunts me to this day. I have nightmares about it, way more than I should," you choked out.
Now, you were simply pouring your heart out to him. And he was happy. Not happy to see you in this state—this tore him to pieces. However, he was happy to see that you'd finally opened up to him. You finally allowed him to see all of you.
"I know, baby, I know," he comforted softly, rocking you back and forth.
"I-I just want to be enough," you cried, squeezing your eyes closed.
He kissed your forehead. "You are enough, Y/N. One person's disapproval is instantly cancelled out by all of the people who love you. I love you," he whispered, "and that's enough for me. Isn't that enough for you?"
You hiccuped, nodding slowly. He ran his hand from your head to your back. For once, you actually felt like you'd lifted your load. You had finally opened up to Michael. With his tender love and care, he managed to coax the much-needed tears out of you.
"I needed this . . ." You whispered hoarsely.
A small smile came to his lips. "I know you did."
You finally opened your eyes and looked out at the glowing lights below. Michael kept his gaze on you, reading every change in your facial expression.
"Thank you for being here," you whispered.
"Don't thank me, Y/N. You've always been the shoulder for me to cry on. I would feel like I haven't completed my duties as your partner if I didn't return the favor."
~~~~
Wow, this one actually got me. This hit me on a personal level, which is something that I don't usually incorporate in my writing. I actually made my self cry with this one. Well, have a good night, my loves. I love you all. ✨💋🌙
Coaxing The Tears
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