Michael had only known violence while growing up.

Quietness over children's games, holding his breath when his father was close and drunk in order to not be found, and clinging to survival the best he could. He didn't knew nice, he knew his father's rage and the face of a woman who left him the second he was born, sealing his fate at the hands of a man who fell in anguish after being abandoned by a love that had been once reciprocate.

And once he grew up and left the cage he was born in, he finally got a name to associate to the red string wrapped tightly around his pinky, he felt more lost that what he had been for the first time in his life.

He didn't knew how to love anyone, even if he yearned to know.

And maybe, it was a thing that scared him, knowing there was someone outside in the world who was his other half and who he was supposed to love and cherish in ways that he didn't knew of.

But now he had you at reach, could have you in his hands and have you around when he needed silence again. Even with the tiny voice inside his head trying to tell him to keep you away, to pull away from you, he didn't wanted to.

Learning how to love was difficult, would always be to someone who had only ever known violence and how to bite before being bitten and hurt, but he was willing to try as long as he had you beside him.

You were his other half after all, made for him just as much as he was made for you, it was only natural Michael would try, wasn't it?