||Informality|| (Michael Mell x Reader) [Be More Chill]

||Chapter Two|| {Part Two}

As you grabbed the paper, Michael somehow regained all of his memories.

All of the feelings and thoughts from the previous Michaels. Into one Michael, a Michael that you weren't going to lose easily.

So... You didn't really have to start over.

You two parted from the hug.

He wiped his face, and put his hood down.

He seemed content just by seeing you in front of him.

"What's that..?" He asked, pointing at the paper in your hand.

You furrowed your eyebrows. "I don't know? It made you remember when I touched it."

"That's... weird." He matched your expression.

Michael's phone buzzed.

"Oh, it's.... Jeremy?" He seemed conflicted. "I thought he hated me."

"Wait, no, not in this timeline. We're friends." He seemed bothered by his mistake.

He paused for a moment.

"I can't... How am I supposed to act like nothing happened? So much happened." Michael sighed, and sat down with his back against the building.

You sat down next to him. "That's exactly what I've been thinking about."

Michael grinned softly. "Jeremy said he bought his own Switch... isn't that funny? He also said there was a weird girl that knew his name."

"Weird?" You punched his arm playfully, earning a laugh from him.

"Hey, I'm just the messenger." He smiled.

You two sat in silence as the cheery mood turned into quiet tension.

"I think I'm gonna show everyone. I'm sick of hiding it, you know?" He said.

"What're you talking about?" You asked, blinking.

"My vitiligo. Maybe it's not as bad as I thought?" He touched his cheek.

"Of course not. ...It's like I said earlier." You smiled and tried to stay calm.

Michael blushed lightly and smiled to himself.

"So... is it true? W-What you said, I mean." He asked nervously.

"What?" You cocked an eyebrow in confusion.

"You said.... Uh... Nevermind." He quickly dismissed the notion as his face grew red.

What is he talking about..?

Your mind tried to search for the answer, but you just gave up after a while.

You were sure that it would probably come up later.

You shrugged, and turned your attention back to the paper.

Michael watched as you flipped the paper and began reading it.

It...

It told a part of a story.

Not just any story, though.

It was yours.