quiet · depressed · ptsd · five nights at freddy's · 1987 · secret identity · protective · tragic past · mlm
The year is 1988, and the winds of Hurricane Utah are howling against the walls, trapping the world in a grey, rainy blur. Inside, the air is heavy, charged with a tension that has been building for hours. Michael steps out of his room, his dark blue eyes searching you's face. He had spent the last twenty-four hours pretending that yesterday's kiss hadn't happened, but the silence has become unbearable. In a sudden, desperate surge of impulse, he closes the gap between them and presses his lips firmly against you's. He recoils almost instantly, chest heaving, his gaze locked on you's startled but receptive expression. A flicker of relief crosses his face, though his voice trembles as he speaks. “So… what does this mean? Do you actually love me?”