His stomach grumbled, reminding him he’d eaten nothing today too.
Which hadn’t been unusual when he was younger and living like a starving artist, but definitely wasn’t the way he lived now.
The pressing needs of his body were enough to bring him out of the fog he’d been lost in.
He went to the bathroom and then the kitchen, grabbing a banana. Ate it. Tossed the peel and opened his fridge.
Incoherent rage, mind-numbing guilt, and the acute sense of helplessness seeped back in as he stared blankly at the offerings of his fridge. His stomach flipped and the sensation of being hungry receded under the emotional onslaught.
Michael went back to the couch and sat down, leaning back to stare up at the ceiling.
What now?
******
Pounding on his door made him jerk upright from where he’d fallen asleep on the couch. Again. He squinted at the clock on his DVD player, eyes blurry and unfocused.
The digital readout read 8:47.
He only knew it was in the evening because it was dark out. Unless those were rainclouds?
No, it was dark out.
The pounding on his door continued.
“Open up, pretty boy, or we’re breaking in!” Angel’s voice was stridently demanding. “I need to pee and my obstetrician says it’s not good for my blood pressure to get too high and I can feel it rising right now!”
Michael’s protective instincts kicked in.
His pregnant friend was outside and needed help.
That was something his brain could handle. It was something he could take care of.
His muscles protested as he jumped up from the couch, a twinge in his neck nearly making him groan in pain.
He’d fallen asleep on the couch a couple of times. It had been easier than getting up and going back to his room, to his bed. Although, he’d tried, last night. Being in bed had just made him think of Ellie, though, and he’d ended up back out on the couch after an hour of tossing and turning while his stomach roiled.
When he opened his front door, he nearly slammed it shut again, but Patrick’s big hand smacked against the wood.
Angel smirked.
“Pest,” he said, with a sigh as he took in the sight of Angel and her reinforcements, his lips curving upwards at the end, and for just a moment he nearly felt normal again.
Then he remembered and it was like being kicked in the gut. Angel frowned at him, her eyes filled with worry. She was bundled up in a puffy coat and jeans, with Adam close behind her, probably ready with an extra scarf and gloves in case she got cold. Beside Adam, Lexie was practically bouncing, trying to see over Angel’s shoulders - since seeing over Patrick’s would be impossible. All of them had nearly identical expressions of worry on their faces, although Patrick and Adam’s frowns were deepening by the second as they looked at him.
“What the hell was that look for? Also, you look awful.” She leaned forward and sniffed. “You don’t smell great either. What the hell is going on?”
Patrick didn’t wait for Michael to answer before adding his own complaint on top of Angel’s. “You haven’t answered a single text message or email since Sunday, on top of not answering your phone.”
Yeah… he’d tried to look at his emails but he hadn’t been able to concentrate and he’d ended up just staring at the computer screen.Although he had taken the time to look up Lawrence. He was pretty sure he remembered his parents’ saying the guy had been in some sort of horrific accident way back when. Sure enough, Lawrence was a quadriplegic. Which had immediately killed any fantasies Michael had been harboring about hunting the guy down and kicking his ass. There was no satisfaction in beating up a guy who literally couldn’t fight back. What had happened to him really was pretty awful, so it looked like karma might really exist. Still, it have him a sense of frustrated helplessness, a lack of justice… and if he was feeling that way, how had Ellie felt?
As for his phone, he hadn’t plugged it into the charger when he’d gotten home on Sunday. He’d heard it go off in his bedroom a few times before it had eventually died, but since it hadn’t been the ringtone and notification tones he’d assigned to Ellie – although he hadn’t really expected her to contact him - he hadn’t cared.
Michael ran his hand over his face and nearly winced at the stiff bristles covering his jaw. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had seen him with anything more than a five o’clock shadow. He hated the way he looked with facial hair. The concern in the others’ eyes was only growing and he didn’t know what to say.
A stiff finger jabbing painfully into the flesh of his stomach had him jumping back with a yelp.
“I’m going to the bathroom and then we’re talking!” Angel declared as she marched past him into the apartment.
