Chapter Text
Norton walks carefully, tries not to be loud. It would be a hassle if someone were to wake up from the noise. Despite his efforts, the floor creaks anyways, and it fills the silence until someone else does; the hum of the oven works diligently. Standing by the entrance to the kitchen, Norton briefly considers returning to his room when Mike, he realizes, speaks.
“Can't sleep?”
Norton isn’t sure how to respond. His hands flex aimlessly,
After a moment, Mike continues to talk. “Well, I usually can’t. It’s so quiet at night, makes me restless.” He’s wearing an apron, standing by the oven.
“...Yeah.” Norton can understand that. It's rare that he's well rested, nightmares finding him whenever exhaustion pulls at his limbs.
Mike stares a little too long for comfort before motioning at Norton to actually enter the kitchen.
Norton does, albeit a little reluctantly. Ever since Mike walked through the door, he’s persistently hung around the prospector with the intention of being friends. At first, Norton wanted absolutely nothing to do with Mike, and did everything he could to push the acrobat away. The other survivors understood he needed space quickly enough, and Norton found it frustrating that Mike didn't seem to get it. But by the time Mike finally realized that, Norton's feelings had changed. He realized too late that he actually… well. He missed Mike taking to him, and to his credit, actually did apologize to Mike regarding his behavior.
Since then, things have reached a new normal: Mike taking naps in the garden while Norton worked in the shed, playing cards after dinner (Mike even taught him a few magic tricks), Norton even tending to Mike after matches (he’s scared of his own blood, it seems). And Norton doesn’t mind it. He enjoys the acrobat’s company, but there’s the issue— he isn’t sure what to make of these recent feelings. It's been a while since he's actually tried to maintain a relationship, and he's not sure what's normal anymore. There are times where he wants to run away. But there's also times where he truly wants to reach out, and Norton isn't sure if he's ever really going to get used to this whole friendship thing.
"Are you hungry?"
Mike's voice drags Norton out of his thoughts. He had walked to the counter without realizing it, a few paces away from where Mike was working. The scent of vanilla stretches through the space between them. "Not really... I just needed some air."
Mike deflates a little, taps the counter as he looks over his setup. "Of course. Well, don't let me keep you."
"It's fine." Norton objects, a little too forcefully, because Mike's head snaps up to look at him. Norton tenses under Mike's stare, has to fumble for words before asking, "What are you making?"
Thankfully, Mike goes with it. "Cupcakes. I didn't really want to make something heavy at this hour, I just wanted to pass the time until I got tired."
"That's fair." Norton looks at all the stuff still left about, bowls and whisks to bags of flour and sugar. "Isn't this kind of a lot though?"
"I guess I got carried away..." Mike notes, lips pursing.
Norton laughs. "That's just like you."
Mike pretends to look offended, but can't hold in his laughter very long. "You're right," he admits, wiping his eyes. "I have no idea what I'm going to do with all of it when they're done."
"Breakfast, lunch, dinner, dessert. You've got it all covered for later," Norton jokes.
"Come on..." Mike pouts a little, shifts so he's leaning against the wooden counter. "You sure you're not hungry? I’ve been told I’m only the greatest cook of all time, you know. It's the opportunity of a lifetime.” Norton raises an eyebrow, an ok sure, and Mike laughs. “Seriously! Everyone back home would praise me.”
Right. Norton can’t say no, can he? It would be rude. “Okay. But if you make something terrible, I’ll write a bad review.” Norton grins slightly at his own joke.
Mike runs with it, eyes lighting up mischievously. “As if I could disappoint an esteemed customer like yourself! Just watch me.” Mike steps back, raises his arms outward in a grandeur motion. “I’ll make a show out of it! Mike Morton at Olteus Manor!”
Norton resists the urge to laugh. “Sorry, but I don’t find circus tricks impressive.”
Mike, being mature, sticks his tongue out at Norton. “So rude.” There’s no bite to Mike’s voice. He breaks his gaze to look at the counter, checks the clock before looking through the cupboards. “I'll just keep going then. Frosting is quick, and the first batch is already in the oven so it shouldn't be long.”
"Not like I got anywhere else to be."
Mike huffs softly. "Thanks." With his conscience cleared, Mike turns his attention entirely to the task at hand.
Norton watches. Mike is surprisingly quiet while he works, save for the inconsistent humming and constant foot tapping. Like this, Mike suddenly looks a lot older— more handsome, rather. His brow furrowed slightly, whisking fast. Norton wonders if Mike’s always been like that, and if he’s simply noticing now, how the acrobat glows under the incandescent light. He's so hyper all the time Norton sometimes forgets that there are moments where he can be serious too.
It’s only when Mike waves a hand in front of Norton’s face that he snaps out of his thoughts. The acrobat’s holding a cupcake. The smell of vanilla is noticeably stronger now, and Mike's starting at him with open amusement.
“They’re done! What are you spacing out about?”
“Nothing… That was fast.”
"Maybe? I've been up for a while, so it doesn't feel that way to me. The first batch was almost done when you found me."
Norton just makes a noise of acknowledgement, still a little disoriented.
“There’s a bunch more obviously, but I figured you ought to start with one.” Mikes says, waving the cupcake in his hand, looking less amused and more concerned. "You ok?"
“Yeah," Norton says, finally taking the dessert. "Guess I'm more tired than I thought.” Norton wastes no time biting right into it, since they're not actually wrapped or anything, and- Oh.
Oh wow. It’s good, really good. Norton isn’t sure what he was expecting, but this is definitely above and beyond. He's not even a sweets person, preferring savory foods and often finding dessert to be too sweet, but he could definitely have seconds of this. It's really light in a way that hits his stomach without resistance.
Mike looks at him expectantly, and maybe Norton really is tired, because his moods dips into something more tense. What? He wants to ask, but... The thought sneaks up on him then, that maybe Mike simply did this because he wanted something in return. Who would just offer Norton food out of the good of their heart? Mike’s waiting for something, and Norton doesn’t know what . Just like the rest of them, leering as if he’s the circus act instead—
“So, are you going to write that bad review?”
“What?” It hits Norton as the word comes out, recalling the quip he made earlier. Mike just wants to know what he thought of the food. “Oh." Norton feels stupid all of a sudden, frustrated that he overthought things again. "Sorry. No, I mean… It's good.” Mike’s smile grows despite Norton's stumble, and Norton’s chest feels so very tight.
“I’m glad.” Mike steps back to try one himself, humming softly.
Why are you being so nice? The question dies in Norton’s throat and stings sharply when he swallows. Perhaps the acrobat, despite his clear lack of personal space, just wants a friend. But even if those intentions are true, Norton has no need for cupcakes or frosted covered spoons. It’s all pleasantries, his mind screams. Sooner or later, the acrobat will get comfortable, and then he’ll ask for what he wants. He’ll ask, and this facade will be over. Norton will be alone again.
But is it really so wrong to believe Mike means it? Norton knows, logically, that he's not the most reasonable when it comes to people anymore. He can't help it, doesn't think he can ever escape the past when it still haunts him so vividly. No matter how much he tries to stay up, sleep will inevitably catch up with him, and that's something Norton thought he came to terms with. These days, he finds himself afraid to sleep again. Sometimes, he thinks it's unfair. In the dead of night, or during moments like this, Norton wishes he could accept Mike's kindness for what it is. He has to remind himself that he isn't dreaming, right now. There are no ghosts here.
Norton steps over to where Mike’s eating by the finished batch, and grabs another cupcake. Mike shoots him a thumbs up. It takes a moment before Norton gives a thumbs up back, enjoying the dessert.
“Where’d ya learn to bake like that?” He asks.
Mike covers his mouth with his hand to answer. “The circus, if you can believe it. We traveled a bunch, you see. I had met a lovely chef in one of the larger cities, and he taught me the whole time I was there. When I finally showed off my skills to the rest of the troupe, boy were they surprised!” Mike laughs, having finished his cupcake.
“The city… I’ve never been.” Norton grew up in a mining town, but he’s always liked what the city stood for. Dazzling lights, success, glory. He’s had his chances, but it just didn’t feel right to go after the accident. He grabs another cupcake and asks, "What's it like?"
Mike claps his hands, eyes lighting up. “Oh, it really is a wonderful sight! We didn’t have a constant kitchen with all the traveling, but I’d practice in old restaurants— for free, mind you, and it was grand. Ever see a restaurant kitchen?” Norton shakes his head. “Well, it’s boisterous and bustling with life, the whirs of both people and machines. If I wasn’t such a stellar performer, I should think I’d have ended up a chef.” Mike waves his arms around as he speaks, as though he could paint the scene in the air for them both. There’s an excitement he carries that’s different when he talks about things from his past, and Norton almost envies it.
“I believe it. You’d be popular too, I could eat a whole lot of these.” Norton finishes his third cupcake just to prove his point.
Mike goes quiet to stare at him.
“What?”
Mike blinks, and then takes a step towards Norton, reaching up at his face. “There’s frosting…” Mike wipes the frosting off with his thumb as Norton stands still, dumbfounded. “There.” Mike smiles, satisfied with himself, and smears the vanilla on his apron. Norton, possessed, grabs the Mike's hand. When Mike looks up at him, lips parted in confusion, Norton feels like his chest will burst. His breath is shallow, heartbeat rising with every second. He isn’t sure how long he stands there, hand in hand with Mike. He isn’t sure it matters.
"Why..." The question falls flat. There's too much Norton wants to ask, too overwhelmed by the sudden intimacy.
Mike bites his lip, considering something, his expression turning as serious as it was when he was focusing on the food. His voice is quiet when he finally admits, "I don't think I ever really wanted to be your friend."
"What?"
Norton's shock must've been written on his face, because Mike squeezes Norton's hand and quickly clarifies, "That's not what I meant! I just... I like you a lot. Too much."
"Seriously?" The admission doesn't make Norton as uncomfortable as he might've thought it would months ago. It's actually kind of nice, knowing that Mike feels that way. For Norton... Mike has always been 'too much,' an anomaly that didn't make any sense in his life until he made the space for it. Now, nothing else will fill that space in Norton's heart. It's a realization that scares him, unsure of what that really means, leaves him doubting.
"Yeah." Mike affirms. "You don't have to do anything, really. I suddenly felt like you should know."
Norton looks down at their hands, confused by his contradicting feelings. It's not that he doesn't want to respond. It's not that he doesn't feel something similar right now, either. But his heart's trying to claw its way up his throat, and he doesn't trust it to say the right thing.
Tentatively, Norton lets go of Mike's hand for a second to lace their fingers together. Mike's grip is tighter when they rejoin, expression twisted in thought when Norton glances up at him, as if feeling conflicted. "Should I not have done that?"
Mike struggles to find a response. "I didn't expect you to act like this."
Norton's not entirely a fool. He knows what this looks like, even if he doesn't have the words for what it truly is yet. "I didn't either."
"Do you even know what you're doing?"
"No." It's true. Norton can't lie about that, when he can't even tell which way his stomach is twisting.
That actually gets Mike to laugh softly, head dipping down as he smiles.
Norton stares.
Mike looks up at him, catching his gaze.
"I... don't think this is what friendship feels like."
"Yeah," Mike says. "You're probably right."
Mike leans in first, gently pulling Norton by his forearm— as always, Mike’s the first to take a step between them. Norton mirrors him, entranced. They meet each other easily, far easier than it took to get to this point, and for a moment all Norton can think about is Mike. Their kiss is soft and sweet, the taste of frosting still on both their lips. Norton melts into it, feeling warm, and wraps an arm around Mike's waist without thinking. Mike pulls him closer, relishing in the contact. Norton loses himself in it.
But when Mike squeezes his hand again, the weight of it tethers Norton back to reality, away from Mike. He steps back suddenly, untangling himself from their embrace. The aftershock of his actions hit him hard, leaves him dizzy. Norton just doesn’t get it: why him ? Why is Mike continuously letting himself be vulnerable in front of Norton, holding a sincerity that Norton can’t reciprocate? It’s infuriating. Norton isn’t… worth this. Unreasonable attention, unwarranted affection, ever since Mike came through those doors, and what has Norton done with it?
Mike straightens up to look at Norton, but he averts his gaze as he laments, “I can't do this. I’ve not been kind to you.”
There's a moment of silence between them, where those words hang in the air. Norton bites his cheek. Things are better this way.
“I wouldn’t say that." Mike counters, "You've been plenty kind.” It’s almost a whisper, soft and gentle like the way Mike stares at him.
“Then what?” Norton’s anxiety rises in waves, crashes so violently he could drown in it, feel the water clog his ears and blind his sight. He didn’t mean for his voice to be so loud.
Mike flinches at it, but regains himself easily. “Distrustful? I’m not sure what it is exactly, but you’re not a bad person.”
“You don’t know that.” Norton’s voice shakes near the end.
Mike gives him one of his sad smiles, sighs in a way that makes Norton feel foolish. “Sure, I can admit that. But I want to. I want to know everything there is to know, when it comes to you.”
Norton’s heart pounds against his chest so loudly he wonders if Mike can hear it, the cacophony of guilt that eats him alive when he breathes. “...What happens when you don’t like what you find?”
“What happens when I do?” Mike closes the distance between them (again, again, again) and keeps a hand on Norton’s cheek, his thumb swaying against Norton’s skin. “You’re always so serious. I like that about you, though.”
Mike stares at him with so much mirth it makes Norton feel helpless. Mike wraps his arms around Norton’s shoulders and he knows this is a bad idea. He struggles to speak, his mind yelling at him to run, get out before Mike finds out the type of man Norton really is. But Mike’s staring at him like he’s worth something, and maybe he wants to feel like he’s worth that— more than the loose change he grew up with, more than the empty luxury he worked so hard for.
He’s certain Mike is an angel, sent by the heavens to finally punish him— end the curse that is living, surviving, far longer than anyone else. What other reason is there to explain someone so bright giving him such temporary compassion? Against his better judgment he relaxes, leans into his angel’s touch. When Mike kisses him again Norton feels as though he’s already died, like nothing on earth could give him what he has right now, at this moment.
There will never be more than this, he thinks. There will only ever be this moment.
This is it, he thinks, and lets himself go.