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Send a symbol and my muse will show up in your's house at 3AM...Â
⤠- with a large, bleeding wound
 Michael wasnât so very sure he had the strength left in him to even raise his fist and knock, but apparently he did, and he stepped back afterwards, trying to keep his eyes open and his feet planted firmly on the ground. He was swaying like a motherfucker, his vision going out-of-focus every few seconds and the world beginning to spin. He was freezing, too, but he was pretty sure that was less to do with the weather and more to do with the blood-loss he was experiencing right now.
  He still wasnât sure what had hit him, other than that it had created an explosion as big as a Creeper (although there was no telltale hiss of the creature) and left Michael with burn wounds and a large bleeding wound in his side thanks to a chunk of flying debris.
 âFucking hurry the fuck upâŚâ Michael hissed out, gritting his teeth and biting down on his tongue a little. Which, okay, not the brightest idea. Making himself bleed even more? Deeeeefinitely not smart, but hey, the pain was keeping him awake, and thatâs what he needed. Until Cloud opened the door anyway, if he ever fucking got around to it!
Michael was about to say fuck it, slump over on Cloudâs front step and bleed to death right then and there as a sort of twisted âfuck youâ to the spiky blonde man, maybe write a âthanks for nothing assholeâ in his blood for good measure and die with his middle fingers pointing straight to the sky, but it looked like whoever was up there decided to finally open the door.
 Whoever was up there being Cloud, apparently, because Michael had just enough time to meet Cloudâs confused eyes and mumble out a âfinally, assholeâ before he stumbled forward and passed out. Heâd let Cloud take care of his dying ass, but for now, heâd sleep and hey, if he never woke up, what the fuck would he care? And if he did, then Cloud did his job right and Michael would take the lecture thatâd come with it.
