Michael Gray- Mystery Man

chapter sixteen

"Hey... you okay?" Michael asked leaning his head against the wall. "Yeah, yeah, no I'm fine." He sighed trying to keep awake. "Miss you too." He chuckled. "Listen, I um... I'm gonna stay in Birmingham tonight, it's late and I think it's safer for me if I come in the morning... if that's okay with you?" Michael stuttered. "Okay that's good. Yeah, yeah." Michael smiled. "Love you too, see you tomorrow." Michael yawned as he put down the phone.

He let out a long, loud groan before leaving Tommy's office and making his way upstairs.

"Right decision." Tommy joked as he opened the door to his room, whiskey in his hand. "Night." He stated before entering his own room. Michael offered a smile before following Tommy's actions,
heading to bed himself.

"Ugh." He flopped down on his bed and hugged his pillow. "Fuck me." He complained whilst rubbing his face. "What am I supposed to say?" He asked himself looking up to the ceiling for some sort of sign.

ˑ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹▫◃ ۪۪۫۫ ༄ؘ ˑ

December 8th 1920

Michael woke up pretty early before sneaking off to his car. He left in a rush, desperate to see his wife again.

The journey was quite long but he finally made it home, inserting his keys into the keyhole and jiggling it around as it opened.

"Michael." Anastasia smiled before pouncing on him.

"Hey." He nuzzled his head into her hair, taking in her scent.

"How was Birmingham?" She asked before walking into their kitchen.

Trailing behind he uneasily spoke, "Yeah it was good." He lied.

"How's your mother?" Anastasia questioned, taking an apple from the fruit bowl as she sank her teeth into it.

Shit. Michael completely forgot. "Oh." He groaned.

"What?"

"She has this new boyfriend, seems like a dickhead to be honest." Michael sighed.

"Well you have to give him a chance." Anastasia stated, taking another bite from her apple.

"What for? He's an absolute waste of space." Michael argued. "Probably the newest collection to her boy toys."

"Michael!" Anastasia scolded. "That's what my parents thought of you."

"They're not wrong." Michael muttered.

"Come on, don't be like my parents, give him a chance." Anastasia begged.

Michael rolled his eyes. "Fine. Whatever."

"How was everything else? Did you speak to Tommy?" Here it was. The big question. What was he supposed to tell her?

"Yeah. Yeah. It was fine." Michael tried to change the subject. "What did you do?"

"I actually um visited my mother too." She explained.

"You did what?" She really did just change the subject.

"Michael she's grieving, she may not seem it but she is very sad. She needs me. I couldn't just leave her." She shrugged.

"She had no problem doing that to you." Michael crossed his arms in annoyance.

"I'm not my mother."

"Thank god for that."

"Careful." Anastasia warned, Michael raising his hands in defence.

ˑ༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹▫◃ ۪۪۫۫ ༄ؘ ˑ

The whole day was strange for Michael, he found it extremely hard to keep the truth from his lover but at the same time, somewhat easy as he didn't want to hurt her. He avoided conversations about his trip at all costs, slyly changing the subject. Of course Anastasia was oblivious to it all.

The couple were sat up in bed, Anastasia reading a book and Michael staring into space, thinking of the events that had freshly happened.

Glancing up from her book she noticed his worried look. "You alright?" She asked, concerned about Michael's behaviour.

He hummed in response, the eerie tension filling the room once more.
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"Don't think I haven't noticed you haven't told me what happened in Birmingham." She finally shared, Michael regaining his focus as he swallowed the lump in his throat. Reluctantly facing his wife, he notice the attentiveness written across her face. She's waiting. She's been waiting. All day.

"I know." He ultimately mumbled. "I'm sorry."

"Well?" She asked, closing her book.

What the fuck was he supposed to say? He can't let the last memory of her father be a bad one. What was he to do? He opened his mouth before closing it again, a few strange words leaving his mouth as he fumbled his sentences. He shouldn't do this. He can't do this. He won't do this. So... he lied,

"Your mother was right. It was Tommy."

Anna scoffed. "I knew it." She spat. "What did he say?"

"Not much." Michael explained, he didn't want to lie much further than he had to. "I just asked if it was true and he admitted to it."

"Well what did you do?"

Can she please stop making this worse? "I just, you know... told him about himself."

"What did you say?"

Michael internally groaned, the strain in his eyes prominent. He hated every second of this. "I don't really remember, I was raging. I swore a few times, lunged at him." He shrugged. "You should probably get some sleep though, it's been a long day."

"I need to see my mother again, apologise."

Michael began to panic. "No you don't! Doesn't take back what she did to you."

Anna mockingly cried, "it doesn't matter. Her husband is dead... because of us."

BUT THAT ISN'T WHY.

"Sleep on it, you may feel different in the morning." Michael resulted, secretly wanting to scream the truth in her face.