Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

September 1998...

As he repeatedly put one foot in front of the other, Mika slowly walked back home from school. Walking wasn’t nice when your body hurt. Walking wasn’t nice especially when you’d just been pushed by kids from your class. They’d pushed him on the ground several times, calling him names he didn’t even dare think of, otherwise he would burst down crying again. However, they all still rang through his brain, making it impossible to quiet the thoughts. ‘Hey, look, it’s our dearest little faggot’, ‘the freak has arrived again’ and ‘why isn’t the baby crying now?’ were things he heard daily at his school. He despised it, there was nothing he could do about the whole situation. The only ones that helped him deal with it by not urging him to do work when he was already exhausted – because of the bullying, but they didn’t have to know that – were his sisters Yasmine and Paloma, but since Yasmine turned 20 she’d moved out for her study. So, now the only one who really understood him was his older sister Paloma, who was 17 – two years older than he was.

He eventually reached the door of his home and opened it with shaking hands. He hadn’t noticed he was shaking, the pain in his body was too much to notice small things like this. When he’d opened the door, he stepped into the hall, putting his bag down on the floor. He let out an audible sigh of relief, his whole body aching.

“Hey, Mika, how was-…” His sister’s voice sounded behind him, and he turned around instantly, not having expected her home already. She interrupted herself when she saw his face. “Oh my god, you’re bleeding! What happened?”

He wanted to hide away in a little corner of the room, he’d tried his hardest to hide the bullying from his family, they’d only get worried and push him to stand up against them. Which, well, somehow he couldn’t.

“Mika? Oh, dear, come on,” She gently lead him into the kitchen, putting a washcloth under the faucet in the kitchen, which she then put on his forehead where there was a scratch from being thrown onto the ground by his bullies – his supposed ‘friends’. He winced when the cold fabric touched his skin, but his sister gently soothed him and held him close. “What happened? Can you tell me?”

“Kids… from my class.. They threw me on the ground and called me names…”

Paloma softly shook her head, and sighed. “Did they do that more often, at times you didn’t tell me?” She knew Mika didn’t really want to answer that question, but she asked it anyway because it was important, and worth a try. To her surprise, he actually nodded, and she sighed again. “What else do they do? Is it just them?”

“Someone once pushed my head in the toilet, and they often write stuff on my table… It’s not just them, one of my teachers also does it. She makes fun of me for not being able to-… to read..” His sister nodded understandingly and he continued in a small voice, “She made me stand up on a chair in the middle of the classroom while the others wrote poems about me, which they’d get a grade on…”

“Oh, Mika… For how long has this been going on?”

He shrugged, not wanting to tell her. However, she noticed this, and comfortingly stroked his back, softly. After a bit of silence, he found the courage to speak about it all – it was rather a sensitive subject. “Months. Maybe a year, I-… I don’t know… A long time. I'm so angry... Why can't I ever speak up about it?! I want to! I really want to! I just... can't seem to be able to... And that's so frustrating!...”

"Sshh, it’s okay,” She soothed him, putting her arms around him and stroking his hair in an attempt to comfort her little brother, “It's not your fault, the world isn't used to you being you. It's the world that should change, not you. You told me there was this one teacher who you loved, right? It’s not her who you are upset about?"

He shook his head with a small smile, despite how horrible he felt. "No, it’s not her. The teacher I love is called Mrs. Cooney, she always makes me a cup of tea at the start of class and she taught me how to solve stuff with my dyslexia, I have to draw circles and inside of that I have to write what I have to do. It really works!"

Paloma chuckled and nodded, letting her brother go to clean the washcloth of the bits of blood. “That’s great, I’m glad. I assume you haven’t made your homework yet?” Mika shook his head, not verbally answering, and she nodded to herself. “That’s okay, make sure to tell Mum, though. I’m sure she won’t be very happy. But first, you need to rest.”

Mika let himself be taken upstairs and tucked into bed, even though it was midday, he quickly fell asleep. He was absolutely exhausted from all the happenings of the past week. However, his rest was soon interrupted by sounds of trying to be quiet while arguing. He could catch some words of his sister and mother, “He has to be taken from that school, Mum!”, “It’s the only school in the area, I’ve told you a thousand times. Peux-tu te taire?” and “Je m'en fiche, il a besoin de ça. Apprenez-lui à la maison s'il le faut.”

Yes, he wanted to be homeschooled, if it would mean not having to face the terror of being alive in the same room as anyone from his school. He was done with this all. He didn’t want to do anything anymore, even music didn’t appeal to him. The boys at school teased him about it, that’s why. They teased him about everything, just to ruin his life. He truly didn’t want to believe them, but it was hard when somehow he couldn’t talk back at them. It was if his tongue had been swallowed, he genuinely couldn’t speak to them, so he just let it happen.

He always wondered what was wrong with him. He needed to be okay, otherwise he was sure he couldn’t handle this much longer. Because of his sister, he now knew he would be at least a bit alright, and he couldn’t be more grateful – she was one of the reasons he still believed in faith. God must love her.

Chapter Text

March 2000...

It had been a year since Mika was going back to school again. The homeschooling had worked; although he had barely spoke a word to anyone other than his sisters, he’d been doing better when it came to reading and solving problems. Mrs. Cooney had even paid him a visit once, a check-up to see how he was doing. It was obvious he’d switch schools, which he’d done when he went to school again, after six months of only being at home, taught by his mother. She wasn’t the best teacher. Obviously, he couldn’t have expected her to be, but at times he wanted to be back at his old school, despite not being in the comfort of his own home then. It wasn’t like it was all a luxury – it was the thing that was best for him right now. He needed the calm environment, the routines, the ability to stay in bed when he was really too anxious to do anything. He needed to see his sisters more often. He needed it all, and it did him well.

Now, Yasmine was finally home again after having been absent for about three months. Her study got quite busy, she hadn’t been able to visit them. However, she was here now, sitting with her younger brother in the living room, who was writing something. He looked very concentrated, and Yasmine glanced over at the paper to see what he was doing. “What are you writing?” She asked, genuinely interested. It looked similar to some kind of poem, but she didn’t know that for sure. The brilliant mind of her younger brother – Fortuné excluded, he was five years old, it wasn’t as if he was cool yet – always came up with the most brilliant things, and she was quite sure this was one of those.

He briefly looked up from his paper to smile at her. “A song,” He answered, “It’s called Over My Shoulder. So far I really like it.” It was a personal song, the lyrics were about things they never talked about in this household. Or, rather, what their mom didn’t talk about. Mental health was a kind of taboo in their household, but not for the oldest two sisters. They’d both gone through puberty with depression, it hadn’t been easy with a mother who didn’t believe in illnesses that weren’t seeable on the outside. They wanted to make it easier for their little brother, who had it even worse than they did – he was autistic, and so he processed everything more intense and didn’t understand some things.

“Fog out my daylight, torture my night..? Mika, are you okay?” She knew he wasn’t okay, but it was worth asking. It showed she was there for him, which was all he needed right now.

Her little brother shrugged. No, he wasn’t okay in the slightest. The bullying had started again, less severe than first, but it was there. And he still couldn’t speak up about it all. He genuinely didn’t want life to be like this – he didn’t want to live, that was clear. He was angry, but not at them. He was mostly angry at himself. It had been a clear thing when they’d found him unconscious on the bathroom floor, when they’d rushed him to the hospital to keep him alive. His mother didn’t believe it was all that severe, and Yasmine genuinely wanted to punch her sometimes. Yes, she was sweet and caring, but she could also be an asshole. Gosh, and then we haven’t even started on the homophobia. She actually yelled at him when he had a crush on Billy from his class – she wanted him to like girls, to have a wife and children she could show off to her Lebanese relatives. It was horrible, really.

“Michael,” She said, using the name only his family could – his birth name was Michael but he went by Mika basically everywhere. It worked to get his attention, also now. “Answer me. What do you need? What can I do for you? You’re clearly not okay, otherwise you wouldn’t write things like this.”

“I’ve been feeling like this since I was 9 years old, its nothing new. It has been this bad since I was 12, I used to hurt myself in the school bathrooms when the bullying and the numbness became too much. Seriously, you should’ve known.” He said dryly, and Yasmine nodded slightly, not having expected him to bring it up like this. “Especially after my overdose... I’m not okay, Yasmine, shit like this has ruined my childhood. That one teacher ruined my childhood, I am now officially scared of teachers. That’s why I get bullied now – because I panic every time a teacher asks me anything.”

Yasmine nodded again and let out a small sigh, sitting down on a chair next to him, putting her hand on top of his. She wanted to show him she’d be there for him all the way, whatever would happen to him or her, she’d still be there. He needed the support, and she’d happily provide it. “I’m sorry, Mikey…” She said, using an old nickname, which got her a glare and a chuckle from the younger boy. He raised an eyebrow, and she smiled.

“If I may, I think fading away could be replaced with running away, it’d fit the theme better. Don’t you agree?”

Mika thought for a bit, then nodded and erased a word to replace it with his sister’s suggestion. He smiled softly, realizing she was right – it did fit the theme better. He didn’t like to admit it when someone was better at something than him, but she really was better than songwriting than he was. Or, at least, that’s what he thought at this moment. He was sure it’d change soon. “Yeah, actually, I agree. Thank you!”

He still hadn’t moved his hand. Normally, he didn’t like to be touched, but apparently he really was getting a bit better. When he didn’t like to be touched, he was usually overstimulated, something that happened quite quickly if you’d add up terrible experiences of the day: the bullying, the names he used to be called, the homophobia in his family – yet, now he was genuinely doing better, and she could see it.

“No problem at all.” She chuckled, and read through the entirety of the lyrics he’d scribbled down so far in a rush of creative inspiration – something that he did quite often the past weeks. It were easy lyrics, repetitive, but she was sure the melody would make up for that. After all, her little brother was a huge genius when it came to making his own music, in his own style. He always kept true to himself, which Yasmine thought was beautiful.

“Can you sing the song for me, maybe?”

Chapter Text

March 2006…

Something that came with being a musician was performing, touring, playing live. Those same things held all the elements Mika had a hard time with – loud noises, bright lights, unexpected things happening, eyes on him, unfamiliar environments, change, et cetera. It was a genuine hell. Something that also didn’t quite help was his stage fright. Every single time he had to set foot onto a stage, he either had a panic attack or a meltdown. Of course, he’d done it before, as a kid, but this was different.

Now, however, he was famous, so he had to get used to that all. He had to get used to everything that came with his song Grace Kelly – the song that wasn’t the slightest bit a happy song, whatever anyone would tell him about his own song. Obviously he didn’t mind that his songs made people happy, but they didn’t have to tell him what to think about his own music, his own form of therapy.

“Michael? Hello? Are you coming?”

Mika sighed and stood up from the couch in the small dressing room. His sister Yasmine had called him to the stage – where he was supposed to be five minutes ago – to help him get used to the environment and the lights. He appreciated it, truly, but he was scared he’d mess everything up. This concert was the very first he’d have where he was certain people would know his music. It was terrifying. He hadn’t planned this in the slightest. He hadn’t planned that he’d have to throw away the familiarity of his life for the unexpectedness that came with being a familiar musician.

He had dreamed of being a singer for a long time, but now that it came into reality, he was liking the idea less and less. He had met some of his fans before, and it’d been a nice change – one he didn’t mind. Now, however, since Grace Kelly hit number one, he was barely able to go to the grocery store without being recognized.

“Mika?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.”

He shook his head to clear it from any thoughts and took a deep breath, looking himself in the eyes in the mirror that was hanging on the wall of the dressing room. He knew he could do this. He would eventually be able to do this. He wanted to, truly, as long as people would respect his boundaries. He hoped that the stage would feel like a second home eventually.

“Where were you?” His sister asked sternly – he could hear the loving tone in her voice, though, so it was no reason to be upset – when he came backstage, where the crew was preparing their instruments and microphones, and goofing around a bit. Mika shrugged, he didn’t want to tell her how utterly terrified he was of messing everything up. What if everything was so overwhelming he’d have a meltdown in the middle of the gig?

Yasmine eyed him up and down, and eventually sighed softly and took his hand in hers. “Come on, there’s a lot I need to show you.” They walked onto the stage together, and Mika marveled at how many people would be able to see him from there. “Can we have lights, please? No, yeah, the stage lights.” Suddenly, the spot turned on, as Yasmine had requested. It was bright. So bright, he closed his eyes and whimpered – for some reason, it hurt. The brightness hurt, and he knew it would only be amplified when people would only be looking at him because of this.

“These are the normal lights on stage,” His sister said softly, “so.. you’ll have to get used to it. C’mon, open your eyes, I’m here. It’ll be okay.” Mika did as he was told and immediately felt his other senses shut down. Every little noise was too much, everything besides his eyes were now extremely sensitive. He covered his ears with his hands and softly mewled in distress. Did he seriously have to perform like this? How was he ever gonna do that?

Yasmine gently laid her hands on top of his, which were still covering his ears, and looked him in the eyes. She then moved one hand from his ear to his forehead, and kept it there. The warmth and familiarity of it made him slightly more comfortable, and he uncovered his ears slowly, seeing if he was comfortable doing so.

“There you are. Hi,” She said softly, smiling, genuinely proud of her little brother. “Do you think you can sing a bit? I’ll go sit in the audience right now, so you can test if you can see them. Would tha be okay?”

“I, uhm.. I guess..?” Mika sighed slightly, “I.. I’m just overwhelmed. I still have to get used to this, it’s-.. it’s a lot.”

“I understand, that’s why we’re here to help you, that’s why I came along with you.”

They stood on the stage together some longer, before it was time to let the audience into the venue. Mika’s fear was through the roof, and Yasmine tried to relax him by doing breathing exercises and helping him warm his voice. It worked a bit, and when Mika set foot on stage he wasn’t even that surprised by all the people and the lights. The music was a bit much, yes, but not too much, since he also got to let out his emotions through singing. Because of the bright lights, he couldn’t even see the audience that well, so that wasn’t a problem. He sang well, he only messed up the lyrics in one of the last songs. It bothered him so much, that after the concert, Yasmine found him in his dressing rooms, crying.

“You did great, Meeks! The whole audience loved you! Also, I saw that…” She paused in her sentence as he turned around and she spotted the tears on his cheeks. “Oh, dear.. Are you okay?”

He shook his head. No, he wasn’t okay. Everything from the concert – all the sensory input – was now pouring out of him. He’d reached his limit after messing up the lyrics, the feeling that he was bad ta this and that he should just stop with this all had consumed him. Obviously, he didn’t let it show. He was a performer, after all. He now just needed time to self-regulate.

That was exactly what Yasmine gave him, she helped him calm down and ground himself, then they went home as fast as they could, where Paloma was also waiting on them, excited to hear how the concert went. When she sensed he was overwhelmed, however, she didn’t ask any questions, she just put on his favourite TV show and stayed with him all evening. His older sisters did everything they could to help him, and he appreciated them for it.

“You know…” Mika spoke up after a while of staring at the black TV screen – they weren’t allowed to watch any more TV since Zuleika had to sleep. “It actually didn’t go that bad, I just… I felt like I fucked up my whole career by forgetting the lyrics.”

“That’s the spirit,” Paloma said with a grin on her face, “I’m sure you did great either way.”

“I think so too.” Yasmine joined the conversation, smiling gently.

“Maybe next time I can agree with you two.” He sighed softly, “We’ll see…”

Chapter Text

August 2007…

Mika’s career had lifted off fast. Too fast for his liking. Sure, he adored every single one of his fans – his respectful fans – and the money was nice. He just wished he’d be able to have a bit of private life. Gossip and rumors spread about him and his family everywhere, he was slowly getting sick of it. Too much was happening, he had to do too many interviews, people expected way too much from him, a person who had sensory processing issues. Performing was still a hell to him, how was he expected to do anything after the performance?

Apparently, he was expected to do an interview on a talk show. That was what he was doing right now, at least. So far the interview was acceptable, it had just been questions about his music, his career and the album. Questions he could answer truthfully, without any problems or annoyance. It was quite nice, the interviewer was being respectful – he’d had other experiences.

 “Now, Mika,” The interviewer – he didn’t know for sure if his name was Hans, he may or may not have forgotten his name when he’d introduced himself – asked, “Can you tell us a bit more about Billy Brown?”

“What do you want to know?” He asked back, making the audience laugh. He smirked at the camera, keeping up the appearance of the annoying rock star teen – in reality he was trying really hard not to break down: the sounds were too much, the lights were too bright and all the people analyzing his every move didn’t help either.

The interviewer – he decided to just call him Hans in his head – visibly shook his head at that, but tried to chuckle with the audience. “Ha, that’s a good one,” Sarcasm was dripping off of his tone, even Mika could sense that through his brain which refused to tell tones often, “I just want to know, and I’m sure many agree with me: why is he gay?”

Mika could barely believe his ears. He couldn’t place whether or not this was homophobia or genuine interest in the way he wrote his songs, but he suspected the first, also because of some offended faces in the audience. He tried to not let his surprise – offence – show, and answered the question as truthfully as he could without getting angry at the entire world and ruining his career.

“Homosexuality is something that I find has to be normalized in this world. Too many people still judge others for who they love. It’s not like you can’t become successful when you like the same sex, or both, or none. Really, people are just people, and we shouldn’t hate them for who they love, because that’s a beautiful thing. I wanted to make this song to show my support. Because I will always be there for those who are left out, who need support, who get thrown under by the stupid norms of society.”

He could hear a few people in the audience booing him, he simply didn’t care. Everything was a blur to him – he was dissociated because of past experiences and because of the sensory input that was slowly becoming too much for him to handle. Thank god the interview was wrapped up quickly, he didn’t want to spend one more second in the horror of this studio.

Even when he was finally home – he’d driven himself home but barely remembered anything of it – the comment still spooked around his head. Why is he gay? It hurt him. The comment hurt him, he didn’t know why, but it did. He’d written that song for his first real crush – Billy from his elementary school. His mother had yelled at him several times when he brought it up to her, yet his sisters had protected him back then, telling him it was a natural thing but that Mummy was being annoying. To put it very lightly. He knew she didn’t fully support him, and that hurt. Actually, everything hurt.

A call on his phone tore him out of his thoughts. His sister Paloma was calling him – he suspected she’d seen the interview and thought he was home now. He really appreciated her.

“You’re speaking with Mika,” He said as he picked up the phone, smiling when he heard his sister’s voice on the other side of the line.

“Yes, hi, Mika, you’re speaking with Paloma.” She sounded worried, and Mika could understand why. The last time he’d faced anything like this, it didn’t end well at all. She had to pick him up from a bar, he’d drunk his sadness away. “I saw the interview, I’m so sorry. That interviewer was a homophobic asshole. Are you somewhat okay now? I thought I saw you dissociating…”

He nodded, then realized she couldn’t see him through the phone network. “Yeah,” He said instead, “I did. And he really was. I’m not okay, I’m incredibly angry. Not even at myself, just at the world. Why are people like this? Why do they hate on other people, just because they love differently? I really don’t get it. I just… I don’t.”

Paloma sighed, “I know, and I’m sorry. I also don’t get why people are like this.” She sounded just as angry and clueless as he was, which was comforting in a way. It showed that it wasn’t very weird to feel like this, that any normal human being could and should feel like this after something this offensive happened.

“I’m here for you, okay, Mikey? You’re a famous person now, and people will ask weird things. They’ll see you just as an idol, not as an actual human being of flesh and blood. And that will take some time to get used to. But please, stay true to yourself, don’t change how you act for the view of the public eye. You said it yourself, people who are thrown under by the bullshit laws of society are the ones who need help the most. And since you are neurodivergent and not straight, people will lash out at you for that. Don’t let that turn into self-hatred, it will ruin your sense of self. Understood?”

Mika listened to her comforting words and let out a small chuckle at Paloma’s ‘protective-sister-mode’ being activated. She could always make him feel better with her intelligent, soothing voice.

“Yeah,” He said, “Understood…”

Chapter Text

10^th of October 2010…

His sister was dead. That was the thought that kept spooking through his head. His sister was dead and it was all his fault. He should’ve been there for her earlier. If only he’d stayed on the phone with her instead of having gone to sleep, he could’ve been there when it happened. She wouldn’t have been kept awake by a neighbour. He could’ve – should’ve – been there for her.

Technically, it wasn’t certain if she was dead. The doctors had prepared them for the worst, yet Mika had taken that as literal. Thinking of it made him shudder again, even though it was already twelve hours after the incident. They were still doing surgery on her, the siblings were forced to go home since only one person was allowed to stay in the hospital – that person being their mother. They all stayed in their old home together. They were in Paloma’s room, to try and  get a sense of comfort. The four of them stayed close to each other, but for some reason, it didn’t help Mika’s brain. He’d seen her on the railings, he’d seen her as she was moved into the helicopter. It was a vision he’d never forget, it was one of the scariest things he’d ever seen.

Yasmine, always the most mature of them all, like a second mother for them, sensed Mika’s extreme distress. Of course, she wasn’t doing well herself either, but she knew her younger brother experienced this the most intensely. She put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, unsure if he would be comfortable with a hug. The question answered itself when he embraced her tightly. Small, pained sobs came from his as he cried in Yasmine’s arms, who was also quite emotional herself. He felt like a small child – honestly, he wanted to be a small child again, even though he was 27 years old. He just wanted the family to be complete. He wanted the three of his sisters to be alright. He needed Paloma to stay with them, but he knew it was uncertain.

“I’m sorry, Meeks…” She whispered in his ear, slowly rocking him back and forth in her arms.

“You couldn’t do anything about it…” Mika said, leaning heavily on her, trying to process the memories and the feelings. It was all too much. “I saw her, Yasmine. I saw her lying there. I saw her and I was frozen in place, I couldn’t do anything. I could just stare.” He was silent for a while, swallowing hard. His voice sounded strained when he continued, like his body was forcing him to. “She looked dead. She looked like she’d already left us. And I couldn’t do anything. I just stood there and looked at the paramedics. If I did something, she’d still be here with us, still…”

“Stop that.” Fortuné’s broken voice sounded from the other side of the room. He and Zuleika were holding each other, although they seemed numb, unable to face their emotions. “Mika, seriously. Stop doubting and hurting my brother. Stop doubting the amazing man he is. Also, Paloma isn’t dead. You know she isn’t.”

“But the doctor said that…-”

“The doctor said it was uncertain. So she was still alive, then. They would call us if she’d die. And we haven’t been called yet, have we?” When Mika shook his head, the youngest brother nodded to himself. “So, she’s still alive. You should know that. Please, if you say that she’s no longer with us anymore, you also hurt us. To me, it feels like you don’t believe in us, nor her, nor the doctors. So please, don’t say that she’s gone.”

Mika nodded, realizing that his brother was right. He was seven years younger than him, yet his younger brother felt more like an adult than him in that moment. He hid his face in Yasmine’s neck in shame. He didn’t want to be alive in a world where it was possible his sister would be dead. He didn’t want to live right now. He knew he had to stay alive if perhaps they’d be able to go visit her, but.. the urge to jump out of a window and to just give up was stronger than ever. Fuck his career, fuck music, fuck his family, if Paloma was dead, he’d join her. At the same time, he wanted to stay to protect his siblings, he wanted to be the strong one.

Despite his thoughts and his wish to stay awake to watch over his siblings, he felt exhaustion take the better of him. He was still lying in Yasmine’s arms, but now Fortuné and Zuleika had joined them, so he was holding his younger siblings as well. It was incredibly nice, the closeness, despite the circumstances they were in. the comfort he got from the only people in the world who understood him was enough to make him feel safe enough to fall asleep.

However, his rest didn’t last long. Soon, after only a few hours of rest, they were all woken by the piercing sound of Yasmine’s ringtone. That meant that… Mika looked up in tired worry as their oldest sister picked up her phone. Zuleika had her face hidden in her pillow, her shoulders were shaking in anxiety. Fortuné held her, worry clearly written all over his face.

Yasmine nodded when the person on the other side of the line had presumable asked something. “Yeah, with Yasmine Penniman. Yes, hello.” A short silence. “We’re at home, yes, why?” Her face lit up – Mika couldn’t tell if it was from sadness, worry or delight, so he had to hold back a soft, scared sob. “Oh dear,” Yasmine continued, a frown on her face, “we’ll be there as fast as possible.” When she hang up, she walked over to the door as quickly as possible. “To the car, now!”

The four of them stumbled down the stairs as fast as they could. They didn’t know what exactly she’d been told, but they knew they had to hurry, so that’s what they did. Only once they were in the car, Yasmine started to explain what she was told. “Basically, her surgery is finished, and she has woken up by now. She’s.. She’s alive. She’s alive and stable, but still in quite a critical condition. However, she’s… She’s here, we’re going to visit her now.”

It turned out that only three people were allowed to go into her room at the same time, which meant that they could either go in groups of two, or one of them had to go in alone. Mika honestly didn’t mind going in alone, so that was how they did it. First Mika would go in, alone, and then the other three would go after him. He only needed a short visit – a long one would be overwhelming, he’d feel too guilty.

That was how he was now standing in front of the white hospital door, a doctor at his side as he entered the room. He almost started crying on the spot when he saw her – she looked beaten up, tired, broken, but she was there. Her eyes were open and she grimaced when she saw her little brother standing in the door opening, scared to move closer to her. Only when the doctor reassured him it was safe to do so, he took a step forward and sat down on the chair next to her bed. She didn’t say anything, just looked at him with the most loving gaze.

“I.. I missed you…” He managed to croak out before he broke down completely. She took her hand in his – he was able to see how that hurt her, moving anything – and squeezed it softly. He brought her hand up to his face and pressed a kiss to it, a sign of affection, of love. He would never be able to live without her, they both knew that.

They sat together, enjoying the presence, until his time to be in the room was over. Before he left, Paloma whispered something to him.

“I love you, Meeks…”

Chapter Text

July 2015…

Mika knew his relationship with Andy was long from healthy. He shouldn’t stay in a relationship where his partner didn’t understand him, yet he couldn’t possibly blame him. He didn’t even understand himself, of all people. Still – Andy wasn’t good for him; he forced him to make eye contact, to do certain activities that’d ‘make his anxiety less’. Such as now, he was in a gay bar because Andy wanted to take him clubbing.

Perhaps he’d drank a little too much, the world was spinning and he was questioning whether or not he was correct in existing on a planet called earth. He honestly didn’t know where his boyfriend left him, he was unfamiliar with this place. Eventually, he found a chair he could sit on. It was next to another person – normally, he’d be way too anxious to even attempt to sit next to strangers, but he was currently in a state of ‘I really couldn’t give two fucks’ and his whole body felt strangely heavy, so he sat down. The man turned to look at him and raised an eyebrow, as if he was amused by the whole situation.

“Are you sure you drank enough?”

Mika shrugged, not being sure if the person was sarcastic or not. Actually, he wasn’t sure of anything right now. He didn’t even know if he was really himself, or if he was truly struggling with this all right now. Nothing made sense, everything was too much yet too little and he would jump from the roof if he could. As one could understand from this – he wasn’t doing really great. He felt lost and miserable in his relationship with Andy, he needed a way to distract himself which, at the moment, was alcohol.

“Dunno,” He slurred, “It’s better than normal.” He wasn’t even lying when he said that. Being alone, not constantly under the eyes of his lover – who he still loved, but who he was also getting quite sick of – was better than anything he’d experienced in a long time. He hoped it would be better soon, otherwise he couldn’t take this any longer.

The man nodded – probably to himself – and turned so that he was fully facing him. He had long, blonde hair and was wearing eyeliner, yet he looked masculine in his own personal way. He looked like he knew everything in the world – or Mika was just being too hopeful. “I’m Leo. I’m staying here with you now because you definitely drank too much and I don’t want you to do anything stupid.”

“M’kay, thanks,” Mika answered, not knowing what to say. “Uh, I’m Mika…”

Leo smiled a bit and nodded again, taking the glass he hadn’t realized he was holding from his hands. He was right, Mika realized, he really had drank enough. His vision was slightly blurred and his head hurt as if his skull could and would burst open any minute now. Leo chuckled at his face, and shook his head. “You know, you would be cute if it weren’t for you being so extremely drunk right now.”

Mika frowned. Did Leo just say he thought he was cute? He didn’t know for sure – he thought Leo looked okay. Not his type, really. Andy was his type, or he should be, according to all of his senses that weren’t his brain. Andy was his boyfriend. He realized he should probably say that to Leo, before he’d do anything weird or uncomfortable. The other didn’t seem like the type of person who’d do that, but still. “I-.. I have a boy…friend…” He stammered, and Leo raised his eyebrows again.

“He was the one you entered the bar with?” He asked, and when Mika nodded, he frowned a bit, confused – or that was what Mika thought he could read from his face, at least. He wasn’t sure when it came to telling tones, he wasn’t good at it. “Hm, I’m surprised he left you alone like this.”

Their conversation – which had been quite lovely so far – was interrupted by a man approaching him, coming up behind Mika and slithering an arm behind his back. All Mika could do was stare, he was frozen in place out of panic. He should’ve expected this to happen when Andy left him alone. He didn’t know how to act, the man smelled of weed and whiskey. “Hello, gorgeous, would you like to dance with me?”

Mika couldn’t answer – he spotted the man putting something in his drink, but he couldn’t do anything about it. He couldn’t answer, he couldn’t blink, he couldn’t back away. he hated himself for it, he had to do something, it was becoming dangerous right now, but he couldn’t.

Leo stood up from his chair and walked over to the man, slapping him on the back of his head. “Man, go away, he’s my boyfriend!” He said loudly, picking up Mika’s glass from the counter and throwing the drink in the man’s face.

Mika just watched it all, unable to do anything. He quietly hummed in distress, putting his hands over his ears, and closing his eyes, rocking back and forth. Leo put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, but when he squirmed away, he pulled back his hand with a quiet apology.

“Hey, are you okay?” He asked gently, and Mika shook his head violently, trying not to break down in the middle of the bar. “That’s okay,” Leo reassured him, “Would it help if I’d hug you?”

Mika nodded this time, smiling a bit as he put his arms around the other man. He’d long lost Andy in the crowd of people, all he knew was that it was sure he’d be angry once he’d come home. Leo’s presence was calming in a way. He had this weird kind of familiarity around him, Mika couldn’t wuite place what it was through the haze of alcohol.

All that happened afterwards was one huge blur to him. Leo had driven him home, he’d sat in the backseat because somehow he was more comfortable with that. He’d thanked Leo a thousand times, yet he wasn’t really 100% there with his head. He was too drunk and miserable to think about anything – especially if it was about what would happen tomorrow when Andy arrived home.

He hoped it would be alright, but he could only hope.