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highhhfiveee · 1 year ago

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to surrender (mike schmidt x reader)

part 2 of "to crumble". part 1: 🩹

pairing: mike schmidt x blackfem!reader summary: the ups and downs of y/n and mike, and where they lead them. wc: 8.2k tags: MAJOR, MAJOR ANGST, infidelity, non-graphic depictions of sex, non-graphic ending life ideation, some fluff?, lots of pain. a/n: this hurt to write, so i'm sorry to all you readers 💔 also, has been proofread but if there are still errors, i'm sawryyyy. also also this is long.

mike can't wait to get home to you.

it's been such a long night, another shift of listless sitting and waiting for something to happen. nothing ever does, and while mike's getting paid to essentially do nothing, he wishes there was some kind of thrill, some kind of excitement. he couldn't believe he'd gone down the career path of protecting forty year old animatronics, and the thought of those creepy things hurried him out of there faster once the clock struck 6 am.

as soon as he heard his alarm, he was packing up his things and locking up the pizzeria, refusing to look back as he marched to his car. he didn't peek at the building at all, pulling away with his focus centered on you. he thought about you on the couch, having dozed off to infomercials after putting abby down for the night, and how around 2 am, you would jolt awake, dragging your body into the bedroom to complete your slumber.

it was saturday morning, and he'd walk into a fairly quiet house. he'd drop his stuff off at the front before traversing to the room, sheepishly smiling at your snoring figure. you were so beautiful, a dream that he never wanted to wake up from. he'd take off his clothes and finally replace the cold, empty space that's consistently behind you, hoping to not wake you as he wraps you into his arms and dozes himself, exactly where he wants to be.

that's sort of how it pans out for him. he drives home in silence, not even taking a second to decompress before he's strolling his way inside. you're on the couch, up and watching a documentary on retirement communities. your eyes flick to him when he enters, and you sit up, yawning and stretching and giving him a languid smile. "morning, baby."

he takes off his security vest and bag, hanging them on their respective hooks, before dropping to the couch beside you. you nestle into him, rubbing your cheek against the soft material of his t-shirt. "morning. missed you alot."

"missed you more," you coo, reaching up to grab his cheek and tilt his face down towards yours, placing a peck on his soft lips. "so glad it's the weekend. get to spend so much time with you."

your kisses intensify, your hand slipping to the back of mike's neck so you're able to go deeper, and he clutches your hips, flipping the two of you over so you're under him, all loose limbs and roaming touches. your fingers feel so good on his skin, and it’s like he's being baptized in a way, completely anew by your heavenly touch. this is all he ever wanted; to be. to be with you, happy.

you pull away from him, capturing his bottom lip between your teeth. the action makes him moan, and once you let go, you're flipping onto your stomach, throwing your tired, lustful eyes at him. "haven't felt you in a while."

it has been a while. the two of you have been working so much, seen so little of each other that he's sure you haven't had sex in a year. the way you rock against him, swaying your hips from side to side on his pelvis makes him concede. "please? before abby wakes up."

you don't have to tell him twice. he's unbuttoning his pants and spitting on himself and entering you, both of you softly moaning out at the feeling. he hasn't felt you in so long, and the sensation of your lush, warm walls around him has him seeing static. you're stretching your arms over the back of the couch, arching against it so he's able to get deeper.

he's so content, so intoxicated with the way he's having you....even just...intoxicated in general.

something's off.

the pleasure he's getting from you begins to evaporate, and suddenly, nothing feels right. it feels null between his legs, and it's like you're fading from him. you're there, under with your spine poking against your skin and your messy bun thrashing against the crown of your skull, but...something isn’t right.

mike closes his eyes. he's sure it's just some sort of deja vu, a feeling of disbelief that he's able to have you like this again after so long. he loves you so much, loves that he can be home with you on a saturday morning, only—

mike's not home, and it's not saturday morning.

“c’mon, i gotta go to work soon.”

the nasally lilt of voice and blue eyes that stare back at mike are all wrong, incorrect from how he knows you. this isn’t you.

it’s not you at all, and the pieces start to come together.

it’s friday night, and he’s not at work like he should be. he’s in a warmly lit hotel room, AC window unit churning in the corner, draped by the ugliest taupe curtains he’s ever seen. he feels so disoriented, tasting the malt liquor on his tongue and gazing at his surroundings with bleary eyes while he instinctively moves his hips forward, trying to catch his rhythm again.

he’s having sex with some girl he met on a hookup website. he's missing work for this, using it as interference for the depression he’s been feeling everyday. it occupies the cavity of his chest with the weight of a million boulders, and even though he's got whiskey dick and he's aware of the infidelity he's committing, he decides that it's better than feeling how he always does. this is better than feeling empty.

his mind is fuzzy, and he's able to stop thinking about his transgression, holding onto the girl's hips and rocking faster, closing his eyes again.

he lets the feeling take him away, the emptiness of his head chorused by skin smacking and soft whimpers. she's not you, but it didn't matter. he didn't have you anyway. you two had stopped being each other's so long ago, though unofficial. you’d felt like a “girlfriend” all this time, holding a title that no longer fit properly.

mike pretends to come, and he's sure his tryst does too, spasming and moaning in this manufactured way that makes him furrow his eyebrows in distaste. he pulls out and heads to the bathroom without a word, tossing the condom in the trash and eyeing his image as he cleans himself off.

his eyes were bloodshot, red spiderwebs dancing trapezing along white. he didn't even remember drinking, or organizing this meeting, or how he even decided this was a good idea. he didn't recognize himself looking into the mirror.

the person staring back at him was the one that ruined everything, and they followed him every time he moved. it solidified the fact that he couldn't escape the liability of what he’d done no matter how hard he tried to absolve it. he was marked with all of his wrongdoings and mistakes, and there was no overcoming that.

the motel room isn't his, and even after splashing water on his face, hoping and praying that he would wake up from whatever this was, and getting dressed, he's still too drunk to drive. beyond that, where would he go?

the only two places he had in this stupid town were freddy's and his house, and both were undesirable to him. he wasn't happy anywhere.

he sits in his car parked outside of the room when everything is said and done. he feels gross. deep down, he can't make sense of what he's done. had the last year soiled his mind that much, leaving him so willing to feel something other than misery that he'd cheat on you?

once upon a time, you were the love of his life. he wants to believe that you still are, that you're just going through a rough patch and that soon, it will feel like the honeymoon phase again. he thought it would stay blissful like that forever, and maybe that was naive of him, but he'd never been so caught up in someone before. he'd wanted to start a family with you, smiling at the thoughts of little ones running around the halls and saddling your ring finger with a weighty cluster of diamonds.

he knew that none of that would ever happen now, even if the stress of life dissipated and you two felt at peace enough to begin planning for it. there was no coming back from cheating, especially not since it had happened to you before. he'd promised you he would never hurt you like that, and here he was. a year later and he'd done it in conjunction with so much worse.

he drops his head in his hands, body convulsing with sobs of agony until the sun comes up. he doesn't sleep. he hasn't slept in almost 24 hours. his skin is dry and raw as he numbly throws his car into drive, somehow getting himself all the way to his side of town. he can't recall the trip, checking back in once he's turning the car off outside of the house.

he doesn't know how he's supposed to walk inside.

he almost doesn't, about to go drive his car off a cliff, but you poke your head out of the opened front door, staring at his stiff frame in his driver's seat. you'd been watching him from the living room window since he'd gotten home.

you'd thought he was just decompressing or something, and these days you just left him alone to do whatever he wanted, but after an hour and a half of watching him fail to blink or move, you get concerned.

he shifts his eyes to you, the first motion you've seen him do, and begins to exit the car, a dead man walking as he sulks to the door. you make space for him to enter, closing the door after him and pressing your back to it cautiously. "rough shift?"

you two rarely talked about anything other than finances or practicalities these days. you'd stopped asking how he was, always wondering but keeping quiet, and he'd done the same. the overarching, desolate dynamic of the entire household spoke for itself. there was no discussion needed to notice it.

still, mike gives you a curt "mhm", throwing his vest and hoodie on their proper hooks and leaving for the bedroom. the door closes with moderate slam, rattling the picture frames on the wall. one of them falls off, connecting to the ground with a loud shatter. you swear and move over to the mess, blinking away tears. you didn't think you'd ever be used to his apathy towards you, and though it was reciprocated, it was only for your own protection.

you loved mike with your entire being, even now. you wanted the mike you’d known back, but you recognized that he was still inside his being somewhere, pounding at the walls to escape. you were never one to be cold, or standoffish, but your heart wouldn't be able to take that from mike while you tried to give him your all, not again.

you kneel next to all the glass, picking up the damaged frame. inside is a picture of you, mike, and abby at a pumkin patch from last year. mike is kissing your cheek, scrunched up with joy, and abby is holding a pumpkin bigger than her head.

you all look so happy.

you can't stop the tears from pouring, drowning yourself in a pool of longing and regret.

mike doesn't exit the bedroom until later that night. you'd cleaned up the glass and a few other things, using the remainder of your day to spend time with abby. mike had stopped interacting with her altogether, and you could tell how much it hurt her. you always tried to change the subject when she asked you about him, or when her lash line pebbled with tears at the thought of him.

today, she'd broken your heart on the drive back from the children's museum.

"i hate mike." you’d craned your head to her quickly, scowling deeply before settling your eyes back on the road. "i mean it."

"i know he's done some bad things, abs, but he's still your brother. he's one of your guardians, and adult life is--"

"you don't have to defend him, y/n." it was as sharp as if mike had said it, and it shut you up quickly. your defense came from the love and your connection, but you knew that you didn’t have to give him credit. his behavior in the last year hadn't been acceptable, everyone knew. he'd hurt you and abby so badly, so many times over. you two felt like you were on an island alone in the same house as him. "he's a dickhead."

"hey, language," you reprimanded, but she's right. "he is, though. i'll say it for the both of us. mike's a dickhead."

"he's just so miserable. the only reason they're not taking me away is because of you," abby admitted, and you knew it was true. with mike's lack of supervision and care, you'd had to slip into playing the role of caregiver for both yourself and abby. he bought food, other household stuff, anything abby needed, but it was up to you to make sure they were used, that abby was okay head to toe, 24/7, and that every bill was paid. you were doing something every hour of every day; grading or cleaning or cooking or helping with homework or washing clothes; you'd wanted to be a part of a collective unit. a real, supportive family. "housewife" hadn't been on your list of wanted titles. "i wish things were different."

"me too, abs," you muttered, biting indents into your bottom lip, over and over and over. you didn't want to cry in front of her. you’d needed to be strong, and if you'd survived the first fifteen minutes of the ride without breaking down, you could make it through the last fifteen.

you and abby eat dinner in her room, reheated lasagna that neither of you fully enjoy anymore. it had been your favorite meal at one point, but now it left an unsavory taste in your mouth, peppered with sour memories. you two talk about all the things she'd learned at the museum, about how her body functioned as she grew and what it meant to be an ever-evolving human.

the conversation continues as you help her through her night routine. it finishes on, "it's not easy being human" as you tuck her into bed. she nods, flipping on to her side so that her tears fall onto her pillow. "aw, abby."

you wipe away the wetness, giving her a kiss on the forehead and stroking at her damp hair. "don't understand why mike hates us."

you don't know what to say at first because you've felt the same way. it was like something had switched in him one day, rearranging his chemical makeup and transforming him into someone neither of you knew. "hey," you whisper, readjusting yourself so you're reclined against her headboard, sweeping her up into your arms. she rests her head on your chest, sniffling as she tries to stop her hiccupping breaths. "i think he's just lost right now. not to excuse his behavior, but...he doesn't know who he is. he's not mike, okay? and the mike that you feel like hates you isn't your brother. he loves you, deep deep down and i love you, abby. i love you so much."

"i love you more, y/n," she gasps. you curl her into you further, cradling her so she'll settle. you want to shed your own tears once again. you can only imagine how hard all of this is for her. losing her whole family before she'd even started puberty. how were you supposed to figure out your own life, all the ups and downs, twists and turns of being sentient, when you were needed to guide abby into her formative years? how was this any way to start them?

you hold her for hours, staring blanky at the walls above her desk. they're fairly bare now, every picture she'd had with mike in it gone. you'd replaced him, outlined in gold radiance and holding abby's hand. it's bittersweet.

you're still mulling over the drawings when you hear the bedroom door open and close, footsteps retreating to the bathroom. what mike had been doing in there all day, you don’t know, and you try your hardest not to care. this is how your weekends had gone for a while.

you gently ease abby into her bed, smoothing her hair and murmuring sentimentalities into her ear before heading to your room.

there's not much excitement in your own night routine; mike usually sleeps on the couch on weekend nights, so you all you do is change your clothes and brush your teeth in the kitchen, moving around like a phantom. you don't make a sound, forgoing your past habits of humming or singing as you twirled about.

you lay in bed with the lamp light illuminating the pages of your book, leering your eyes over the text. reading was your form of escapism, using the fictional worlds printed on paper to leave the earthly realm you felt trapped in. you didn't have to be y/n when you read; you got to be free.

it's close to 1 am when mike opens the door and your eyes lock onto his. it's instinct. you're still connected, in more ways than just a waning relationship, and sometimes you two will catch each other's stares like nothing negative has ever transpired between you two. your heart always pounds when it happens, and you wonder if you're alone in that.

"sorry for barging in, i just...uh, need some more clothes." you nod at his statement, but you're not sure that it's entirely true. he's dressed for night already, in his loose t-shirt and deep blue plaid pants. "really?"

"just a change of pants...might get hot while i'm out there sleeping in the living room," he bites, and you don't miss a beat with your snappy reply. "nobody's making you sleep out there, mike, and it's fucking november. i'm sure it won't get hot."

he leans against the dresser, deflated. it was a stupid excuse to use, a shitty way for him to try to snark at you, but he's so frustrated with himself, with everything he's caused. he doesn't understand what's wrong with him, and how he could ruin one of the only good things he's ever known.

he'd taken an ambien earlier, fingering one out of the "legit prescription" bottle his dealer had given him, and sobbed into his pillow until he passed the fuck out. what looked to you like his usual appearance of fatigue was actually fatigue and guilt and rage and all these other feelings that had boiled to the surface since he'd been unfaithful. he just wanted to be near you again, to have you in the way he did all that time ago.

how had he been so mindless, brain-dead enough to go through with dropping the responsibilities into your sole hands, virtually ignoring you for a year straight, and now, cheating on you? how had he let it get to this?

"i know. i'm sorry. i just don't deserve you, y/n." you slip your bookmark into the fold of your book, setting it down on the nightstand and sitting up straight against the bedroom wall. mike is still facing away from you, slouched yet frigid. there's so much tension radiating from his direction, and you find yourself subconsciously empathizing with him. you feel the same tension in your limbs every day, wishing life would give you one moment to take a deep, relieving breath. you want the stress to go away, for the both of you to be able to exhale all the sullen air of the past that resides in you, and replace it with the hope for a brighter future.

mike stands to his full height, backing into the bed to plop down on the edge, staring dead ahead at his image in the dresser mirror. you get on all fours, thoughtlessly crawling over to him and wrapping one of your arms around his shoulders, skimming your other hand over his arm. it's what you would've done on any other day, and for some reason, you no longer feel like you're in the present with him. this is happening before everything, when the thought of him filled you with nothing but giddiness. "like how can you even...do this with me?"

"i love you, mike," you whisper swiftly, tilting your head away from him so you can gaze into his eyes. he fucking hates himself, hates the way his jaw trembles as you fall into him again. he doesn't deserve this. he isn't entitled to your grace, and he wants to yell at you to take it back; save it. keep it for yourself, or abby. "i love you, and i miss you, and i just want things to go back to the way they were. i miss being in love."

it's all it takes for him to grab at the back of your neck, smashing his lips onto yours like no time has passed since the last time you'd done it, even if it'd been a year.

how had he gone a year without this, too? the feeling of your mouth on his shuts his brain off, and it isn't long before you're under him, arms wrapped tightly around his neck as he gives you slow, sweet, soft thrusts; thrusts you haven't felt in so long. you're all faint, yet honeyed whimpers and scratching at his back, and mike pushes away the shame that courses through him. this is what he wanted. his hookup was nothing close, a physical dupe of you that couldn't compare to the feeling of the real thing. he's in love with you, and he's crying into your neck, moaning out, "i love you baby, i'd do anything for you. i'm so sorry for ruining our lives, please forgive me, gonna make it better" between gasps. you nod your head, giving mike the most merciful eyes and it only makes him more emotional, coming into you with a muffled, shattered sob.

you both settle into cuddling after you've used the bathroom, and mike keeps his sanity in check by telling himself that this is what he wants, and that he'll do anything to keep it. he'll never make another mistake again. from this day on, he'll do better. no more ambien. no more ignoring abby. no more putting all the responsibility on you. he has to save himself and he wants to show you that he'll change, that the person you fell in love with is still there. he even agrees to couples therapy when you bring it up. it's without hesitation, a quick, "anything you want baby", and he begins thinking of all the ways he can make extra money to pay for it.

"we're gonna be okay. i'm going to turn this around," he promises, kissing at the top of your head before turning off the bedside lamp. you two sleep tangled in each other's limbs, and it's the best sleep either of you have gotten all year.

you're impressed by the way things actually turn around. mike takes up a second job and makes you quit yours, opting for something close to the house for a small 9 am - 1 pm shift after freddy's. it works out perfectly for everyone; he gets to eat breakfast with the two of you every morning; you take abby to school, and get to work knowing that you don't have to work again after you're dismissed of children; mike picks abby up, on time, and brings her home, making her lunch and letting her decompress while he takes a nap; you come home and decompress yourself, afterwards helping abby with her homework as mike gets his winks in until 7:30 or so. you two trade off making dinner during the week, and by 8:30 at the latest, you're all sitting at the table enjoying a meal together. mike leaves for work, catching up on sleep there too. you help abby settle down for the night, and then you're grading until you're calling it quits. it feels like the earth has healed.

it takes abby a bit of work to come around to mike again, and by the fourth weekend of positive change, he's worked his way back into her good graces. it moves you, the genuine effort he's put in to right his wrongs and show the two of you that he was endlessly remorseful. the two of you had even been having sex again; quickies during the week, but passionate, heated, breathless hour-long sessions during the early mornings or late nights of the weekend, panting into each other's mouths and clinging to skin like saran wrap. it's a year's worth of tension unfolding every time you two are in bed.

you're going out on dates. you're taking abby places. you're making memories again. the lunch texts happen again. you're going to couples therapy, really working on everything. everything is perfect...until it isn't, once again.

all it takes is a month and a half.

you're waltzing around the living room, tidying up a bit around the place before the three of you convene on the couch for a movie night. it's something you'd recommended at the start of all the improvements, and it'd become a highlight of the weekends. every saturday night, rotating choice of movie, max pg-13. abby sits on the couch as you organize the random knickknacks that lay about, clicking through the streaming app's home screen while she waits for mike to give her a movie title.

he calls out a name, something generic and easily marketable, and abby rolls her eyes, searching for it anyway. "sounds like a boring kid movie."

"you are a kid, silly," you say through a laugh, arranging two bowls of snacks on the table and plopping down beside her. she scoots into you, and you throw your arm around her shoulder, resting your temple on the top of her head.

"mikeeeeeeeeee," you trill, looking towards the shadowed hallway. "get your ass in here! why are you even brushing your teeth right now anyway? we're about to devour popcorn and doritos, and abby's gonna get to drink sodaaaaaaaa, but only because tomorrow is sunday. it'll all taste so gross with the mint flavor," you and abby giggle at your words, caught in a laughing fit when mike's glowing phone catches your eye.

it's on the coffee table, thrown there without a care, and you reach forward to check out what notification he got. you two don't go through each other's phones, but there's no rule about using them. you scroll through his social media apps sometimes, and vice versa. you two are open, trusting, secure...right?

the notification is an email from something called Hookup-Haven, the body of the message starting with "you were kind of too drunk to make me come last time...". the subject says new message from: slutzora_xx.

you think it's just a spam email, one of those "hot, horny singles in your area!" type of things, and it's a bit puzzling to you that they're coming to mike's primary inbox instead of his junk folder, but you will yourself to push it away. this was an invasion of his privacy and you didn't do this. you didn't condone this.

the will doesn't work.

you would've believed it to be spam if clicking the one email didn't expose you to a thread of communication from about a month and a half ago. there are only a couple of emails, six of them from back then. mike initiated them.

mikelovesnaturesounds | 8:23

just looking to fuck, nothing else.

slutzora_xx | 8:25

well, you're in the right place, searching on a hookup site lol. were you looking for something tonight?

mikelovesnaturesounds | 8:29

if you could, sure. i can skip work. been really depressed about my life and my relationship and i don't want to think about any of it rn.

slutzora_xx | 8:31

aw mike <33333 i'm really sorry. i'll still fuck you, irdgaf but i have to ask...how would your girlfriend feel about this?

mikelovesnaturesounds | 8:32

what she doesn't know won't kill her. we don't even talk.

slutzora_xx | 8:34

doesn't sound like much of a girlfriend to me </3 but, it's an answer nonetheless (: meet me at the oakmont at 10:00, mkay? room 106. see you then *kissies*

your eyes blear as you read the one he just received.

slutzora_xx | 8:17

you were kind of too drunk to make me come last time but you're still pretty cute. wanna try again sometime, sober? ;D i'm back in town for another week so lmk! same place, room 213.

you can't breathe. it feels like your chest has been vacuum sealed, all of the air within you sucked out with every word you read of this exchange. you swipe up to find his calendar app, comparing the date of the emails to that time period in your life.

month and a half ago, friday. mike had exited without a word as you entered, with his usual dead eyes and apathetic physicality. you'd watched him leave, backing out of the driveway without a single glance at you. it'd stung worse than lots of things you'd felt recently, and in that moment, you didn't know why. it all made sense now.

he'd had sex with you the next night. you'd forgiven him, trusting his sorrowful whimpers and desperate movements, believing that everything would actually be okay again.

you don't realize that you're still wheezing and trembling until abby waves her hand in front of your face, eyes filled with worry. "are you okay, y/n?" you set mike's phone down, screen on and infidelity exposed, as you try to give abby your strongest smile. how could you when even you were terrified by the harsh tremors of your hands?

you stand to your feet, ushering her down the hall to her bedroom door. "just go in your room, okay? put on your headphones and do some karaoke. sing as loud as you want. i just need to talk to mike really quick, i'll come get you when we're done."

abby turns to her door, cracking it open with one more look back towards you. her eyes are melancholic, as if she knows exactly what's going on.

"you and mike aren't going to just talk, are you?"

you nudge her into her room with a simple, "sing as loud as you want, abby", your voice toned with mature finality. "don't come out until i come get you." abby knows not to argue.

you return to the couch, staring at mike's bright phone screen. you'd been cheated on so many times, and though you hadn't wanted heartache to harden you, it still hit you over the head like a sack of bricks. it never got easier, finding out that you couldn't trust someone that you loved deeply, but you just kept your head held high. you knew you would find something eventually, something right. someone good, someone who would keep you and your heart safe, never hurt you.

you thought that person was mike. you'd felt 100% positive that he was right for you.

how had you ended up being wrong?

you hadn't cried yet, sitting with your back straight and interlocked fingers crushed between your knees. your gaze is locked on his phone still, a leg bouncing as you will yourself not to explode with the betrayal.

mike finally comes out of the bathroom, throwing a lovedrunk, sheepish smile your way as he walks into the illuminated living room. the smile falls when he catches your expression and tracks your eyes to his phone. his heart sinks to his ass as he takes in the Hookup-Haven logo, tiny and almost illegible, but there, nonetheless, on his phone. fuck.

"baby--"

"don't!" your voice is sharp, sharper than it's been in recent times. he was used to this tone back then, but for the last month or so, you'd been so sweet, so much like yourself when you'd first started dating. "don't call me baby. i'm going to ask you this once, and i swear to fucking god, mike, if you lie to me, i'm leaving right now." mike swallows hard, standing motionless in front of you.

"did you cheat on me?" your voice crack strikes mike all over; his brain, heart, and stomach all lurch with remorse and his hands fly up in surrender, eyes closed so he can't see your face. "baby, listen---"

"stop...calling...me that!" you scream, shooting to your feet and stepping into his space. he keeps his eyes closed, squeezing them so hard it starts to give him a headache. he can't see you. he'll die if he sees you. "yes or no, mike?"

"yes, y/n! i cheated on you, okay? i was fucked up---"

"not when you coordinated your meetup," he opens his eyes and is met with your tearful ones, red and overflowing with devastation. you're breathing so hard, placing a hand on your chest to try and soothe yourself before you have an anxiety attack. what has he done?

"you left the house twenty minutes after you finalized your plans. you made them sober." your voice breaks again, and mike tries to reach out for you, bring you to him so he can make it all better, but you dodge him, diverting your way to the kitchen. you have your arms crossed over your chest, rubbing your hands over your biceps.

"you fucked me the next day! you knew what you'd done and still had sex with me," you're not facing him, staring into the darkness just outside the kitchen window. it's the only thing keeping you calm. "how fucking could you?"

mike is at a loss for words, stammering to find something to say. he’s so angry at himself, internally pummeling himself into the ground.

what’s there for him to say? there’s no fixing what he’s done. he'd put in so much effort to fix things with you and abby, working his ass off to make sure that he didn't fail you two again. he'd done everything he could, and it'd had all crumbled into dust by one mistake, one mistake he'd known was irredeemable.

"y/n, listen to me, okay?" he doesn't deserve your ears, but you lend them to him anyway, still shunning him from seeing your face.

"nothing is going to fix what i did. nothing is going to change it, but please know that i love you with my entire being. i have since the day i met you, and...i was in such a bad place. i had been... for the entire past year. i felt nothing but pain...nothing but this mix of a void and lead inside my chest. i didn't want to wake up. i didn't want to do anything. i just wanted to feel what we had, or at least something close. i needed to feel something other than that pain, y/n. that's all i felt when i was here, or at freddy's, or anywhere for that matter. the circumstances had me feeling nothing but this...deep sorrow because everything had fallen apart."

"because of you!" you screech as you whirl around to him, blood-curdling and angry and followed by a sharp wheeze of breath inward as you try to keep it together, key word try. "because of you, mike. you were the reason that abby almost got taken away, and why we were almost evicted, and why i was fucking killing myself to keep everything afloat!"

"y/n..."

"you were drugging yourself and i picked up your slack! i've helped abby through two school semesters and a summer, showing up late to my second job that i really needed because you were asleep! you missed picking her up so many times that she thought you hated her. she thought she was a burden, mike; crying into my arms every night because she didn't understand why you'd suddenly just given up on her. she tore down all her drawings of you in her room...i remember walking in on her, ripping them to little pieces in her fort with the most heart-breaking cries coming from her. screaming over and over, 'why doesn't mike love me?'" your voice is so shaky, and you're trying to keep your composure, but the thoughts you're conjuring send you further into a breakdown. "i had to help her through that on top of everything else because you checked out. you checked out intentionally, and it's not fair that you get to go out and fuck other people while i have to be here, cleaning up the mess you made!"

"then fucking leave!" mike counters with a yell, taken back by the way he's berating you when the anger he feels is for no one but himself. he doesn't mean to, but your confessions unsettle him, leaving him unable to think logically. he'd gone from excitedly thinking about watching a movie with you and abs, to arguing about his prior lack of involvement with either one of you, and he knew there was only one person to blame. nevertheless, all his foggy brain knew was to yell, to shout out his frustrations until they finally released their hold on his body. "it's not like you're staying with me after all this, so just go ahead and fucking leave," he wishes he could take it back after he says it. he's not thinking straight, and he begs himself to get it together. why can't he stop causing all of this destruction?

"i want to!" your scream is loud, shaking the entire house. you can't believe he's giving up so easily, letting you slip out of his life like you never really mattered at all. "i've wanted to leave since our anniversary!"

"why didn't you then?" his voice is whiny, genuinely disappointed in the fact that you didn't go. "we ignored each other the entire day, ignored each other every day since. why didn't you just leave me?" you figure he was trying to use self-pity as a way for you to empathize, prodding at your heart's soft spot for him, which was, frankly, the entire thing. you couldn't let him win. you couldn't let him trick you again, effortlessly handing over your forgiveness just because he was mike, and you loved him, and he made you melt.

"i always believed things would change," you mutter, pursing your lips with an absent-minded head nod. "asked the universe if i was doing anything wrong by chance, but it was never me. it was you, and i thought that maybe if i toughened it out long enough, you'd see that and work to fix it. too bad you did that after you had sex with someone else, right? felt so guilty that it forced you to make the change, even though you'd already done the one thing you knew i wouldn't forgive? had me forgive you after you'd destroyed everything?"

"please," he whispers, bringing a hand up to quickly swipe at his undereye. "i'm sorry, y/n. i know i don't deserve you. i never have, and i never will. i fucked up, bad, and i'm just..." he stops with a regretful sigh, reaching out to you once more, but before he can say anything else, you blurt, "we're done, mike."

the sentence causes his eyes to fall shut, air coming from his nose as a despondent laugh. "yeah?"

"rushed into all of these responsibilities, thought i could trust you. made me feel safe, made me let my guard down. i thought you were different, mike. after everything that i told you about. all the things you promised you wouldn't do, but none of it matters. it doesn't matter what you say. you lied from the beginning, convincing me that moving in with you would be so great and that we'd be a real family, but this was no family. you didn't support us. you weren't there.you did stupid, reckless things and hurt the ones you love, the ones that love you."

"we're done though, right? don't know why you'd say that, considering that it doesn't seem like you love me much anymore." you couldn't believe him, staring at him with bewildered eyes.

he couldn't believe himself either. who was he? why did he continue to self-sabotage, completely throwing his mouth out to the sharks before it'd had a chance to communicate with his brain? you shake your head, bitterly laughing at him and his reaction and everything around you. the situation had you in tearful knots, laughing this maniacal laugh with tears streaking down your face.

"i'll be out by the end of the week, mike. should figure out what you're going to do about...everything." you give him a tight lipped smile before strolling past him, forcefully knocking your shoulder into his. he almost trips backward, stumbling into the dining table. he deserves it. he deserves everything, with the exception of anything good, you, and abby.

it doesn't take much time for you to pack all your things. you call out of work for a few days, packing while mike snoozes on the couch. he's never actually asleep, eyes closed but fully alert with thoughts and emotions and gripes to himself, about himself.

you didn't have much stuff. you'd sold a lot of duplicate things you'd had when you moved in with mike, his assurance that you'd always have everything you needed bringing you solace you'd always dreamt of. you'd trusted him with everything, and now it left you needing to start (almost) completely over.

you cry about the situation at first, cooped up in the room with a pile of gross, used tissues on your nightstand. you didn’t want for all of this to be over. you’d wanted to be with mike and abby forever, and your brain unhealthily begins to wrack with ideas of what you could do to change things, but…there was nothing you could do.

the damage had been done, and all that’s required of you is to dry your tears and move on like you deserve.

you stuff your car full with everything, and on wednesday afternoon, you're leaning on it outside with your old house key in hand as you wait for mike to come home with abby.

you'd told her about what happened, and she'd let you know that she'd read the emails over your shoulder that night. you two cried together, cuddling and falling asleep in her bed. you wanted to take her with you, but you knew you couldn't; not back to your parent's house. it wasn't yours, and it was fairly small, barely enough space for the three of you. you promised to visit her somehow, and reminded her that she could always text or email you.

mike pulls up on the opposite side of your car, staring at you as you turn and round the front to let abby out. you don't even make it to the door before she's throwing herself out and onto the asphalt, falling to her knees at your feet and wrapping her arms around your shins with earth-shattering sobs. she clings to you so tightly that you'll trip if you try to move. mike watches the whole thing from inside the car, trying to breathe and center himself. he thought you would've taken the entire week to pack, maybe lingering on everything that you two had been, but he'd felt his mouth fill with bile he pulled in and saw you with your car stuffed to the brim. you had three days to spare.

he tries not to think about what his future without you, just him and abby again, would hold. he didn't feel so good about it.

you pull abby upwards and wipe at her tears, brushing hair out of her eyes and caressing the perimeter of her face, blotchy with red. it breaks your heart that you're leaving right as she comes home from school, but you know you can't dwell any longer. besides her, there was nothing left for you here. you'd done everything you could, keeping your heads above water for an entire year. you wouldn't stay somewhere that didn't serve you, and unfortunately, even abbycouldn't change your stance.

you tuck your own curls behind your ears, willing your voice to steady enough so you can talk to her. "keep singing karaoke, okay? record yourself with the webcam i got you and send me the videos. i wanna hear from you, so don't be a stranger. i'm here for you, always. whatever you need, just call, text, carrier pigeon," your last option makes her giggle, nasally and snotty from crying so much. "i love you so much abby, more than you'll ever know."

"i love you so much more, y/n. i want you to stay," she hugs at your legs, and you enclose her in your arms, taking deep breaths as to not cry and dribble all over her. "you were supposed to stay forever. please don't leave me with mike." you can barely hear anything in your ears, the sound of your heart splintering into a million tiny pieces ringing in your eardrums like tinnitus.

a single tear tracks down your cheek as you close your eyes, and you whisper, "i know. i'm so sorry," before giving her a long, low-spirited kiss on the forehead and standing to your full height. "i love you. never forget that."

"i won't," she muses, so small and frail. you hand her your house key and she captures it in her hand, making a tight fist around it. she hands you an index card with her other one, a bright, happy drawing of you and her on the unlined side. "to y/n, from abs" is scribbled on the opposite one. "i made one for myself too, so we could both have one. it'll keep us together, even so far apart."

you kiss at the figure of her on the card, pressing it to your heart. "i'll keep it safe. thank you so much, abby." she smiles, giving you one last hug at the waist before allowing you to move to your car.

once again, what's mike to say, or do, or conjure? nothing will change his mistakes, one after the other that he'd saddled you two with. he didn't know how he could go on after this, feeling the darkness of a deep depression licking at him. he wanted to take twenty ambien. he didn't want to wake up if it wasn't beside you.

you catch his stare for the final time when you start your car, your chest rising and falling with a deep breath. you twist your lips slightly to the side, giving him a head nod that says, "that's a wrap on us."

he returns your movement, lifting his hand in a small wave. you don't wait around, reversing out of the driveway. mike watches you in his rearview mirror, taking another breath before you release it with a smile, settling the card abby gave you on your dashboard. he knows you're smiling because you're free after so long of tying yourself down for him, taking on the weight of the world for three different people, when all you really wanted to focus on was yourself.

he doesn't blame you.

you were going to live your life. you were going to live stress-free. you were going to be young, and do whatever youwanted to do. you'd be careful with your heart but still so full of love, rolling the weight of mike's sins off of your shoulders. none of it was your fault, and you got to leave the house a lot lighter than you'd felt in a while.

your car peels down the road, and mike can't believe that he'll never see you again. he'll never kiss you, or call you baby. he may not do it with anyone else ever again.

abby comes to the car and grabs her things out of the backseat without a word. mike turns to her and her eyes bore into him with the ferocity of a trillion daggers. she's still crying, silently now, slamming the front door of the house shut as she enters. mike knows that she'll probably never forgive him for this, or for anything.

he realizes that everything has led him back to the same position he was in when he'd arrived home from his fling, alone and numbly sedentary in his driver seat.

his body chokes with the first sob, and then the next one, and the next, wholly defeated by your surrender.

well. i suppose this saga has come to an end. this was actually pretty emotional to write, and i may take a tiny break before i get into writing safety net. even though that series is super cute and fluffy, i just need some time to digest wtf i just wrote 😭 this shit HURTS. i hope you all enjoy this. i know it's not very fluffy, but still. sometimes we can't tell a compelling story and service everyone lmao. i think this was the way their story was supposed to end, so i'm happy i was able to execute it how i wanted 💜 lemme know what you think!

faire's seedlings ✿

@leahdhopkins4321-@pyr0-kai-@angstywhore-@sunazroo-@nyxthoughtss-@mirophobic-@fayethor-@marixsimps-@regretfulme-@ithinkitszeph-@707xn-@cattt777-@violetta-ximena-@amnesia33-@topnerd03-@fastnights-@laprvphette-@savage-aespa-@mfdxz-@0-tatiana-0-@dusstory-@delwrites-@nim-rose

#fnaf #fnaf movie #fnaf fic #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt fluff #faire is writing stuff #faire’s mike schmidt <3 #mike schmidt angst #josh hutcherson #this hurt so bad #there was moments where i was shaking as i wrote #i was so anxious to write some of this because MAJOR ANGST

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