More Than You Know

I drove home trying to keep my seemingly uncontrollable temper under the maximum limit, and, as you probably know that’s not the easiest thing to do. A small part of me wanted Michael to be sitting on the couch when I walked into the living room, we would apologize to each other and then go about living our normal lives together. But a smaller part of me never wanted to see him again, as immature as that really is.

I pushed all thought pertaining to him out of my brain and walked into my empty apartment.

“Well, maybe he will be home tonight.” I whispered to myself, but a feeling in my gut told me that wasn’t going to happen. It told me something had happened, something not so good, something that had happened because of our argument.

I grabbed my keys off of the desk where I had thrown them and walked straight back out the door to search for Michael, and apologize, no matter whose fault it was. A gaping whole inside me reminded me that I already missed him and hit had only been about an hour since I saw him last. The longest we had been apart since he moved in.

I scoured the Chicago streets for hours, looking for any sign of him. Anything to tell me where he might be, okay or not. Finally, as I was about to turn around and wait for him at home, I saw his blonde mop. Lying on the sidewalk in an alley, against a wall.

That’s not good.

“Michael.” I breathed walking up to him warily.

He looked like he had gotten hit by a train, though robbed would probably be more appropriate for what happened to him.

“Michael, say something.” I said running my fingers through his hair.

I grabbed his wrist and checked for a pulse, thank god I found one, and he’s just unconscious, which means I didn’t come too late.

I scooped him up in my arms and placed him carefully in the passenger seat where I drove like a maniac to get him home and on the couch where I could assess his injuries.

Besides from a rather large bruise on the forehead and a bloody lip, he didn’t look to be too injured, so I cleaned his lip, put an ice pack on his forehead, and perched myself across the room to wait for him to wake up.

Hours passed until he finally woke up, groaning, and sat up to look around to try to figure out where he might be.

“Hey, sleepy.” I said walking over to him slowly.

“Where am I?” He asked, taking the ice pack off of his head.

“Home, I found you and it looked like you had gotten robbed, so I took you home.”

“Oh.”

I sighed and sat next to him.

“Look Michael, I wanted to apologize for our argument earlier, I was being an ass and you don’t deserve it.”

He wore an expression of shock and happiness that he was home, surprised because I was the one apologizing first.

“Yeah, I think I did, I was walking, and I went to turn around to come home to apologize to you, but I got lost and that’s all I remember.”

“Well thank god you didn’t get hurt too bad, and you’re home now, safe and where you will stay, because I want you to stay with me forever.”

“I would like that.” He smiled, before remembering the pain in his bottom lip.

I’m not quite sure what this means as far as our relationship, but I don’t really care, because as long as he is involved, I will be happy too.