Micheal actually wasn't there.
This little fact, kind of freaked you out, because you could hear him talking. Sure, it was muffled, but it was still there. He sounded... calmer than he usually did.
Almost every time you saw him with other people, his voice was harsh, and you could practically feel porcupine quills being shot at you in his mind. It was part of what made him ultimately terrifying. Well, that and the way he was constantly frowning and glaring at people.
A screech made you flinch as you looked around in a confused daze. Where the fuck was all this coming from?
You quickly realized that the Sanctum Sanctorum was huge, and Micheal probably had more room than you could see.
You started your search off with a quick face-palm before moving. This was so you knew how dumb you were being. Then, you looked in his closet. Fun fact: it was filled with both angsty and 'normal' clothes the way it should be.
Next, you decided to look in what had to be a bathroom. Fun fact: Micheal has struck a gold mine. His bathroom is fucking awesome. (It has very nice facilities and pretty elite looking tiles.)
Finally, as if you'd never been in Micheal's room before, you see a door that was about half your size, like it was meant for children. You also quickly notice the fact that the door had been bigger, but it got downsized, probably per Micheal's request.
You shrug, ignoring all the reasons not to, and you open the door, crawling through without a second thought.
Fun fact: Micheal's room was bigger than you'd cared to notice.
Your previously skeptical look turned into one of slight surprise and something you could only really describe as awe.
You'd crawled into a music room of sorts. Well, that's what it looked like where you were. The room was split, but you couldn't really see the other parts of it yet.
You could, however, see Micheal. He was... playing the violin? Love's Sorrow, by Fritz Kreisler, a piece you'd heard while growing up. (Your mother played the piano composition.)
The violin was... gorgeous, to say the least. You'd never heard so much emotion put into it. There was frustration, pain, sadness... you were almost frozen by the sound of it.
And he, upon seeing you, stopped with a squeak.
"Y/n? What the hell are you doing here?" he asked, looking more scared than angry. (It still sounded like he was angry though, that was just how his voice was at this point.)
You chuckled, standing up and brushing the dust off of your knees.
"When the hell did you learn how to play an instrument?" You retorted. A moment ago, he looked relaxed, happy even. You felt a pang of guilt as you realized you just took that from him.
Micheal rolled his eyes, "Everyone's had their thing. Scarllet has science, Malissa has makeup, Maverik his kickboxing, Katie has soccer and her Disney movies, and Chloe has reading and being a bitch. You're an agent. My thing's always been music. I just don't play in front of crowds anymore because it...'s stupid." he shrugged, "My parents taught both Maverik and I to play, but Maverik never really stuck with it. He just..." Micheal shrugged again, "I guess it reminds him of mom and dad too much or something. But whatever. If he wants to forget about them and everything they've done for us, that's his thing."
It was obviously bothering him because he went from looking anxious to hurt, but you knew he wouldn't talk about it right now. The two of you were close, but you were no Mercedes.
"Well, what other instruments do you play?" you asked, stepping further into the room. You were slightly surprised by the fact that Micheal didn't seem to mind you walking further into his space. However, you didn't question it. If Micheal was starting to actually trust you, you weren't going to question him. He's already upset enough with this week's occurrences.
Micheal gave you a tired look, which surprised you a little. His mood had changed completely, which usually only happened with anger.
He shrugged, motioning for you to follow him as he walked further into the room you'd stumbled upon. His steps echoed throughout the room as he walked, and you could hear the way he was dragging them. You were starting to wonder if he'd forgotten to take his medication, which usually helped to stabilize his depressive mood swings. You would've asked him, but you figured he wouldn't like that and decided against it.
He pointed over to a little corner to your right, and you couldn't help but notice the slight quiver in his hand as he did. You wanted to read his mind, you wanted to look inside his brain so you knew exactly how to fix what was wrong, but you also knew that Micheal didn't work like that. He'd know, and he wouldn't talk to you for weeks.
In the small corner, there were about seven instruments. From what you could tell, he had a clarinet, flute, saxophone, guitar, drum set, cello, trumpet, and a stand for a violin. It honestly looked like he was keeping a small band's instruments here in his room, but you knew better. Micheal didn't have that many friends-- he wasn't very good at keeping them.
They were all in mint condition, from what you knew (which was quite a lot). The brass and woodwind instruments were polished and clean, and the area around them was also pretty free of dust. However, what really caught your eye, was Steinwaynway piano that was a few feet away.
It was the classic black color, and you couldn't help but gape at the perfect condition it was in. You wanted to play it, but you didn't know how dirty your fingers were. You didn't want to taint its perfect image with your fucked everything.
And yet, there you stood, yearning to sit on top of the perfect looking bench. You wanted to play Love's sorrow, the way your mother had taught you. Maybe that would help you recover the dream you had, along with it's hidden meanings...
No. You stopped yourself, mentally backhanding your face, no amount of anything will help you with your mental shit. Forget it Y/n.
Micheal seemed to notice you struggling, because he reached out and put a hand on your shoulder, "C'mon, Y/n. I've gotta take my meds. You can come back later and play it when you don't look like you're going to shit yourself."
You chuckled at that, wondering how he saw your face. It probably did look like you were going to shit yourself.
You nodded, realizing that you'd been right. Micheal hadn't taken his meds yet.
"Yeah, let's go."