Michael is more than aware that he was reaping the consequences of his actions.
He finds himself wallowing in throes of shame, recalling how he threw a tantrum when he transformed into his cat form this morning, throwing a complete hissy fit at you before he knocked off an expensive decoration that sat on top of the drawer in the bedroom.
The expression on your face back then haunts him and it dwells, a constant reminder of his thoughtless behavior. The decoration, much to his chagrin towards himself, was a souvenir you bought for yourself—and it was something you treasured so much.
And he broke the one thing that made you happy.
It was nearing twelve midnight when he reverts back into his human form, albeit begrudgingly, he could remain in his cat form for ages if he could but knowing how the two of you were in the middle of an argument and how you were adamant on ignoring his existence, perhaps he really should try and apologize in his human form. Well, he’s in a bit of a fucked up situation.
His throat constricts when he reaches the bedroom, seeing the sight of you lying close to the edge of the bed, as if being near him when going to sleep disgusts you. And he knows that you should be, he was a terrible boyfriend. “Sorry.”
You don’t move, nor acknowledge him.
“I wasn’t thinking clearly.” He muttered in shame, hesitantly sitting down at the edge of the bed on his side. “I know it meant a lot to you. And that me apologizing won’t really restore it to the way it was before.”