Your hands shook and shivered as you fumbled with your keys. Standing at the front door of your home, you could see your every breath. Tears froze to your cheeks as they spilled from your tired, (e/c) eyes. Winter had come with bitter brutality, and with everything going wrong lately, your heart felt colder too. At last, you unlocked the door and found warmth again. You were home. You could be with him now, but where was he?

You took off your coat and looked around. The TV was on, playing what sounded like Mickey Mouse cartoons, but other than that everything was quiet. The house seemed empty.

"Hello?" you said almost cautiously, although you were in your own home. There was no answer. "That's strange."

You wiped your tear-stained face with the back of your sleeve, took off your shoes, and walked into the living room. Just as you had suspected, Mickey Mouse was on one of his usual adventures. There was a bulky pile of blankets on the couch, and a half-empty bowl of popcorn sat on the end table underneath a lamp that had been left on. He had been here, but where was he now? Wherever he was, he was going to get it for leaving the house a mess.

You weren't really in the mood for TV, so you rummaged around in the mass of blankets, trying to find the remote, but it was nowhere to be found. With a defeated sigh, you thought, nothing is going right today. I can't even find the stupid remote. You plopped onto the couch and sunk into the mountain of comfort, only it wasn't quite comfortable. There was something hard underneath the blankets. You sifted through them, trying to find what it was. You could have sworn you saw what looked like blue jeans before someone screamed.

"BOO!"

The mass of blankets sprang upward and a pair of arms wrapped themselves around you. They would not let go. You screamed in fright and thrashed around until you felt yourself slipping off the couch, taking whoever was holding onto you along as well. As you fell, you heard a high pitched yell.

"Ahh!"

THUD. You both crashed to the floor. Whoever grabbed you had let go of you now. You quickly climbed out of the blankets and sat there, panting on the floor for a moment. The figure under the blankets started cracking up. You knew that laugh anywhere. All the fear you had felt suddenly vanished, and you started laughing too, shaking your head. I should have known, you thought.

Somewhere beneath the covers, someone asked excitedly, "Did I scare you?" He giggled. You breathed a heavy sigh and chuckled.

"Yes, Michael. The prank master has done it again. You were the most terrifying blanket monster I have ever encountered."

The blankets moved this way and that as Michael dug his way out. After some struggle, he popped his head out of the blankets, his long, black hair a total mess, and he smiled a smile that could light up the world. "Good! I'm glad," he exclaimed happily.

You smiled brightly and stared at him. No matter how often he scared you to death, you still adored him. Michael smiled back at you with sparkling, chocolate brown eyes, but his smile disappeared when he noticed the tears on your cheeks. He sat up, concerned.

"Hey," he whispered as he scooted closer to you. "What's the problem?" He brushed his hand gently across your face, wiping your tears away. "Did I scare you that bad?" he asked innocently. You couldn't help but giggle.

"No, Michael. I was crying before I got here."

Michael hastily got to his feet. He was wearing a red and black checkered flannel shirt, blue jeans, and two different colored socks: one purple and one bright green. Oh Michael, you thought, beaming up at him. He reached out his hand to help you up. After you were rescued from the sea of blankets, Michael began picking them up and placing them on the couch again. He sunk into the huge pile and patted the seat next to him. You gladly plopped down beside him, engulfed in the comfort of the blankets and the warmth of his body. Before you knew it, he had wrapped you both tightly in a cocoon of comforters, and you felt one of his hands slip around your waist while the other found yours and held it tightly. He looked down at you, his eyes wide and curious.

"Do you feel like talking about what happened?" he said gently.

After a moment, you muttered, "Yeah, sure, but I'm going to cry again."

He smiled and said, "That's okay. Sometimes you just need to let it all out."

He scooted even closer to you, which you loved, and you rested your head on his shoulder. You could feel his silky long black curls on your face, and the scent of his Black Orchid cologne was heavenly. After taking a deep breath of it in, you began to tell him everything.

"I just feel so unappreciated, so invisible. At school, at work, everywhere. Like if I disappeared, no one would notice. I don't have any real friends. They don't care about me. They don't even know me. I just feel like no one sees how much pain I'm in."

A few tears streamed down your cheeks. You knew that your mascara was running, but you didn't care. You never felt self-conscious around Michael. He wasn't the type of person to judge, and you knew he could relate to what you were going through. He had experienced the same struggles in his life, and he had always been there to support you through your own trials and tribulations. If there was anything Michael comprehended, it was pain.

Through sobs and sniffles, you cried, "I feel like no one understands me. I feel so alone."

Tears trickled down Michael's face now, sending his own black makeup streaming down his face. "I understand you," he said with a little smile. "And you are not alone, (f/n)," he added, pulling you in for a hug. He held you there for what felt like a blissful eternity, and you rubbed his back and melted into his chest. Michael gave the best hugs.

"Thank you," you whispered, smiling. "You're the only one I can talk to."

You released your grip on each other and pulled apart. You giggled when you saw his face. His eyeliner was running almost as badly as yours. You brought your hand up to his face and wiped his tears away. You laughed as you pulled it away; your fingers were covered in black makeup.

Michael gasped. "Oh my God," he giggled wildly. "We really need to get some waterproof eyeliner."

"We really do," you said, cracking up.

Michael was now frantically wiping his face with his shirt sleeve, basically spreading the black around. When he thought he had wiped it off, he asked, "Is that better?" You could only stifle a laugh. "I'm a mess, aren't I?" he asked, blushing.

"A hot mess," you said. Then you leaned forward and kissed him.

You wrapped your arms around him once more and ran your fingers through his hair as his lips danced on yours. He caressed your face, and then his hands moved to your neck, his tender touch sending shivers through your body. How long you stayed like this, you did not know, but it was wonderful. After you finally pulled apart, you grinned at each other, and the two of you sat there snuggling in the blankets for a while until Michael broke the silence.

"So . . . what do you want to do now?"

"Hmm . . . I don't know. We could watch a movie, I guess."

"Is that what you want to do?" Michael asked.

"Yeah, I guess so," you said with a smile.

"Which one?" Michael asked as he hopped off the couch and walked over to your vast collection of movies.

You didn't have a particular film in mind, so you shrugged and said, "You can pick one."

"No! You have to pick one," Michael said enthusiastically. "You're the one who needs cheering up!"

You chuckled. "Michael, just pick a movie. I will like whichever one you choose."

He looked over his shoulder and shot you a wink as he picked a movie off the top shelf. He turned around and held out "An American Werewolf in London," an 80's horror movie directed by John Landis.

"But Michael, that's a scary one," you whimpered. Horror movies were not your thing.

He smiled evilly. "I know it is."

He knew you weren't a fan of scary movies, but Michael loved watching them with you because, first of all, you always overreacted at scary parts, and he found that adorably hilarious. Second of all, you spent the majority of the movie holding onto him for dear life in fear of zombies, clowns, madmen with chainsaws, and the like. This time was no exception, and Michael laughed the whole time while you cowered, taking shelter underneath the blankets and burying your face into his shoulder. To say the least, it was fun. Snuggling with him made you feel like everything was okay.

By the time the film was over, it was almost midnight, and it was completely dark when Michael turned the television off. He led the way through the pitch black house to the bedroom you shared.

"Look how dark it is, (f/n). I wonder if there's a werewolf hiding somewhere in the shadows," Michael teased. You knew he had a mischievous grin on his face, even though you couldn't see him.

"Ha ha. Very funny. Now don't you go Thriller on me," you said playfully.

Michael giggled. "Don't worry, I won't. That would take hours of makeup for me to pull off, and I'm not in the mood for that."

The two of you tip toed through the house, feeling around to prevent yourselves from bumping into things along the way.

"We should turn on a light, Michael," you suggested.

"Pfft . . . who needs lights? This is fun!" he exclaimed. Just then, you heard a loud thud, and Michael tripped and almost fell on his face.

"Ow!" he winced. You could hear him trying to hold back his laughter.

"You walked into something, didn't you?" you asked, already knowing the answer.

After a long silence, he said, "Yes . . . as a matter of fact I did."

You laughed wildly. "Is wandering around in the dark enjoyable now?" you teased.

"Do you think I'm gonna let a stubbed toe ruin my fun?" he replied.

"No, probably not."

"That's right."

After sneaking your way through the house, ready to fight a werewolf if you had to, the two of you finally made it to your bedroom. You neared the doorway and Michael stopped abruptly, causing you to bump into his back. "Ouch!" you cried. "What are you -?"

"Shhh . . ." Michael hushed dramatically.

"What now?" you whispered, trying not to laugh.

"You stay here," he said intensely. "I must search the room for evil creatures. I need to make sure the room is safe before my princess enters." You rolled your eyes and sighed. Michael then proceeded to scout the room, looking behind curtains, checking every corner, and peeking under the bed. Then, he jumped on the mattress and quickly crawled under the covers. You watched him with glittering eyes. He was such a kid.

"Quick! Run! The coast is clear for now," he said frantically. You sprinted and jumped onto the bed next to him and sought refuge beneath your shield of blankets.

"Oh Michael, you're my hero," you said in a dreamy voice as you turned your head to look at him lying next to you.

He gazed back and smiled tiredly, "And I always will be, right?"

"You got that right, boy."

He gave you a good night kiss and put his arms around you from behind. When you thought he had fallen asleep, you rolled around to face him. The moonlight was shining through the windows, illuminating his stunning features. His makeup was still smudged on his face, and his hair was still a curly mess. You lay there admiring him - his long eyelashes, his prominent cheekbones, his square jaw, his arched eyebrows, his perfect lips, his cute nose, and, underneath his sleepy eyelids, the most gorgeous eyes you had ever seen. He was beautiful.

You smiled and brushed his curls out of his face with your fingertips. Then, you gently kissed his forehead and whispered, "I love you, Michael."

You lay back down, and was about to close your eyes when you heard Michael whisper, "I love you more." Your eyes shot open to see Michael open one of his and giggle mischievously. You felt your face flush with embarrassment.

"You know I don't fall asleep that fast..." Michael grinned sleepily.

"Michael . . . I . . ." you stuttered. You didn't know what to say.

"What are you embarrassed for? That was lovely," he reassured you. "Come over here," he said sweetly. He brought your face close to his and kissed you gently on the forehead.

"Good night, (f/n)," he said.

"Good night, Michael."

You both drifted off to sleep, and even your loveliest dreams could not compare to the night you had just spent with him. As long as you could come home to Michael every night, you knew everything would be okay.