"Foolish Dreamers" Michael Afton x Reader

𝓜𝓪𝔂𝓫𝓮 𝓦𝓮 𝓐𝓻𝓮𝓷'𝓽 𝓢𝓸 𝓓𝓲𝓯𝓯𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓷𝓽. . . (Ch.21)

Tuesday
November 27, 1984 5:03 P.M.

TW: Y/N fucked up (YA'LL AIN'T READYYY-)

The car's engine rumbled to a stop, and the quiet clicked in as Michael turned off the ignition. "We're here," he announced casually, his voice breaking through the stillness.

Y/N fumbled with her seatbelt, mumbling a soft, awkward, "Thanks." All she wanted was to escape—get inside Nana's house and leave this weird tension behind. But before she could make a break for it, Michael's voice stopped her in her tracks.

"You know... you never answered my question."

Her fingers froze on the seatbelt latch. She didn't have to ask which question. He was still circling back to that little exchange on the stairs, the one she hoped he'd let her forget.

With a sigh, she slumped back into the seat and muttered, "I didn't think I had to."

Michael leaned back, his gaze steady, waiting, and Y/N suddenly felt trapped in the confined space of the car. The air felt heavy, like it knew there was more to say—more than she was ready to admit. She shifted awkwardly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"We're just... sort of friends, you know?" she started, talking more to herself than to him. "You're, like... the school's player. Heather watches you like a hawk. And you used to like Joyce—even though she never felt the same way. It's just... You're complicated, Michael. And the more I get tangled up in your mess, the more it feels like..."

Her words trailed off, but her mind kept racing, thoughts tumbling over each other like a runaway train. The more it feels like I'll end up getting hurt... or find out something I don't want to know.

She glanced sideways at Michael, expecting to see his usual smug expression. But instead, his brow furrowed, and he stared at her with something that looked a lot like surprise. The playful edge in his gaze was gone, replaced with a flicker of something more vulnerable—like her words had landed harder than either of them expected.

Y/N swallowed, realizing too late how much she'd just said—and how messy it all sounded. "Never mind," she muttered under her breath, slumping further into the seat.

Michael was quiet for a moment, his fingers tapping idly against the steering wheel as if he was trying to figure out how to respond. For once, he wasn't grinning, wasn't playing it cool and that only made the silence worse.

"You, uh... didn't have to say all that," he finally murmured, his voice softer than usual, lacking its usual cocky undertone.

Y/N winced. "Yeah, no kidding."

She buried her face in her hands, groaning quietly. Of all the things she could've done, she'd gone and spilled her messy thoughts all over the place. And now here she was, sitting in Michael Afton's car, wishing she could rewind the last five minutes of her life.

Michael leaned forward, resting his arms on the steering wheel as he let out a long sigh. "Hey, don't feel guilty," he said softly, glancing over at Y/N with an expression that wasn't teasing for once. "I get it."

He paused, drumming his fingers lightly on the wheel. "I'm confusing you, aren't I? You've barely been here half a month, and from the second we met, I've turned everything into this... rollercoaster. I know it's a lot—like you're being thrown into the middle of things without knowing the full story."

He leaned back into his seat, exhaling through his nose as if the words themselves were heavy. His gaze flicked toward her, quieter now, more thoughtful. "And yeah... I know I'm complicated. But, honestly? So are you."