Come to me, Sweet Child

Chapter 12: Keep It Company Appropriate

Michael sits on the floor for a while, letting the conversation he just had sink in. He combs a hand halfway through his hair, before ruffling it in frustration.
"Ahh, why, why, why, Michael what is wrong with you?"
The purple man stares up at the ceiling, where dim little neon green lights shine. It was quiet, the last of the customers seemed to be gone. Michael removes himself from the floor, insides laying out like limp spaghetti noodles. He didn't really know what to do about it; this day was...odd enough for him so getting help was definitely off the table. There was also the matter of how he'd explain his poorly made excuse to Max without seeming like the most disgusting person ever. There was already the stigma about people in power being complete weirdos... Michael didn't even want to be in that category that made him feel even more like his dad than he would like to. Grabbing his insides off the floor, Michael stuffs them back in himself, using his shirt as an improv bandage to keep them from spilling out for the time being.
"Mr.Afton,"
"JEEZ MAX,"
The tall dark man is standing, arms crossed, outside the bathroom door.
"What are you doing out here, shouldn't you be-"
"Locking up? Yes, but due to someone handling their "business" in the bathroom, I can't exactly do that."
"Aha, I'm pretty sure I have the keys though,"
"Course you do, you're the boss! I would have been more...open to the idea if you had told me it was more of a medical emergency."
Max looks down at the shirt across Michael's abdomen then back to his face.
"This? Oh no, this is nothing."
Max sighs.
"Mr.Afton, I really think you should seek help if it's bad enough to the point where you have to use your work shirt to cover it up."
Max shifts, his hands resting on his hips now. Michael goes to his office, making sure everything looks good, before coming back, patting Max on the shoulder, and telling him goodnight.

He's walking out into the night now, moon high in the sky, and a slight breeze blowing by. Michael stops to look behind him. Max can't be seen, but his stare can be felt. The purple man stares down before looking forward in the direction of his home.
There was always no place like home.
At some point, Michael had decided to take a short-cut-walk through the forest. The leaves on the ground below and on the trees above rustled with the wind, reminding him of a time in the past. A moment, where there was nothing but children's laughter and other sounds of youth and life. Michael stops, his vision blurring slightly. He moves to the lean against a tree to stabilize himself, before sliding to the base, and resting his head on the trunk. An overwhelming tightness began to rise in his throat. Fearing the worst happening again, Michael yanks off the shirt around his abdomen, exposing his broken wires and cords to the outside again. Then mechanical tentacles shoot out of his stomach- the sudden movement causes more stitches to unravel. Raw and practically dead skin is torn and shredded, leaving Michael in utter pain as the curse of his inability to die allows him to feel every inch of himself.

Screams of agony sound throughout the forest. Wolves that may have been ready to howl at the moon stayed quiet. Not even the birds of the forest dared to fly off in fear. Whatever deity was letting Michael have his grieving moment, gave him all the respect they could. The whole world became still as Michael lay there, panting, tired, body limp. He didn't want to move, but he had to, business was not finished. He was not finished. Beyond tired, yet still alive, Michael got up. He got up and continued walking. Step after step, no matter how much it hurt: the memories, the pain, the deep metaphorical hole within him- He couldn't rest. Michael had to finish what his father started.

He had to.

Upon reaching his back door, Michael falls onto the stairs. He was exhausted, his body refused to move anymore, all the wires and had looped themselves around his legs, adding more weight to them. Looking up, Michael finds a small box of chalk. Who put it there, who knows? All the young man knew was that he was either gonna sleep on the steps or in the doorway. He'd never have enough energy to make it up the actual stairs, located in his home, to his bedroom.
"Screw this then, I'll open the door in the morning."
So Michael slept outside.

Upon morning, Michael woke up to the feeling of hot metal and something sharp and grainy digging into his side. The purple man grumbles lowly, before staggering to his feet, and pulling out his keys. Sleeping on the stairs wasn't really the best course of action, because it left Michael with an extra side of pain and exhaustion from having a bunch of live wires coiled around his legs.
"Ahh, why don't I just cut them off..."
He leans against a broken grandfather clock staring off into space. Then, as if suddenly coming to a realization, Michael's eyes go wide.
"Yea... why the hell don't I just cut these off?"
He excitedly goes to the bathroom, as it was the place where he kept any and everything he could use to fix himself up if necessary. Digging through his cabinet, Michael laughs maniacally as he pulls out wire cutting pliers. Why did he have them in the first place? Well...
"Cause I was too much of a pussy to cut my wires before."
Leaning up against the tub, the young man eagerly grabs a bulk of wires and steadies the pliers around them. Beginning to slowly cut in, Michael can't help shake off an odd sensation. He became doubtful, anxious, about whether he should cut the wire or not. Deciding to do another wire, Michael places it and cuts slowly, yet again there's an odd sensation. His building frustration was growing more and more by the second.
"What's wrong Michael...scared?"
"ARGH, GET OUT OF MY HEAD."
Michael applies pressure to the pliers, suddenly cutting through a wire and nipping another slightly.
"MOTHER F-"
He thought he couldn't feel anything much before, but this, he was sure feeling everything.
The pain is like an electric shock, traveling in waves throughout Michael's body. He coughs weakly, body spasming as he moves to clutch his stomach.
"That wasn't such a smart decision."
He groans and furrows his brow in pain, hand reaching up to grab the side of the sink. Michael wobbles on legs that he can barely feel. His vision sways and distorts as he makes his way bent over, to his room.
"God please make the spinning stop-"
He falls to his knees, coughing more wildly. The light around him seems to fade in and out before just going out completely. Helpy, who apparently was within the house, makes his way up the stairs, jumping and climbing every step with little effort. What he had done yesterday while Michael was at work is unknown, but the little bear was slightly concerned he didn't hear Michael get back in last night before powering down. He had only become aware of the back door after coming out of rest mode and noticing it open before closing it a couple minutes ago. If not Michael, Helpy was fairly certain someone was here, he had heard the coughing upstairs and assumed the worst. Can't always be too relaxed in a quiet neighborhood.