[✔] ▼ 𝙵𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚑 𝙱𝚒𝚝𝚎 ▲ Miguel O'Hara x Reader▼ 𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝟷/ 𝟸

▸ TWENTY ONE ◂

The antidepressants made you feel a lot better. And you noticed an improvement in your attitude. You even started to socialize again. However, you made sure to keep your prescription a secret. You felt that if everyone knew, they'd continue to treat you differently like you weren't actually getting better. And overall, it just made you feel more pathetic if they knew about it.

"I'm glad you're doing better, (y/n)." Jessica hugs you.

"You look full of beans now, nitwit." Hobie nudges you playfully.

Although he sounds insulting, you know he means well. Jessica shakes her head with a sour look towards him. 

"Thank you, really." You smile at them. " I hope you guys will continue to support me; I'm still recovering."

Jessica and Lyla smile at you, along with a smirk from Hobie. On his computer screens, Miguel watches it all. He sees your improvement, and he's genuinely happy for you. His only regret is that he isn't a factor in that happiness. He wishes to be happy with you.

You gradually get back into working against anomalies. You covered the minor ones with Hobie's help, but you didn't do more than five a day. And even that was not more than the usual. But you decided it's better than fifteen a day.

Finished with your load of work for the day, you head back to your room. You decide to have yourself a spa day, just to pamper yourself and release the building stress you have. Of course, just because you're showing the others that you're okay, doesn't mean everything is magically okay with you. Although the medicine has helped improve your motivation and emotions, you still have that ache in you.

A hot shower helped to put you at ease. You stepped out, dried yourself, put lotion on, and put on your clothes. To begin your skincare routine came the hairband . . . But, your mind is filled with Miguel and your first kiss with him. You cradle your hurting heart, suddenly not wanting to indulge yourself anymore. Sighing, you gaze out the window of your room. Deep down, you always longed for Miguel. But this time, you didn't push it back.

"Please, come home to me, mon amour." You whisper to who you wish was Miguel. But it was only a star, fading away in the distance.

 - - - - -

Miguel comes into your room that night as you were sleeping. He does this regularly to check on you, but lately, he hasn't because you seem happier now. And since you're happier, he thinks you've started to move on from him. So, to make it hurt less, he's put distance. That way he can do the same and move on. 

But tonight, he wanted to say a final goodbye. As well as wishing for your well-being. He walks closer to your bed, trying to be as quiet as possible. As he stands near your bed, however, he notices some pill bottles on your nightstand. Picking it up, he learns that they are antidepressants prescribed to you just recently. A wave of guilt washes over his body.

He began to have thoughts such as: Why didn't you tell anyone?  This is all my fault. I thought she was finally moving on. Why am I so selfish? What have I done?

Tears prickled his eyes as he kneels beside your bed. The sorrow and anguish he felt from being wrong with his accusations was unbearable. He holds your hand to his face and begins to let out quiet sobs. Unfortunately for him, you awoke to your hand feeling warm and wet.

Startled, you call out his name, as though it was a reflex, "Miguel?"

He softly gasps, snapping his head up towards you. With the limited amount of lighting from the moonlight, you were barely able to see his shimmering eyes.

"Mi . . . guel? Is everything alright?" You managed to utter, not knowing how to talk to him.

You were still in the process of waking up, so you weren't able to tell if this was all real or not, if it was really Miguel in front of you. His mouth moves, but no words come out.

You desperately embrace him into a hug, sobbing into his shoulder, "I don't know if this is a dream or not. I beg it isn't . . . Just come back to me, please. I'm here!"

You feel Miguel's body tremble, and you feel his warm tears soak into your shoulder.

"I'm . . . I'm so sorry, (y/n) . . ." He whispers next to your ear, choking on his sobs.

You sigh, letting out tears of your own, "It's okay, baby, it's okay. We're okay. We'll get through this, Miguel."

He squeezes you tighter, not wanting to let go. You realize that it's all real and bring him closer, letting your tears fall.

You rub his back, "Come, lay down with me."

Miguel fills with relief, thankful that you're not showing any resentment or signs of kicking him out. His heart tenses, remembering all those times he's pushed you away. He climbs into bed with you, not letting you go. After moments of calming your tears down, you lie there in silence, not knowing what to say.

"I'm sorry that I've been pushing you away," Miguel murmurs against your neck.

Your heart feels pain, reminiscing all those times he's walked away from you. "Can I know why you have?"

Miguel took a deep breath. "I was . . . am too ashamed to face you."

This was a big surprise that took a big weight off of your whole body. The entire time, you thought Miguel blamed you for what had happened. For taking Gabriella as your daughter in the first place, even when he gave you the opportunity to say no. And the way that he would glare at you and avoid you so well, as though it didn't hurt him. That's what convinced you that you were to blame. But it wasn't true, it was the other way around. 

"Oh, Miguel . . ." You nuzzle your face into his hair, feeling tears sting your eyes.

"I just . . . I brought the whole thing on you. I promised you I would take care of everything. And I . . . I let you down, I'm so sorry." He whispers shakily, burying his face into your neck.

You sigh against his hair, "I thought it was the other way around. I thought you blamed me."

Miguel pulls away and looks at you as if you were crazy, "What?" He whispered.

You softly laugh, tearing up, "Yeah, I know. But the way you looked at me and talked to me differently, I thought you hated me."

Miguel anguished, "No . . . I would never hate you, (y/n)."

You let out a mixture of a laugh and a sob, hugging your face against his shoulder, "I'm glad . . ."

He slowly wraps his arm around your waist, still processing the new information. You thought it was your fault this whole time? Miguel thought as his guilt only grew. Miguel was only pushing you away because he knew it was his fault, and that he put you through it. He begins to wonder why he didn't realize how you truly felt this whole time. He should have just sat down and talked to you, coming straight. It was as if he was blinded by his own shame. All along, he thought you hated him, but it was himself who hated him.

"I love you. And I forgive you for everything. None of it was your fault. We didn't know, Miguel . . ." You whisper, holding him tighter.

His cold, broken heart started to heal from your words. It made him feel less remorseful, and more relieved that you forgive him despite everything he's caused. Especially that you still love him even after all of his mistakes. He really believes he doesn't deserve you.

"I love you so much," Miguel whispers against your neck. "Thank you . . ."

The two of you slept in each other's embrace for the rest of the night. It was a blissful sleep because of the burdens that you both lifted off of each other's shoulders. You knew it was going to be okay from here on out.

I want to punch him but marry him at the same time what do I do