Chapter Text
It had been four days since Abby was sent home for having the Flu. She was recovering swiftly, getting her fever down to 99.3 degrees, and feeling overall better. Vanessa was at home with her while Mike worked (he didn’t want to lost another job). Ever since he held her as she vomited earlier that week, he had been feeling progressively shittier.
He was sick very often (yay genetics), about every month, but this time, it felt worse. At first, it was just feeling extra tired, which he played off as being from taking care of her. Then, he got a small cough, from ‘allergies’. Next came a consistent headache, then terrible aches racking through his body, intermittent chills, flushed cheeks, clammy skin, and an overall shitty feeling followed . He, of course, didn’t tell anyone when he woke up that morning, anyone of his co-workers, his boss. He had felt especially terrible that morning, he could recall.
3pm isn’t a super busy time at a café, especially at a local place such as Ginger’s. Mike nearly fell asleep on his feet, disturbed by a sudden ring of the bell, signifying a customer. It was two people, a tall, gruff man, and a little boy, similar in multiple ways to Garrett.
He had moved on from Garrett’s disappearance that summer, knowing he had Abby left. Of course, he thought about him often, wondering what life would be if he was alive. He couldn’t get over an odd feeling about the man, whom he presumed was the boy’s father.
“Welcome to Ginger’s, what can I-” He greeted in his best ‘I’m not physically exhausted and probably ill’ voice, only to be interrupted be the man.
“Coffee. Black. Make it two.” The man stared at him with expressionless eyes, saying coffee more like ‘cawfee’.
“Okay, name?”
“You can call me Steve.”
He put in the order into the register, confused why he was getting two coffees, and not something without caffeine for the boy. Maybe it’s for some else. His logic told him, but he got an increasingly bad feeling about this. It had to be a coincidence that his name was Steve, the fake name of the man who killed Garrett.
The order was done in minutes, due to the simplicity. The man fisted the boy’s back aggressively, pushing him further to the counter. William Afton is dead, Mike. Garrett is dead. It’s okay. He didn’t even say thank you as he left. Mike wasn’t able to process it, as his muscles screamed at him in agony.
He looked out of the window, seeing the parking lot. Steve’s car was similar to William’s. He swore he could see Garrett’s innocent face staring back at him as the car pulled out. The same helpless, unknowing face he saw in his nightmares. The face he’ll never see again in real life. The face that’ll be eternally young in his mind.
“Hey, why’d you write Steve on that woman’s cup?” His co-worker said lightly, adding milk to someone’s coffee. “She said her name was Angela.”
He blinked in disbelief. He hallucinated all that? “That..but I heard…there was a woman? The little boy…” He slurred, barely able to hear over his own heartbeat and a ringing sensation.
“Geez, Mike. Are you okay?” They asked, placing the coffee on the pickup counter. “There was no boy…do you need a break or something? …Water?”
His legs felt wobbly, his arms heavy. “Uh, yeah..”
The break room felt impossibly far away. He told himself to go one step at a time, and even that felt hard. Sweat fell down in droplets like tears, the pounding in his head got worse, the world span past him, and suddenly, his vision went black. The last thing he remembers is crashing onto the floor.
- ⭐️ -
“Mike? …Mike? Mike!” A familiar voice called as Mike’s hearing slowly returned. The voice belonged to his co-worker.
He winced in pain as his headache roared. The situation he was in came back to him in a flood. The room around him was dimly lit, however golden sunlight streamed in through a window. A microwave and a coffee machine were on a table, and an arm chair beside gave him the clue of where he was. It was the break room.
“-so I called your girlfriend to pick you up.” They said, he had blocked out them speaking.
Girlfriend? “…I don’t have a girlfriend, Max…”
“It’s Ace. And I guess Vanessa Shelley is your..friend? She’s the only one on your emergency contact list.”
Their boss opened the door, leaning on the frame. “Your girlfriend is here. Come back when you’re better.”
He didn’t have the energy to correct her, so he took off his apron and left. Vanessa had her hair down, and was wearing her favorite gray cardigan, wrapping it around herself like an old lady. Abby was at her side, blanket hanging on her shoulders. They were staring at him with the same eyes: concerned with an edge of ‘You did this to yourself’. He felt heat rising from his ears, realizing he was in public, and café patrons were staring at him. Vanessa’s police car was parked near the entrance. She offered a hand onto his back, and he had to fight himself to not lean into it and collapse into her arms.
“You need to learn to communicate your feelings, Mike Schmidt.” She lectured, slipping into the driver’s seat. “This could’ve been prevented if just said you weren’t well.”
“Yeah, Mike Schmidt!” Abby instigated from the backseat.
All he wanted was sleep, not a lecture. “…It’s your fault, Abigail Schmidt.” Some humor would be nice, he thought.
“Is not!”
“Is to…”
“Is-“
Vanessa interrupted their quarrel. “Stop it, you two.” She said, sounding like a mother more than a friend. “It’s both of your faults, now hush up.”
He was grateful she stopped them, creating quiet, as the noise was worsening his head. The late-afternoon sun was actively setting behind the trees, disorienting considering it was only 4pm. Daylights saving was weird. It was too bright, much too much. The radio was playing Hey Lover! quietly. Vanessa hummed to it, Mike’s head throbbed to it. The light turned red. She glanced over at Mike, now noticing how deep eye bags had gotten, how a layer of sweat stuck to his forehead, how small he looked. Pitiful, even.
“How…long have you feeling like this?”
He sleepily looked over at her. “Four days and counting, I think.”
“Oh, Mike…”
The light turned green, but she stayed in place for a second, staring at him. She pressed on the gas when she heard cars honking from behind. She turned onto their street, parallel parking with ease. Mike had managed to fall asleep on the window on the time between the stoplight and home.
“Mike, wake up.” She shook his shoulder gently.He didn’t stir. “Mike-”
Abby, who was staring at them from the back, whispered in Vanessa’s ear. “I think you should carry him,”
She thought about it, knowing how he would struggle to walk. Now on his side, she put her arms under his shoulders and knees, carefully lifting him up bridal-style. He seemed to realize that he being moved, but not that he was in mid-air in the arms of his best friend. She instructed Abby to get the key from her pocket and unlock the door.
“Uh, can you go draw in your room for a bit, Abby? I’ll be starting dinner soon.” Vanessa asked, now tasked with what to do.
Abby would never turn down an opportunity to draw. She seemed sleepy, despite not doing much that day. She had just watched cartoons, took a nap, ate a grilled cheese, and made a sketch (it was a dog, specifically a golden retriever puppy). But that was okay, sick people were supposed to do nothing.
The house felt more comfortable than usual, with the curtains down, a lamp being the only lighting in the room, and all the blankets they owned sprawled out in the living room. She gently placed him on the couch, expecting him to continue sleeping.
He stirred awake. “…Mom…?” He squinted up at her. “Oh, shit…Vanessa! Sorry…I saw…something”
“It’s okay. Your fever is probably pretty high, speaking of…”
He realized he was in his house, not the car. “How did I get here…?”
“I carried you.”
He didn’t seemed to want to process that, opting to close his eyes again. Her main priority right now was to find a thermometer, and after that, bring down his fever. She found it on Abby’s nightstand. Abby was quietly coloring away at her desk, but stopped and followed Vanessa. After thirty seconds under his tongue, it read 102.7, a number that made her frown.
“That’s a big number,” Abby observed over her shoulder.
“You used to be at 102. It’s not a good temperature to be at,”
She look up at her with curious, tired eyes. “Why?”
“Well, fevers are the body’s natural way to fight infection with heat. Your body temperature increases, as it helps your immune system fight against an attack. However, when it gets higher, it can be damaging to other parts of your body, like your organs. Mike’s temperature isn’t at that point yet, and we have to make sure it doesn’t.” She explained.
“Oh, okay, and since my fever is pretty low, it’s just fighting off the infection?”
“Yes, and once it’s broken, you’ll be able to go back to school.”
Abby huffed at that. “I don’t want to go back…”
“Shh.” Vanessa soothed. “Attendance is important, you gotta be there if you’re able.”
Mike cleared his throat dramatically, to stop a potential tantrum from Abby, only for it to result in a coughing fit. It sounded raspy, like he smoked a pack of cigarettes every day since he was 15. His sister whacked his back with her fist, and as Vanessa was about to tell her off for it, he stopped coughing. His eye bags looked bruised and deep, his small frame shivered in the heated room.
“God, you look awful.” Vanessa said softly to him.
“…Thanks for your flattery, Nessa…”
“I agree with her.” Abs replied, smiling slightly.
She needed to make sure he was comfortable, but not overheating. A soft, thin blanket was now placed on him, he gripped as if his life depended on it. His eyes were shut tight, leaning against the soft armrest. Abby decided to curl up next to Mike.
“M’ just going nap for a bit…” I’ll deal with medicine tomorrow…
Now it was just Vanessa in Mike’s armchair, watching the news, and a sleepy, feverish brother-and-sister duo on the couch. Since Mike could afford it, the heating roared lightly in the distance. Cold November winds hit the windows outside.
Vanessa fell asleep as some bizarre [adult swim] show played. Her last thought before unconsciousness took over was about socks, for some reason.