byler oneshots

82 - talk to me

•mike pov•
•fall of sophomore year•
•together - angst + fluff•

I wake up and feel the breeze through my open window, flipping onto my back and staring up at the ceiling.

"Michael! School! Get up!" I hear my mom yell from downstairs, perfectly on schedule.

When will this cycle be over?

I slowly get up, grabbing a pair of dark blue jeans and a red sweatshirt along with my red converse. I brush through my hair, refusing to look at myself in the mirror because I know I won't look at myself again for the rest of the day.

I run my coarse fingers over the bags under my eyes from crying and lack of sleep, stealing some of Nancy's makeup to cover it like I've been doing for the last few months.

I've been suffering in silence, and I don't know how much longer I can do it. My family knows I've been dealing with depression and anxiety, but none of my friends do, not even Will.

I know that I've been so distant from him lately, and that's not fair as a friend and especially not fair as a boyfriend. Tears run down my cheeks as I think about how much I've kept to myself.

"Michael?" my mom says, knocking on the door. She opens it slowly and her face softens when she sees tears running down my pale cheeks.

"You're having a bad morning again?" she asks, wrapping her arms around me.

"Yeah." I say softly.

"How about you stay home and rest?" she says, leaning away. I feel pressure immediately lifted off my shoulders as I hug her one last time before she goes to work. I put on pajama pants and lay in bed, listening to music and occasionally drifting off to sleep, only the sound of the wind whistling through the bare trees outside my window .

I guess I fall asleep fully, because I am awoken to the sound of the doorbell downstairs and the clock already reads 2:55 pm. I try to ignore it and fall back asleep, but a minute later, the bell rings again.

I groan and get up, staggering out into the hall away and down the stairs to the front door, trying to fix my hair in the reflection of the pictures hanging on the wall, even though it's probably just the mail man or a neighbor asking for a favor.

I reach for the handle and open the door, but it feels like my stomach drops when I see Will standing in front of me.

"W - Will." I stutter.

"You should probably come in." I say, knowing that I will finally have to explain what's been going on.

He follows me inside and we go upstairs to my room, standing across from one another awkwardly.

"Mike. Talk to me. You've been missing a lot of school and I feel like even when we're together, you're not really there." Will says softly, tears welling up in my eyes.

"I'm so sorry." I cry, staring down at my feet.

"Oh, Mike. What's wrong?" he asks, coming over to me and taking my hands in his.

"It's just that - I - I've been dealing with depression and anxiety for a long time. It's really hard to just get out of bed some days, and I know I've been distant, but I can't help it. I'm so, so sorry." I cry, looking up at him. He looks so sad. Sad for me.

"Mike, I had no clue. I'm so sorry. Let's sit down." he says, walking with me to the bed. He lays down and I lay my head on his chest, crying into his sweater. He kisses my head and lays with me for hours as we both drift off to sleep.