Ghost Of You (Michael Berzatto X Black!OC X Eventual Richie Jerimovich)

2. You Can Let It Go

2005-Chicago, Illinois

Angie had been staying with the Berzatto's for a few weeks now. She had fallen into a routine. Every morning, she would apply for jobs and go to interviews, and in the evening, she'd help with chores and making dinner. And still, no call backs. It seemed like Donna was praying that she wouldn't find a job so that she could stay longer.

"Can I pick the movie?" Carmy asked from the floor.

"No." His sister replied, sitting on the couch.

Angie brought the bowl of popcorn to the living room and sat next to Nat. Mikey was flipping through an endless stack of DVDs.

"What about Spider-Man?"

"Yes!" Carmy exclaimed.

Mikey slid it in the DVD player and came up next to her on the couch. His thigh softly rubbed against hers, his denim jeans pressing against her cotton sweatpants. She glanced up at him and met his eyes, which made her quickly look back to the screen.

An hour went by and he was still touching her. Every time they would both reach for popcorn, her heart threatened to leap out of her chest.

"I'm gonna get more popcorn."

"Want me to pause?" Mikey asked.

"No, it's fine." She grabbed the bowl and stood up, hurrying to the kitchen.

🤍

The glow of the moon crept through the curtain and into the guest room where Angie was staying. She had spent over an hour tossing and turning with no luck of sleep.

She pushed the covers off and headed towards the door and down the stairs. To her surprise, the kitchen light was already on.

"Oh. Hey."

"Hey." Mikey grinned. "Can't sleep?"

"No. You?" She sat on the counter across from him.

"Same. I should probably try. I gotta be at The Beef in a few hours."

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that."

He grabbed two glasses and filled them in the sink. "What about it?" He slid one over to her.

"When my dad kicked me out, he took most of my savings. Unless I'm gonna live here forever, I need a job."

"My mom would love that. But you're right. You need a job."

"Exactly. And I'm not the world's greatest chef or anything, but I can learn to make Italian beef. I've eaten enough of it."

"Ange-"

"Or I could wipe tables, or wash dishes. I'll clean the fucking toilet, I don't care. I just need a job, Mikey."

"As much as I would love to see you clean that toilet, I can't let you work there."

"What? Why not?"

"Ange, that place...it sucks the life outta you."

"Then why are you there?"

"'Cause I'm already fucked up."

"And I'm not?"

"No. You radiate fucking sunshine and glitter."

They both chuckled at his comment.

"Seriously, Mikey. I'm not a little kid anymore. I can handle myself."

"I know."

"Then let me work there."

He huffed and crossed his arms. "You're not gonna get paid a whole lot."

"Seriously?" She jumped off the counter and smiled.

"Yeah, the pay is shit."

"Oh my god, thank you, Mikey!" She wrapped her arms around his neck.

He held her waist and chucked. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

She pulled back and looked up at him. "And my dad said I couldn't get a job."

"He doesn't know what he's talking about."

"Yeah. Fuck him."

"What about your mom?"

Silence filled the room. Her smiles faded slightly as she sucked in harsh breath. "I never told you?"

"No. You don't have to."

"She died."

"I'm sorry, Ange."

"It's okay. It was a long time ago."

"Was she sick?"

"Uh, not physically." She looked at the ground, avoiding eye contact. "Suicide. She was really depressed and no one understood her."

"That must've been hard losing her so young."

"I guess. I was a toddler. I don't remember her."

He hugged her again, rubbing his hands up and down her back. "If you ever wanna talk about it, I'm here for you."

"I'm okay. Seriously. Thank you, though."

"Of course."

"I should head to bed." She pulled back. "I have work in the morning." She forced a grin. "Goodnight."

"Night."