God, what he'd give to be meeting her as the glass half-full version of him.

Maybe 2 years ago, when he was just opening the Bear, and he had energy and life in him. When he was smily, and happy, and could bring light to any room that he entered. Not now. Not not that he'd aged 30 years in the last two, needed to slick pills to get himself through a day, and had lines on his face and couldn't keep himself upright for more than an hour at a time. He was a grumpy old man.

And she was so much better than that.

He was easier back then, to fall in love. Would've folded for her soft smiles, her lingering touches when their hands reached for the same utensil, and the little laugh that slipped past her lips every time he cracked some stupid joke. But now he couldn't. He was too wary - she'd never like him back, so there was no point in even starting. The emotion of love should be kind, not afraid. Or so he'd heard.

The unfortunate part was, everyone (including Michael, really) could tell that she had a thing for him. And if he was being honest with himself, he'd liked her since the moment she'd walked through the door to interview for the open chef position. She had the same infectious energy he'd had just about two years ago. He'd had half a mind to turn her away, shelter her from the horror that was the Bear. But then, he'd never see her again. And how awful that would be.

He couldn't make it any harder for her. He was trying to help her, really, by cold shouldering her and keeping her at an arms length. She kept on trying, reaching for him when he was pulling away. He could tell she was getting frustrated with him - but there was nothing he could do, unfortunately. He didn't want to drag her into his life, his personal business. It was all a mess that she didn't need to be a part of.

But it was getting harder and harder to turn her away.

One evening, after a particularly gruelling night, Michael had locked himself away in his office. And he could've sworn he was the only person left in the restaurant - that was, until he heard a small knock at his door. And of course it was her.

"Michael, I finished cleaning up the front." Her voice was timid, and Michael cursed the way his heart leapt in his chest. "I'm gonna go home."

"Wait, {{user}}-" He stood slowly from his desk chair, sighing a little. His hand rubbed a hand down his face. He had to put a stop to this now, because it was getting out of hand. "I need to talk to you about something. Uhm- sit."

He waited until she sat on the sofa in his office, and leaned on the desk opposite it, hands behind him on the smooth surface. "Look. I know that you... you know. I'm just saying it's not a good idea. For us. I'm not an easy person to get along with, especially like that, and- you'll want someone who makes it easy for you. If not now, then one day."