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Warning! this chapter contains a scene of violence that may be triggering to some. while it doesn't go on for very long, i thought it best to add the warning. please read with caution.
The sun shined brightly through Michael's dark room, and Anastasia opened her eyes as the warm beams hit her face. She was alarmed for a small second, not used to waking up in any place but her bed, but relaxed when she felt Michael's arm wrapped around her stomach. She released a happy sigh, and turned on her side to see his face. His shirt was off, and she figured he had taken it off sometime in the night. He did that a lot usually, stripped down to almost nothing. He was always hot as a furnace, and she even got overly hot herself sleeping next to him sometimes.
She laid her hand on the muscles on his stomach, tracing patterns with her dainty finger as she watched him sleep. His new, neatly styled hair was now tousled with sleep, and she kissed his shoulder that was near her face. Quietly, she lifted his red sheet off herself, removing his arm and carefully tiptoeing out of the room. The hallway was extremely cold, and she half wished that she stayed in Michael's embrace. But when she hit the bottom of the stairs, the smell of french toast drifted into her nostrils and her stomach growled at the scent.
She rounded the corner to the kitchen, seeing Miriam in her usual black attire while she made stacks of french toast. She stood there awkwardly for a moment, debating running back to Michael's room. "Good morning." She cleared her throat, causing Miriam to turn around.
"Ah, Anastasia." She smiled, pointing to a chair. "Right on time, breakfast is ready."
Ana nodded, pushing back her wave of tangled curls as she sat down. "You really didn't have to make me anything, I could have gotten something at the diner."
"Nonsense." Miriam shook her head, placing the breakfast item on a plate. "Michael practically throws a tantrum if he doesn't have this every morning. I don't know why, the kid hardly eats anything besides that pie of yours."
Ana gave a laugh as she narrowed her eyes. Now that she thought about it, she couldn't remember ever seeing Michael eat anything besides peach pie from work. He'd normally have a glass of orange juice with it, but besides that, nothing. In fact, they're were a lot of things about him that were different, besides the fact he was harboring magical abilities. For instance, his constant burning temperature. Even his sharp, blue eyes seemed to hold mysteries, and it always seemed like he was reading into her soul every time he looked at her.
"Well, eat up." Miriam interrupted her thoughts, placing the plate down in front of her.
Ana gave a nervous chuckle as she picked up her fork, offering a nod in a thanking manner. She hummed in satisfaction at the taste, and she ate her breakfast quietly as the woman prepared Michael's plate. Clearing her throat, she wiped her mouth with a napkin and looked up to Ms. Mead. "Miriam? Could I ask you a question about Michael?" She asked.
