Can't Tell The Difference

• Pâro •

"I needed you to stay..

..but I let you drift away."

"My love where are you?"

"Where's he?" I leaned on the door of the beach house as my aunt let me in.

The house was wooden styled, not as small as I expected and not as big as I hoped it would be. Though, it fitted us just fine, considering the huge luggages my aunt brought them with her.

So I wouldn't say I didn't like it. On the contrary, the house was very beautiful.

Just if it had me and Mikhail only.

"He's in his bedroom," aunt scratched the back of her neck, she was wearing an apron that had yellow and red tulips. "He has been sleeping too heavily, we tried to wake him up but-"

"What happened?" I nervously questioned.

"Oh, you have no idea, Evelyn." My aunt shook her head with astonishment. "He had that sudden energy boost where he started to clean the whole house, organize the wardrobes and shelves, he even helped us unpack all the stuff, we didn't get to do anything-"

I sighed, reaching for his bedroom. Again, typical dedicated Mikhail had to make it difficult for me and himself and couldn't take one moment of self care just to exhaust himself with too much effort that he had no need to be involved with.

That moment had me realizing that it was just the way he was, productive to the extent. I couldn't just stop him from what made him feel functional the most.

As I opened the door, I found him exhaustingly laying on an orange couch, his hair was kind of a mess and his cheeks possessed the color of rose.

"Make sure if he's breathing." Mom whispered behind the door, causing me to flinch backwards. While my aunt watched us from afar, curiosity was killing her.

"Privacy please." I frowned my eyebrows, proceeding to close the door.

I didn't need to have them seeking in to see how depleted Mikhail seemed to be.

Obviously they were the ones who had him worn out in the first place.

"Okay, okay!" Mom hissed with widened eyes as she stepped backwards.

I closed the door and then rushed to him, kneeling on my knees.

I slowly stroked his hair, cupping his cheek. He hummed in satisfaction.

"Mikhail?" I whispered, "Are you okay?"

He wearily opened his eyes, the moment he acknowledged my presence, a whole jovial smile extended to his rosy cheeks.

"I'm fine." he closed his eyes again, silent for another moment. "I just worked my ass off a little bit too much today." he mumbled, digging his face in the pillow.