Chapter Text
Michael sat upright in the hospital bed. It was already well into the night, but he still could not sleep. Two days have passed since he woke up from his coma, and the doctors are now keeping him here for another day of observation.
Rolling his eyes, Michael knew they simply wanted to study him. They didn’t care; they just wanted to study him like a rat.
Wasn’t that fun?
Fiddling with the foxy plush in his lap—the one that used to sit on his dresser until Evan brought it for him. Michael ran his hands against the softness of it, the repeated motion settling his restless mind.
Everything has been weird these past two days. Father would unusually hover around him, more gentle than he’s ever been. Sure, Father was always alert and aware of his children, but never to the point of being a helicopter parent.
"Father probably thinks I’m going to drop dead any second,” Michael thought with a huff. If anything, this is the most alive he’s ever felt.
Feeling the frequent headache oncoming, Michael adjusted himself to lay down again, angling his head towards the window to see the darkness of the sky. The stars were so bright in their small town, always such a sight to see.
Sometimes, and just sometimes, Michael couldn’t help but wish that he could touch the stars. Even to lay underneath them for years, watching as they twinkled. It was always the most constant thing in his life, never failing to soothe him.
Even when football had been rough, maybe a bad day at school, everyone frustrating him. Michael could always lay underneath the stars and bask; it never happened frequently. Just enough to be important to him.
As he turned back to the ceiling, Michael paused as he heard an unfamiliar noise. It had sounded like a music box, noticeably the one that Uncle Henry had made for Charlie back when she was only eight.
Ah, right, Uncle Henry; the man hadn’t been able to visit yet due to an urgent meeting a few states away. But after a phone call from Father. Uncle Henry was driving back as soon as possible, not wanting to miss out on him waking up.
One side of Michael's face twitched up into a smile, thinking about his kind uncle. The man was always the type to lend a struggling person his shoes, no matter if it’d leave him barefoot for miles.
While he did mean metaphorically, Michael couldn’t help but laugh as he remembered that Uncle Henry had actually once done that.
It was a cold autumn evening. Michael was only ten, but somehow he was allowed to attend a work trip with Henry and Father. It had been nice; they did stay in a less-than-nice motel, but who hasn’t?
It was early enough into the business; they still needed to branch out and partner with other businesses to stay afloat.
Michael had been sitting by the community pool with brightly colored leaves floating around.
The young child was so preoccupied that he hadn’t noticed his uncle talking to a young man, so caught up in the leaves and how they breezed against the water.
That was until he heard his uncle's infectiously loud laughter.
Looking up, Michael had watched his uncle wave off the young man’s concerns before slipping off his black slacks and handing them to the man. Leaving the stranger so shocked, then smiling so largely.
Michael waited until the interaction was over, strolling up to Uncle, where he only reached the man’s waist. “You do know you only packed one pair of shoes, right?” He had questioned me, raising an eyebrow.
Watching in real time as his uncle's smile dropped and his face grayed, “Oh Shit-“ then coughed hard, his hand rapidly hitting his chest.
“Don’t repeat that!” Uncle Henry quickly followed after, his large hand settling on Michael's shoulder before the man quieted down. The two stood there in silence.
Uncle Henry had finally sighed, “Your dad is going to kill me.” Bowing his head for a moment, dark, tight curls hiding his eyes from view, “Yup.” Michael patted his uncle's hand, which rested against his shoulder, before pausing.
“I think you should start running.” Michael innocently looked up at his confused uncle, who quirked an eyebrow. “Why?” He had questioned him, his black eyes looking into his own.
“Because fathers' behind you.”
Sitting in his hospital bed, Michael giggled as he remembered back on that day. Watching as his uncle was chased around the pool, Father practically had steam coming out of his ears as he lectured Henry.
Maybe if Michael wasn’t laughing over the memory and eventually falling asleep, if he had been more aware, he would’ve known that this was the start of it all.
Michael had already been awake for a few hours now, waiting to be discharged as this was finally his last day, stretching his legs out in front of him. It’s not like he’s been lying down every second; he had been ordered to walk around the hospital's halls.
That was nice, but he couldn’t help but wish that he could go outside. To feel the breeze and look up at the bright sky, he also just really wanted to sleep in his own bed.
Michael looked down at his dark red converse, thankful that Rosemary had brought him a pair of clothes to change into. While Michael did like the breeze his legs got, he also really liked being covered up.
The rest of his outfit was thoughtfully picked out; Rosemary had found his favorite ripped jeans, Foxy hoodie, binder, and black boxers. Sure, the hoodie was old, but it was still a size or two too big for him. And that’s what made it comfortable.
Michael glanced around the room before staring down at the black clock. The annoyingly loud tick had bothered him to the point of throwing random shit at it.
And yet, the damn thing withstood it all.
Maybe Michael would’ve been a little impressed if it didn’t make him want to rip his hair out.
Forcing himself to relax, Michael remembered that it wouldn’t be long until his uncle picked him up.
Father was hesitant, but unfortunately everyone else was too busy—work problems, lawsuits, after-school activities, and so on.
It wouldn’t be until late in the evening that they’d be able to grab him. And Michael desperately wanted to leave as soon as possible.
A knock on the door pulled Michael's attention towards it. “Come in!” He called out, his voice already sounding less strained than it had once been.
Entering the room, Henry quickly made his way across the room to enclose Michael in a tight hug. The teen couldn’t stop his smile as he hugged his uncle back.
“Oh, Mikey. I’m so glad you’re okay!” Henry's muffled voice, his face resting, stopped the teens.
“Of course I am; do you really think a football would take me out?” Michael chuckled, ignoring how Henry briefly tightened his grip before letting go of what felt like hesitance. “Of course not; I know you’re too stubborn to...“
Henry cut himself off, looking like he was too uncomfortable to even speak the word. Michael rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as the two avoided eye contact.
“How about we get this show on the road?” Henry offered, smiling gently. Michael quickly stood at the suggestion of finally leaving this damned hospital and said, “Hell yeah!” He cheered, pausing as his uncle raised an eyebrow and said, “Sorry.”
Uncle Henry simply chuckled, waving the nervous teen off. “Nothing I haven’t heard before,” Michael sighed in relief and relaxed his shoulders, running his hand through his slightly better hair.
Michael followed close after Henry; he’d frequented the hospital in his youth but never enough to memorize the halls, not that he really wanted to.
The whole thing was repetitive, you know? Walking down a white hallway, a chair every two doors down, the occasional nurse with a clipboard—none of it was new.
Breathing out a sigh of relief, Michael relaxed his shoulders that he hadn’t realized were tensed. ‘Thank God, I can finally leave this hellhole.’ He bit back a smile, finally reaching the front desk, where Henry signed him out.
It seemed the other was taking his time to fill out the sheet, which sadly bored Michael.
Kicking his foot back and forth, glancing around the waiting room as people sat in the tiny chairs, he said,I swear, those never get cleaned.’
Michael watched as a small wound from a stinger leaked blood onto the chair. Quickly, he glanced away.
Though something caught his attention from the corner of his eye, he glared over his shoulder only to see a glimpse of something.
Well, less of something and more of somebody.
The boy looked young, though Michael could only assume so as the boy's head was down with thick black hair blocking his face.
That wasn’t the alarming part; that would be the blood that soaked the boy's body and hands. Dripping below onto the white floor, oddly, that was the only thing Michael could hear.
The rhythmic tapping of the blood and all other noises drowned out; Michael couldn’t tear his eyes away from the scene. His heart was damn near throwing itself out of his chest, his thoughts racing.
Why wasn’t anybody helping the boy?
A hand on his back jolted Michael from his thoughts, whipping his head around in a panic with his hand flinching upwards to defend himself. Familiar brown eyes stared back at him, stopping him as he stared back.
“Henry, I-“ Panic was evident in his tone, tugging on the older man’s sleeve as he whipped his head around to point to the boy. But there was nobody there.
Not even a single drop of blood stained the floor; nothing could prove the existence of what he saw.
Michael continued to stare, ignoring the confusion on his uncle’s face. It would be hard to explain something that has no proof: the blood was gone, and the same with the boy.
“Michael?” Henry questioned, finally swiveling the teen around to look at him, brown eyes meeting blue.
It took Michael a moment to control himself, evening out the frantic beating of his heart and clenching and unclenching his hands.
“Sorry, I thought I saw something.” Michael mumbled, glancing away as Henry’s eyes felt like they were piercing into his soul.
Instead of the familiar warmth it always brought, all Michael could feel was fire rushing over his body.
Henry still looked like he wanted to say more, but Michael just shook his head. Luckily, Henry respected it and stepped back.
The space helped clear Michael's head, following after Henry again as they left the hospital in silence. It didn’t feel too uncomfortable; at least it wasn’t unbearable.
Seeing Henry’s truck in the distance, a bright and hulking monster of one, Henry unlocked the doors.
It was a little humiliating to have his uncle hovering by him as he climbed in, but he was fine. Thank you.
Slamming the car door shut, Michael watched as Henry made his way across the front end and into the driver seat. The funny rearview mirror ornament swayed as Henry put the car into reverse.
The drive was overall silent; neither seemed too uncomfortable, though as Michael relaxed back into the plush of the seats, Henry was tapping his fingers along to the song on the radio.
Michael looked in the mirror, watching the trees rush past them. It was easy to pass the time; often he’d pretend there was a little stick man running beside the car.
It was easy to get lost in his own head; the music was low enough to not give him an immediate headache, not to mention the jostling of the car that rocked him.
Uncle Henry’s car was always so comforting, warm, and carried fond memories. Uncle Henry always drove him home from every practice, always stopping by an in-and-out just so they could eat in the car and talk.
Uncle Henry, overall, was so comforting.
Sometimes Michael wished he was his dad.
Huh?
Michael sat up more, confusion written across his face. Where did that thought come from? He loved his dad, and he’s always seen Henry as just an uncle, nothing more.
Glancing out the corner of his eye, Michael watched as Henry continued to tap his index finger to the steering wheel, a cheery, soft smile adorning his face.
It looked…odd?
Michael stiffened slightly, unsure why he was beginning to feel so out of his depth, so he turned away to look back out the window. Something wasn’t right; something didn’t feel right.
Henry, unaware of his nephew's turmoil, spoke suddenly as he flashed his blinkers to make a turn. “Hungry?” He questioned, already turning into the restaurant's parking lot.
Michael offered a nervous smile, nodding his head as he didn’t trust his voice, his fingers ghosting over the door handle as Uncle Henry parked the large truck.
This was fine; everything was fine.
Taking a deep breath, Michael unlocked the car door and stepped out. The wind pushed soft brown locks into his face; annoyed, Michael pushed them back with a flick of the wrist.
Noticing Henry was waiting for him, Michael made his way over and prepared himself to face the rest of the day.