Toska| MICHAELxREADER

22- dirty work

okay, so it has some to my attention that I have never properly introduced myself the way Griffin has in these stories. They insist that I tell others when I am the one writing the chapters because they don't want to be blamed for the tragic events.

so, before I start, I'll do an introduction for myself.
My name is Matteo. unlike Griffin, I come from Italy. I moved to Whitchurch England around 5 years ago whenever we decided that we wanted to start living together. We met in an apartment complex in The Netherlands.
my account is MatteoIsNotHere, and I often use that account to reply to comments on other stories written...some are more embarrassing as others, especially when my own partner gets on and makes fun of them.

I am a less skilled writer and artist than Griffin. no they are not holding me at gun point to say that, it is true.
(please don't hurt my family)
this is why I end up getting saddled with either filler chapters or angsty stuff. they like writing fluffy things while I'm a cringe emo, as they say.

often you can tell what chapters I've written based on writing style. I put in a lot of Italian into my writing, which Griffin finds to be annoying. I do not care. they can suck my cock, it's my chapter.

anyways. that's all from me. I don't answer DM's so don't try.
I dont like feet. I am not submissive. don't listen to Griffin. She's crazy.
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1st person Michael POV

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I push away from Y/N when they fall asleep. It was cold, but they're body heat was overwhelming me. for some reason, I wasn't a big fan of the personal touch tonight. It was probably because I was on edge.

I got out of bed, making sure to go slow so I wouldn't wake Y/N up. they slept like candlelight some nights, and heavy on others. Thankfully they only shifted a little, and it was to pull the covers back over them.

I didn't like leaving the bed at night. I knew they grew agitated sometimes, so I try to make my non-angry trips quick. This time, I went into thr kitchen, where Y/N had a slushy waiting for me in the fridge.

I wasn't sure what it was, but the sharp pain I get in my brain after drinking a slushy made me feel a good sort of way. it didn't hurt too bad, and it didn't last long enough to make me uncomfortable. it was quick, sharp, and made my mouth taste metallic.

I sat down at the kitchen table, perched on one of the stools while I took a long sip from the slushy. it was mostly ice now since I left it in the freezer too long, but the little but of fruity slush that I got was fine. it was good enough for tonight.

I stuck it into the fridge so it could melt a bit by morning.

I ended up just standing in the middle of the kitchen for a while. My stomach hurt, and it was cold. I wasn't wearing a shirt, so the draft was crazy.

It was almost Christmas.

my family used to go all out for Christmas. my mother would do the front yard and outside of the house, and my siblings and I would do the inside. My father was heartless and stone cold, so he just sat and watched, usally with some kind of alcohol in hand. he drank a lot after my younger brother was born, and even more after his death.

I stepped out of the kitchen and went through the sitting room, out to the balcony. It was cold...almost so cold that it hurt to be outside. however, the pain was comforting, in a way.

The pack of cigarettes on the table remained unopened. I told Y/N that I would try to stop, and I didn't realize how addicted I was until I went complete cold turkey. It was painful, and I started to have short outbursts of energy. most of it was anger.