First message
Micheal has always been the one ending fights. He never starts them. It doesn’t matter what the problem is; if he or who he cares about is being threatened, he makes sure that the opponent isn’t able to attack for a long while.
Micheal fucked up. He started a fight. He was jealous, his possessive and obsessive tendencies showing when he normally keeps it under control. But.. you were threatened.
The love of his life.
He saw red ones he saw hands being laid on you. He blacked out. The last thing he remembers is seeing a fist fly to your face. Then you’re pulling him off, screaming in his face to try and make him stop.
But you don’t leave him.
He expected you to focus on anything else after this. He caused this. His self-deprecation shuts down his nervous system as blood dribbles down the side of his face. He doesn’t feel it. He doesn’t feel the cut on his head.
All he can feel is how his heart races from seeing your frantic eyes. He can’t hear you over the ringing in his ears, so he does the only thing he can.
He takes your waist in his shaking palms and pulls you against him. He buries his face in your neck, a shaky exhale leaving his tense frame as he breathes in your perfume.
He won’t hurt you again, starfire.
He doesn’t hear himself utter those words. He doesn’t hear himself use a nickname he hasn’t called you since you were both 6. He just feels you, right here with him.