Chapter 31

                                    

                                          
Writer's Note- This definitely won't be the only Lorde song, lol. I feel like this is how Mike's feeling. Also. Remember to vote, think of it like a Christmas gift to me.
                          
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I couldn't sleep. I twisted and turned in my bed sheets feeling hot and feeling agitated. My tattoos felt like pulsating ants swarming across my skin. I'd gotten too used to the warm reliable feel of Mike against my back. Too used to the warmth of his sleeping breaths glossing over my ear as his arm was lazily slung over my waist and he snuggled against my back. 
                          
Somehow the distance between us felt further than across these few rooms. I stared at the door wondering if Mike would come to the room even though I told him not to. I sat up on my bed, crossing my legs and putting my face in my hands, pulling at my hair. I just couldn't wrap my head around it. 
                          
Mike drinking...Mike drunk...I just couldn't believe it. I thought I was the one with all the issues. I felt kind of blindsided by all this. The idea of Mike having a single flaw felt wrong, setting everything askew. 
                          
I grabbed my phone from the bedside table and started to google exactly how the fuck I was supposed to handle this. I scrolled on my phone for a while, clicking links and reading articles. By the time I felt like I'd read everything that would help me and I was ready to go back to sleep the birds had already started chirping and my room was bathed in the cool pink light of oncoming day. I groaned, getting up to get ready for the day.
                          
I ambled into the kitchen, turning on the kettle and then looking into the living room. Mike was deeply asleep, blankets forgotten on the floor and hugging one of his pillows. I convinced myself that he missed sleeping next to me and the pillow was just a poor substitute. I saw a few empty bottles of water lined up on the floor and I realized Mike would probably wake up pretty hungover. 
                          
I greased up a pan deciding to make French toast and eggs, with a side of bacon. Mike only let himself have unhealthy meals once or twice a week and I didn't really have an extensive food repertoire so hopefully Mike's arteries would survive a bit of fried food. 
                          
I plated everything and left it on the coffee table in the living room with a couple of painkillers and a mug of coffee before I went to the bathroom to take a shower. 
                          
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I towelled off my hair as I left the bathroom, feeling rejuvenated after letting the hot steam soak into my skin. I heard Mike on the phone and wandered into the living room seeing that he looked...rough.  He was facing away from me on the couch and I got a view of his shoulders and back.
                          
He was sitting up, having pushed the mattress back into the couch. From where I was standing I could only see his side profile and he didn't seem to notice me watching him a few feet away. Mike pushed his fingers through his hair. "Yeah...I'm sorry. I can't come in today. I don't feel well, but I can make it up tomorrow by starting early and finishing late." He paused. "Are you sure? Okay, happy holidays to you, too." He put his phone down and bent over resting his elbows on his thighs as he pressed his face into his hands, sighing heavily. 
                          
Mike's phone started ringing and he picked it up, "Hi." There was a long silence. "Yeah Julio, I fucked up last night. Three years of being sober down the fucking drain. Mierda." He started talking in Spanish with a lot of sís and nos. "Yeah we can meet for lunch, I'm going to AA after. Okay. Bye, Julio." 
                          
I walked further into the living pleased that Mike had eaten what I'd made for him but his face fell as soon as I went and sat across from him on the love seat. I dried the ends of my hair with the towel before pushing the cloth between my fingers to give my hands something to do. Eventually, I looked at him, waiting for him to say something.