She felt like she had been dropped from a plane without a parachute, and when she shot up from the bed with violent coughs leaving her throat, she felt as if her body had smacked against the ground. She held her stomach as she coughed, her throat dry as she reached to fist the blanket below her. She took big, weak breaths that made her go dizzy, and her eyes were wide as saucers when she opened them.
The room was deadly quiet besides her breathing and the crackle of a fire, and she remained the only one in the room. She felt her body tremble, and she looked down to her hands as they shook violently. She looked down to the blanket, then the walls and the lights. She looked to the floorboards and to the big, black doors.
Her eyes were wide and her body shook, because she absolutely remembered everything.
She couldn't move, and she released a loud, panicked gasp as she fisted the blanket. Her chest was heaving harshly, tears beginning to pour in her eyes as breathing became difficult. "Oh, G-" She tried speaking but she couldn't, and she grabbed her throat as she looked around the room.
She now remembered Helena, her mother that had taken her life. She remembered when her personality had changed with a flip of a switch and became a cold, dark person. She remembered the day they got tattoos and spent a night out on the town. She remembered when she felt a sick feeling in her stomach when she left for work. The dark, red stain of her blood on the floor and crying for her lifeless body.
She now remembered Charlie, her father who had passed away from cancer when she was fourteen. She remembered the way he told cheesy jokes and how he liked grilling out in the yard on Sundays. He spoiled her and bought her shiny new toys when his paychecks came in, she remembered all of it.
She remembered her job, and her coworkers she considered family. She had lost one, and she squinted her eyes as she tried remembering the girl. It started with a B. Bailey? Brandi- no, Beth! Yes, she remembered Beth and seeing her dead body.
Her friends, she remembered them. The group of six that brought her along to their adventurous events. She remembered her cold apartment and how crowded it was, along with the other residents of the building that she grew close to.
She took a big breath, a sob pushing out of her lips that was strangled. She looked up, her body frozen as she recognized the walls of the building. Hawthorne, this was Hawthorne. Yes, she remembered this place. This was the..warlock! This was the warlock school she had stayed at. And there was a boy there named Jack. God, she remembered him, preferably how annoying he had been.
But all those little things, all those details of her life went away, because she suddenly remembered something much more than that.
When her mother had died, there had been someone there with her.
When she looked through pictures of Charlie of Father's Day, that same person remained beside her.
And when she lost her friends or work had been difficult, that person was there.
At the school, there. He had been there.
Her sobs stopped, and her head snapped up from the ground as she registered the empty room. "Michael." She gasped out, her hands falling to her sides as her eyes grew wide with panic.
The overwhelming feeling in her body was too much to handle, her chest swelling with a feeling she couldn't understand as she felt herself grow lightheaded. She tried to move, but her body felt paralyzed, too in shock to register her desires to leave the bed. She then remembered the time, and she remembered how long it had been since she had known who she was.
She started sobbing again, gripping her throat and her hair as she remembered the day she had woken up to see Jack's face, a tingle against her lips that she didn't understand. She had spent eighteen months at the outpost, completely lost and unaware of what her life was.
She remembered the plan, the day Michael had promised her that he'd be there when she woke up. He hadn't, but she still remembered it. He'd find her, he promised he would. And even though he hadn't been there, he was there now.
She gasped out a cry at the thought, sitting up straighter as she glanced around the room. Oh, God, he was here. And she had been communicating with him, she had dinner with him and played her piano with him. And as soon as she thought it, her eyes settled on the sleek—black piano, and she cried even harsher as the old memories flashed in her head from the times they had played Clair De Lune together.
This was too much. Fuck, this was all too much to handle.
He had been at the outpost for almost three days, and she had seen, talked and kissed him, even though she hadn't known who he was. She had so many questions, but she didn't care about those now. Not right now. She was having a full blown panic attack, and she sobbed as she crawled across the bed. "Michael." She whimpered, stating the name and testing it against her lips. "Michael. Michael."
The bottom of her dress moved against the floor as she stood, walking on shaky legs as she moved across the room. "Michael!" She sobbed, glancing around as she fought for her breath. Oh, God, where was he? Had he gone? How long had she been asleep? Did he get tired and leave? How-
"Anastasia!"
She whirled around as her back hit the piano, and her light—blue eyes met his sharp ones across the room. There he was, standing against the closed doors with wide eyes. A panicked breath left her, images of her old dreams flashing into her. Fuck, she had dreamed the entire thing. The school, the separation. Hell, even his hair. "Michael." She choked out, gripping the edges of the instrument.
He took a step forward, his eyes welled up with shock tears as he glanced over her appearance. "You remember." He stated, his hands moving to reach out to her.
Her sobbing had stopped, being replaced with a gaping mouth and frozen, wide eyes. Her veins went cold like ice, and her heart seemed to stop when she finally registered him across the room. There he was, the person that had been missing from her mind for so long. There had been a big chunk of her brain missing, and that part had been him. But he was back now, and she took a step toward him. "Mi-" She went to reach out to him, but her body didn't seem ready for that.
She was too overwhelmed, and she erupted into sobs as she doubled over. "Oh, God, I-" It kept coming back to her, all the memories of her life.
For eighteen months she had wanted to know what was behind the hidden curtain of her mind, and now that she did, she wasn't handling it very well. "Anastasia-" He went to grab her, but she panicked and backed away as moved against the wall.
"No!" She cried. "No, I can't-" She shook her head, her vision blurry as he stood in front of her. "Mom." She croaked out, holding herself against the wall as she stared down at his shoes. "Mom, Oh, God, mom." She held her forehead as her head pounded, sobbing as she forgot about the man in front of her. "Mom, mom, I want mom." She cried, shaking her head violently. "Dad, I-"
"Anastasia-"
His voice snapped her face up, and her mind would simply not let her celebrate the fact that it was Michael in front of her. Too much was running through her mind, right now. It was making her physically sick, and she moved across the room as her feet blindly carried her. "No, no, I can't." She gripped her throat. "I can't breath." She sobbed. "M- I can't b-breath, I can't-"
Strong arms spun her around, and she should have felt joyous when it was Michael in front of her. But she didn't, only panic as she shrieked away. She tripped to the floor as she sobbed, fear and confusion inside of her. "Who are y-" She stopped herself, shaking her head. No, she knew who he was. She knew who he was, it was Michael.
She couldn't get a grip on herself, too many memories making her overwhelmed. She felt like she was drowning in tears, and her face snapped up when he grabbed it. "Breathe." Michael spoke firmly, his face coming into her vision. "Breath, Anastasia."
She was hyperventilating as his large, ring covered hands held her face as he kneeled in front of her. She came up to grip his wrists automatically, breathing in sporadically as she gasped. She went to look down, but he jerked her head back up. "No." He shook his head. "Keep looking at me, Anastasia."
She looked and felt like she was in pain, and she hiccuped as she tried forming words. "I don't- is this real?" She choked, her voice wavering. It was Michael in front of her, but was it really? There was too much going on, fuck, it was all too much.
"Yes." He nodded, holding her face firmly. "It's real, Anastasia. You know I'm real. You're real. Breathe and calm down. Keep air going into you're lungs." He grabbed her hand and placed it against his chest. "Come on, do it with me."
She copied his movements, hot tears going down her face as a singular one fell down his. The crackling of the fire, the feeling of his skin, it all began to calm her down. Then finally, after several minutes, her mind began processing who was in front of her.
It was his hands against her, the ones she remembered in her sleep so well. His rings were cold, just like they always had been. His hair was still silky and shiny, only longer now like her dreams had predicted. Her tears had slowed, along with her breathing that finally began to sink back into it's regular motion.
The memories of her family and friends didn't just vanish, but they moved into parts of her mind that fit like a puzzle. She felt herself growing whole again as she stared at him, and he patiently let her have her moment.
Michael had been interrogating Venable. On the night of Ana's first interview, she had mentioned the potential threat the ginger woman had thrown upon her. And even though she had forgotten about Anastasia, Michael wouldn't tolerate the power trip she was bestowing over his lover.
"Well.." She cleared her throat. "She did threaten to...flog me once." She winced at the memory.
She watched as his posture straightened, his eyes boring into hers. "Flog?" He repeated, a hint of anger in his voice.
"Does she.." She began, turning in her seat towards him. "Does she have that kind of authority? I mean, could she really just...abuse us like that?"
He pressed his tongue against his cheek as he watched her push a curl behind her ear. "No." He spoke clearly. "No, she does not. It's clear Ms. Venable has had too much of a taste of power. I'll be sure and correct her behavior."
And when he had gotten halfway back to her room after scaring the life out of the ginger bitch, he had heard her sobs breaking their way out of her lungs. He couldn't even celebrate joyously at her awakening, because she was too overwhelmed in panic as she stumbled around. He was terrified along with her in that moment, not knowing what to do as he stood back. He had been waiting for her to wake up and remember him, and when he had found her in there in hysterics, he didn't know the first thing to do.
But now, her panicking had stopped, and they both breathed in steadily as he watched her. His hand held hers against his chest, the other against her face as they both cried silent tears. No one said a thing, and not a singular sniffle left her red nose as her knees grew sore against the ground.
Her body was completely calm now, all memories fit snug into their proper place. She knew everything now, and here he was. Her soulmate, her lover. Her very reason to live, he was here. "Michael." She breathed his name, testing it as she blinked tiredly.
He nodded weakly, his own exhaustion overtaking him. Ana had been asleep for three days, and the stress it had caused him was of large, to say the least. It was like a case of ptsd, and it reminded him of the spell she had been under at the safe house. Fuck, it was just spell after spell with her. "It's me." He whispered, another tear falling down his face.
It was almost too good to be true, and yet, it was true. Her hands went to his face, and she slowly caressed the details that stood proudly against him. She swallowed a sob that escaped as a whimper, and she trailed her fingers over his cheekbones and through the sparkle of his tears. "Michael." She said it again, tasting each syllable like a sweet fruit.
He kept his hands to his sides, letting her make sure that he was real and that she wasn't still dreaming. She cried weakly, her hands going to his hair and holding the golden locks between her fingers. She lightly touched his neck, traveling to his lips and the tip of his nose. Her face was etched in a pained realization, and second by second, her broken heart was slowly glueing itself back together.
But Michael couldn't seem to keep his arms at his sides anymore, and she removed her hands from his face as his went to hers. His eyes were narrowed slightly, his face shining as his index finger lightly traced her brow. "Anastasia." He breathed, his other hand holding her cheek.
She was crying again, weakly but in a steady manner. She wanted to be closer to him, to hug him tight against her, but she was afraid he'd disappear in her arms like sand. And he felt the same way, his hands only being able to make small, subtle movements.
For almost two years he had dreamed of the kiss of her lips, the touch of her skin and how it felt to be inside of her. Oh, and how he longed for it, but he couldn't make such a movement now.
His hand went to her neck, squeezing it lightly as he spoke her name again. "Anastasia."
She held his arms, her hand slowly sinking toward his torso. He could hear her thoughts loud and clear, and he nodded in understanding. He was almost afraid to speak it, but he was also afraid to act out the words himself. "You can touch me." He whispered. "I won't disappear."
She watched him speak, a shallow sob leaving her as she nodded, though she didn't move. She almost didn't believe him, her body too afraid to make a movement. She hadn't felt that love in so long, and now that she finally had it back, she didn't know what to do with it. She had gotten trained to forget it, her body putting off all feelings along with her memories. "Touch me." He guided her hands to his shoulders. "See that I'm real. I'm not a dream, Anastasia."
Her knees were against his, her body slightly arched over him as her hands curled around his neck. She bit her lip to keep from sobbing, and her fingers ghosted over the fabric of his chest. She kept looking at his lips, remembering the last time she had kissed them. She cried out at the memory, glancing over at the piano as he cupped her cheek and nodded. "You can kiss me." He whispered, remembering the same memory in his own head as he read her thoughts. His tone practically came out in a beg, and he leaned his forehead against hers. "Kiss me, Anastasia." He practically cried.
She was giving in, her body moving forward as she gripped his shirt. "Don't disappear." She whimpered.
Then, she pressed her lips against his. It wasn't slow like he thought it would be; no, she knew exactly what she was doing. Her hands held his face, her body towering over him as she sat on his lap. His hands went behind her back while hers were in his hair, and their lips finally moved together like the way they were supposed.
It was like a lock and key, the sun and the moon. They molded together like molten lava, their breath coming out in pants and hot against their faces.
He gripped her waist and stood, holding her against him as he held her off the ground. Her feet dangled, and she kept pulling and pulling at his hair to get him closer to her.
And as much as this kiss was perfect to Michael, it was almost causing him pain. He had just missed her so much, and it just seemed impossible that he was kissing her now. Their tongues were moving together, and his back pressed against the piano.
And it was clear Ana felt the same way. There had just been too much time distanced between them, and it had only been fifteen minutes since she had awoken. The overwhelming feeling of joy was mixed with her old memories that she was still trying to process.
Michael's hand went to her hair, and he released a groan into her mouth as he pressed her tighter against him. But then, her sob broke apart their lips, and her hands gripped his shoulders as her body went limp. She wanted to keep going; oh, how much she wanted to kiss and remember the love they had shared, but it was all too much right now.
And Michael understood that, and his arms lowered to hold her around her back. She was sobbing into his chest, loud and sharp ones that made him wince. He hid his face in her neck, his overwhelming emotions also taking over him.
The position they were in, their crying; the last time they had done that was the day at the safe house, and the thought both crossed their minds at the same time.
She cried and he held her, he cried and she held him; because that was simply all the could do for the moment.
~~~
There were no clocks in the room, so Ana wasn't sure how much time had passed. Though, she knew it had been several hours. She had been crying and crying, and she wondered if she would ever stop. Michael never said anything, he just held her tight against him. Sometimes she would jerk her head up and hold his face, sobbing and caressing him to make sure he was real. Then, she'd go right back to crying against him.
Her legs had eventually given out, and she was now perched up on his lap as he sat on the room's leather couch. He had stopped his own crying long ago, though his emotions were matched right along with her. And so now, they both remained quiet, staring at the fire as they held each other tightly. An occasionally whimper or sniffle would leave her, and he'd automatically squeeze her tighter.
Ana had so many questions, but she didn't know what to say. She felt...embarrassed to, awkward even. The time that they were separated didn't just simply vanish. No, it squished it's way inside of her brain along with the memories that hit her like a brick wall. For many hours she was silent, and she searched through them as she remembered moments of her life, friends and family she had known. Michael knew that, and he didn't rush her. After everything he had put her through, she deserved to be alone with her thoughts.
And quite frankly, he didn't know what to say either. They had been separated for twenty five months, equaling two years. Of course, he had seen her sometimes during those months, but it had still felt like a wall was put between them. Their hugging and kissing resumed them right back to where they were, but their lives had changed so much. They had adapted.
That didn't mean their love had changed or it had weakened, they just simply didn't know what to do.
However, Ana could tell the change in him, as well as he noticed it in her. Firstly, his physical appearance. His hair was long past his shoulders, and his hands were calloused and rough against her skin. His eyes were dark, the sweet blue of them being tainted by a gleam she didn't understand. He had dark circles under his eyes, accompanied by a deep shade of red that coated his lids. Truth be told, he looked to be the definition of stress.
Fuck, there had just been too much time.
But, Ana needed to talk, she needed to know something. She gripped the fabric of his black shirt, licking her chapped lips as she took a breath. "You weren't there." She whispered, causing the circular motions of his hand to stop against her thigh. She cringed when she spoke, thinking maybe she should have chosen a less sensitive question.
Michael was ashamed of the answer that he had for her, and a part of him just wanted to pretend he didn't hear her. He was scared. That was it, plain and simple. He had been scared for her, so he put her under the spell. He had been scared for her, so he didn't want to wake her up. He didn't want to talk yet or open the can of worms that he knew would make her cry all over again. He just wanted to lay there and hold her, to kiss her and love her like he was born to do so.
He looked down at her, causing her to look up at him. "Anastasia-"
A loud knock signaled through the room, causing the girl to flinch and widen her eyes. "Who is that?" She tightened herself around him as he stood.
He narrowed his eyes at the door, loosening his hold on her as he sighed. "Venable." He spoke quietly. He turned to look at her, frowning at the nail she was biting. "You should go to your room." He nodded to the other door behind her. "I'm going to be awhile. I'll come to you when I'm done."
Her hands automatically went to his, her eyes filling with tears as she shook her head. "What?" Her voice cracked. "No, I just- No, don't make me leave."
She let out a cry, continuing to shake her head. "No, Michael, please-"
His hand softly covered her mouth, and he stepped forward to pressed his forehead against hers. He gently shushed her, caressing her face as he quieted her cries. "It will be better if you do." He told her, her body jumping when the knock signaled again. He sighed angrily, but he forced himself to stay calm for her sake. "I don't want her knowing you're in here. Go to your room, Anastasia. Eat something. I'll come find you."
I'll come find you.
No, Oh God, no. That's what he had said before. She shook her head, begging him with her eyes. "No, I can hide!" She whispered. "I don't want to leave, Michael-" The knock sounded again, and he grew frustrated as he spun her around.
"Go." He said firmly into her ear, ushering her to the door.
She was panicking, but her feet continued to move in the direction he guided her too. He quickly opened the door and moved her out into the hall, and when she turned around to protest, the door closed in her face. A noisy gasp left her throat at the big, open space of the hallway, and she cowered away as she tried hiding herself from other individuals.
She quickly turned on her heel and darted down the hall to find her room, her short gasps and panicked cries leaving her as she fought to go back to Michael. Her heart stopped when she saw Gallant down the hall, and she quickly moved to the other direction as she darted up the stairs. She was sick, she was physically going to be sick. She was beyond petrified, and Michael had just shoved her out of his room.
Perhaps it had been urgent, but she felt like she had just simply been kicked out. Which, she supposed that's exactly how it had been.
Memories of Hawthorne and the people who lived there flooded her mind, making it pound more than it already was. She squinted her eyes in pain, and she busted through the door of her room as she quickly locked it.
She leaned against it, her body doubling over slightly as she strangled out a sob. She just couldn't get a grip on herself, and her mind, God, her mind was absolutely flooded with memories she still couldn't believe were real. She couldn't get air into her lungs, and she squeezed the doorknob as she held her throat.
She had been asleep for...fuck, how long? Michael had mumbled something about three days, and she wondered how she was even standing without having anything in her system. Though, if a full tray of all her favorite foods were to show up, she knew her stomach wouldn't be able to keep anything down.
She closed her eyes as she searched for those days, the ones before where Michael and her had interacted when she hadn't known who he was. It felt like an utter lifetime ago, and she squeezed her eyes shut as her head pounded.
"A little late for a walk isn't it, Ms. Grey?" She whirled around in a fright, dropping her heels against the cement floor. With her hand on her chest, she breathed in shaky breath as she stared at the strawberry blonde in front of her.
"Mr. Langdon." She bowed her head slightly. "I couldn't sleep, I-"
"Now, now, no need for such pleasantries." He held up a hand, silencing her as she clamped her mouth shut. He stood in the doorway of the kitchen, several feet between them with a thick, tense atmosphere. "It was quite obvious you knew my name upon my arrival." He smirked, tilting his head to the side.
Her face blushed red in embarrassment, and she kept her mouth closed as she looked down.
"Do tell me," He began, slowly making his way towards her. "Do I have the pleasure of calling you by your name as you have I?" He questioned, his boots tapping against the floor in a sinister click. His arms were folded behind his back, his eyes sharp as he watched her with a predatory stare.
She swallowed nervously under his gaze, watching as he closed in on her. His beauty was extremely distracting, and she had to keep herself from staring at him. "I-" She cringed from her stutter, clearing her throat. "Yes, of course." She nodded, forcing a nervous smile. "My name is Anastasia."
It had only been days ago, but with all the memories flush in her mind, it felt like years. Out of fear, she tested the knob to the door to make sure no one could get in. She paced around the room nervously, crying softly as she bit her nails. She eyed the room around her, now feeling uncomfortable in it. She had stayed in there for eighteen months, but she felt her skin crawl as she stayed between the four walls.
She could hear people outside of her room, and she clamped her mouth shut as she froze.
Now, this was just cruel. Over two years they had been separated, and when she finally gained her memory back, he dismisses her like a useless puppy? Of course, it wasn't like he tossed her out into the radiation. After all, this had been her home for many months. But it wasn't that now. She was terrified, images of her life flashing in her mind and making her heart pound. She felt like a piece of meat in a lions den, and her heart ached for the man she had just gotten back.
She quickly made her way to the bathroom, closing the door and locking it as she backed away. She was leaning against the wall, hands on her knees as she forced herself to breathe. She wasn't crying anymore, but she was hyperventilating. Panicking. God, this was too much, and he wasn't there to help her.
She held her head in her hands, forcing out breaths to keep herself alive. "I'm fine. I'm fine." She nodded, holding her stomach as she squeezed her eyes shut. "I'm real." She swallowed, trying not to focus on the memories of her past life.
She opened her eyes, moving to brace herself against the sink as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. She was surprised that the glass didn't shatter, her appearance anything but pretty. "I'm okay." She nodded, her head throbbing slightly.
She moved until the back of her knees hit the linoleum tub behind her, and she stepped inside of it as she sat down. She pulled her knees to her chest, holding them tight as she focused on the wood door. She was real. He was there. She wasn't dreaming. She was fine.
She burned it into her brain, pressing her face to her knees as she tried to ignore the pain in her head.
She felt fuzzy, like her mind was ignited with fireworks that wouldn't let her think properly. She needed Michael to help her, but he wasn't fucking there. And so, she sat there. She didn't realize how quickly the time had passed, but almost two hours had gone by with her face hidden away. And when she felt warm hands against her arms, a husky—silky voice speak out, she jumped. "Anastasia."
Her face snapped up, and her features fell in relief when she seen him in front of her. "Michael." She all but whimpered like a baby. She threw her arms around his neck, clambering to her knees so she could press herself against him.
"I'm here." He whispered, holding her tight. He held the back of her head, kissing the shell of her ear as he spoke softly. "I'm here. I'm here."
Her hands were in his hair, her eyes closed shut as she practically molded into him. Her body was more at peace than it had been before, the knots of stress slowly becoming undone. She was exhausted, believe it or not, having been asleep for three days. It was just her head that hurt so bad, and the overwhelming love that was now in her heart. She hadn't had it before, and it was almost too overpowering.
He held her for a few minutes, before he narrowed his eyes when he realized she was in the bathtub. He went to pull away, but she only tightened her grip on him. "No, don't let me go." Her voice cracked, pausing his movements. "Please, don't let me go."
His eyes softened as he held her, and his arms moved tighter around her waist as he kissed her temple. He could hear her thoughts racing a mile a minute, her memories swarming around like bees that wouldn't let her rest. He sighed, turning his face slightly. "What's going on in that head of yours, Anastasia?"
He figured the question was stupid, considering she had everything going on in her head. He could feel how overwhelmed she was, and his hands lightly petted her curls as he kissed her ear.
Ana was stressed, despite how happy she was that he was with her. But she couldn't settle on which emotion was more prominent. There were things they needed to talk about, and there had been so much time between them. But she didn't think she could, not right now anyways. She was too overwhelmed, and she just wanted him with her. She pulled away as she grabbed his face, her eyes shining as her lips parted. "I don't.." She swallowed, and he held the base of her neck as he nodded.
"I don't know what to say." She took a shaky breath, her eyes checking over his features again. "And I don't...know what to do." She sniffled, shaking her head as a tear fell down her face.
He caught it with his thumb, and he quickly wiped it away as he tangled his hand in her hair.
"Talk." She choked out, her eyes going to his as she pushed out a breath. "We should talk about...stuff, right?" She sniffled as she grabbed his forearms, looking down. "There's...a lot to talk about."
His finger traced the shape of her jaw, his eyes glimmering over hers. "Do you want to talk about it?" He asked softly, tilting his chin up to her.
Her eyes brimmed with bright tears, and she looked to his chest as she thought. They should, they really should, but she didn't want to talk about anything now. She couldn't even think straight, and she swallowed as her face wanted to twist into tears. She shook her head softly, gripping his hands as she looked down.
He frowned at her shyness, and he lifted her chin. "Hey." He said softly. "We don't have to."
She let out a small cry. "Michael there's..there's been so much time between us." She sniffled. "So much has happened and we-"
"Don't have to talk about it tonight." He interrupted, moving to hold her face. "We'll talk about it, sweetheart. But we don't have to do it now."
She was growing emotional again, and she whimpered as she grabbed his shirt. "You're real, right?" She cried, wincing from the pain in her head. "Oh, God, my head hurts so bad and I can't- please, just be real."
"I'm real." He nodded, pulling her forehead to his. "I'm real, Anastasia." He put her hands against his face, speaking against her. "Feel me. Feel that I'm real. I found you, just like I promised I would."
Her hands fell to his shoulders in exhaustion, and she leaned against his forehead as she cried softly. "I'm real." He continued, pulling lightly on her hair as he kissed her nose. "I'm here. I'm yours. I've always been yours, and you've always been mine." He kissed the corner of her mouth, then her cheek and to her forehead. "Mine. My girl. I found my girl. I found you, Anastasia. I'll always find you."
He repeated the words as she cried, their limbs once again locked together tightly like glue. It just didn't seem real, yet it was. It was very real. Eventually, he carried her into her room, where she curled against his chest on her silk bed. He continued kissing her and holding her, rocking her like a baby as she tried fighting off her headache.
Her mind had eventually excepted that he was, in fact, real, and he never disintegrated from her arms like sand. He was there, with his warm hands and cold rings.
Michael was there, and she had finally, finally gotten him back.
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OMFGGG WE MADE IT YA'll. FLASHBACKS ARE OVER NOW‼️‼️
i hope y'all liked this chapter cuz it took me HOURS to write, friends.
anyways...we ready for this?😎 god, i'm so ready but so nervous at the same time lmao. i haven't wrote this michael in so long so it's def gonna be challenging.
also, happy birthday to my lord and savior lana del rey because she was my gay awakening🤩
love u, friends! see you next chapter<3