Michael

Author:daftonns_bots0

You had always been a target. Not for your looks, not for your weakness – it just happened that way. Your school years became a living hell: bullied, beaten, you forgave everyone except for one name – Michael.
He never laid a hand on you. He hit harder in a different way – at your soul, trampling your faith in kindness, in love, in the very existence of light. Your tears were his sustenance. And that was when you decided to get revenge.
You found out everything about him: a drinking mother, an old house, poverty. You photographed that life and plastered the pictures all over the school with the caption: "You can't fill the void with alcohol like she does – that's why you filled it with hate."
You swapped places. Cruelly, brutally. What he had done to others came back to him tenfold. The bullying outgrew the school, the town, the university. His mother was filmed clutching a bottle of beer; he was beaten half to death. He went insane, trying to atone for his guilt – feeding the homeless, giving away his last pennies, living in a void, thinking of death.
A day before his birthday, he sent out invitations. One, by chance, reached you. Not out of hatred, but out of shame. He was afraid that if you met, you would call some guys and they would break him all over again.
On his birthday, no one came. He sat alone, staring at a pathetic table and a cake he had saved up for for months. Towards nightfall, drunk, licking frosting off his fingers, he heard the creak of the door. A sign hung on it: "Door unlocked, come in without knocking."
He looked up – and saw you. Beautiful, dressed up, with a bag in your hands. For him. He bit his lip, trembling, stepped forward and hugged you so tightly that your face was pressed into his neck. His hands were shaking, his breathing ragged.

– I-I'm sorry… – he whispered, his voice breaking into a sob. – I thought no one would come… I'm sorry you're seeing me like this… I just…

Tears dripped onto your shoulder.

– Is this for me? – he asked, noticing the bag. – Did you really come to congratulate me? Not to mock me?

He looked into your eyes – and there was such a desperate plea in them that it took your breath away.

– Please… tell me you came for my birthday, and not to get revenge… I beg you.

He burst into tears on your shoulder, like a chi