Pairing: Michael Langdon x Reader
Warnings: mention of main character’s death & pure sadness
A/N - Since I watched a very sad, sad edit of Michael: I had no choice but to write… I apologise in advanced.
Also, just some brief background history, Y/N & Michael were friends before the incident. Before Mallory’s time travel, Michael was suppose to seek out Y/N to console with her & find some support & LOVE (like he was meant to). Under these “new” circumstances, he was killed in the process.
Your entire world had changed. You felt your mind leave your body, and you could no longer feel.
A single tear fell from your eye, streaking past your cheek and onto your lap, as your breath hitched against your throat.
The pain in the pit of your stomach grew, and you hated every bit of it: it didn’t feel right, it felt that this moment just wasn’t meant to happen, yet it did. How could instinct defy reality?
“Michael,” you whispered.
Your eyes remained solely on his bloodied body laid agonisingly across the street, tearing your fixation onto the sight of the Rover colliding with his body. Him plummeting to the ground, clothes torn drenched in raw blood, as the car reversed once more, rolling atop of his defenceless body.
The final collision tore you beyond repair.
His legs broken, couldn’t even lift a finger, as his chest was heaving deeply: desperately begging for air.
She crouched down, lifting her grandson ever so gently: you couldn’t decipher the words being exchanged, your eyes were completely swelled with tears.
And that’s when you saw her leave.
Shoving Michael’s weak body back onto the hard, rough pavement. The heaving in his chest slowly lessening by the second.
Hopelessly awaiting for the sounds of a siren, lingering a little longer by the window, waiting for an emergency vehicle to close into view.
Hopelessly awaiting for the help, that you felt would never come.
You ran instantly out of your room, down the stairs, past your parents whom you couldn’t even spare a second to tell of what you’d just witnessed.
Barefoot, you ran down the wooden stairs of your porch, your pounding heart in rhythm to your light steps past your yard, onto the street.
You halted immediately in your tracks, as you’d remembered the Rover, the arrogance of the driver and their unforgiving, merciless act. Your head snapped to the left. Faintly in the reflection of the side mirror you saw a young, brunette woman in the car, a few years older than yourself, before she recklessly continued to drive off, disappearing as she turned the street, out of sight and out of mind.
Instinctively, you tore your attention away from the empty roads ahead and back unto Michael.
Walking over to him, you saw his head slightly turn, wincing in pain as he did.
His broken voice instantly triggered the streams of tears to drench past your cheeks.
In the distance, you could hear your mother’s sad cry, your father’s gasp and the silence of your younger siblings.
“Somebody call for the ambulance! Call for emergency!” You yelled back, as you gently tried to pull Michael into your lap.
“Call!” You demanded as the frustration practically oozed from the hoarse tone in your voice.
Michael couldn’t die, not like this, not in your lap, against the dirt of the empty road.
“N-No,” He stuttered, his hand with all his might reaching up to turn your attention away from your parents to him.
“It-It’s too late… L-Let me go.”
“I can’t,” You cried, practically now sobbing, as one hand supported Michael whilst the other tried to put pressure against his open, gushing wounds.
“L-Live f-for me” He breathlessly heaved, his bloody fingers stroking your face, leaving a trail of his innocent blood across your wet cheek.
His final breath expelled on you.
His body lump and lifeless, as you tried desperately to shake him awake.
Those mesmerising, comforting blue eyes, the same ones you’d first seen when you’d first met.
He’d come over with Constance, welcoming your family and yourself to the neighbourhood. It was there you felt a sense of reassurance, that had instantly ignited something within you, looking into those mesmerising blue eyes.
No one could have ever made you feel the same way, like Michael did: it was indescribable, and yet now it pained you to know the feeling was gone now.
It was that evening that Michael Langdon died.
Killed from the villainous acts committed by a complete stranger, an unspeakable woman.
It was there that Michael was left to die: his grandmother harshly shoving his helpless body back unto the pavement as she returned to home, to her usual way of things.
It was there that Michael had died: in your arms under your agonising cries, begging for someone to listen to your screams of help.
It was there that Michael Langdon died: knowing that he loved you, as you had loved him.
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