Page 80 of Micro
“That’s it now, right? No more using your face as a stress release device?”
Micro snorted, falling back on the pillows and groaning as his eyes closed. We’d come back at midday to patch him up in private, and eat, and now we were in the bedroom, and I was waiting for him to say something about the things we’d seen and heard today. Grease was back and keeping things ticking over, although he was already talking about how he was looking forward to the next visit from ‘PC Pain-In-My-Ass’ as he’d dubbed her. Nothing good could come of that situation, but it was a problem for another day.
“Are you going to sleep?” I finally asked Micro, and he chuckled softly, his eyes still closed.
“It’s the middle of the day, babe, of course not. I’m kinda in some pain though, so I thought I’d just lay still a while, if that’s okay?”
I stroked his cheek and he smiled.
“You didn’t run from me,” he whispered, as his eyes finally opened again, and he turned his head to look at me.
“You’re observant. Is that something they teach you when you live the club life?”
He chuckled again, turning on his side, and wincing as his bruised face pressed against the pillow.
“I wouldn’t blame you though. I know my story is full of horrors, and most of them happened to the people who trusted me.”
Was that how he saw it? Did he not see himself as a victim too, of his upbringing, of his childhood, of his family. He’d been a damaged child, raised in a hellish environment, left clinging to his belief that his father was the good guy, and his destroyers were the monsters.
“What about the horrors that happened to you?”
His eyes lowered, and he grew distant, staying silent for way too long. I almost spoke again, but then he sighed.
“They don’t matter. Whether they shaped who I am or not, it doesn’t justify anything I did. Others go through shit and don’t turn psycho. Maybe I’m just my father’s son. Maybe that’s all I’ll ever be.”
“No.” I pressed a finger over his lips, then moved it again when he winced, the poor thing, so beaten and bruised again.
“Sorry. I just want you to stop brushing it under the carpet, like it doesn’t matter. You were raised by a monster, and lived in hell, and you came out the best you could, but you didn’t stay that way. You grew. You changed. You evolved. You’re a better person now, and you deserve a chance.”
He sighed, shaking his head slowly. “Nobody else thinks that way, and with good reason. The things I did… Jesus, I can’t even fathom now how I could be that fucking twisted. What went wrong in my head, to make me act that way… it makes me fear myself, in case I lose it again.”
How could he still be thinking he was a bad guy? Did he really not realise what he’d been doing to himself?
“You don’t get what those substances were doing to you, do you?”
His gaze became a little shifty, and he looked away from me. Did he think I didn’t know?
“Steroids, Micro, and your testosterone levels were off the charts when you got here. You don’t think that crap messes with your perception? With your brain chemistry? It causes paranoia, and rages, and it doesn’t let you think clearly. You had a bad upbringing, yeah, but that crap you were using was making it ten times worse. You’re not that man now.”
Micro reached up and stroked my cheek, his eyes wide, and full of love. This man who had such a huge heart, was absolutely not the man they’d known. I just wished they could see it.
“You’re too good for me, babe. I deserve exactly what they decide I deserve, but every second I get with you is a fucking honour I’ll never waste. You’re the one who deserves more, but it turns out I still have my asshole genes, because I’m planning on keeping you anyway.” He hesitated, rolled his eyes.
“Obviously I’m just being a macho fucktard, babe. If you want out, I’d never force you to stay with me. If you change your mind about me, I’ll never stand in your way.”
Was that supposed to hurt so much? Was it supposed to feel like my heart being torn from my chest? He was being sweet, and saying the right things, but all I heard was…I won’t fight for you.
“Babe?” I didn’t even realise I’d pulled away from him, but I was up and walking out of the room, before I could even process what I was doing.
“Jesus, babe, what did I say? Come on, don’t run from me.”
Was that what I was doing? Was I running from him, or was I just trying to distance myself, long enough to absorb the fact that not even Micro thought I was worth fighting for. Would anyone ever see me as so important to them, that they needed to do everything to keep me? I wasn’t the kind of person others invested in, was I? It wasn’t about wanting to feel important, or special. It was about wanting to be wanted. Just because of who I was.
“Soph, please, whatever I said, please, just talk to me. You know I’m not great with words, but I’m trying.”
Micro caught my arm and spun me, backing me up to the wall outside the kitchen.
“I’m sorry, I’m going back on everything I just said, because I said if you wanted out, I’d let you, but I can’t just let you walk away. Please talk to me. Whatever I fucked up, please let me try to fix it. Please don’t be the one person I can’t even have that chance with, when you’re the only one who fucking matters!”
