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Micheal hated Valentine's day. He thinks that he might have a fuzzy memory or two, early on, of sweets passed around in kindergarten classes and heartfelt but ultimately empty notes of affection. But, there were far more visions of disgust that echoed around his skull about the dreaded day. It nearly sickened him, how happy it seemed to make everyone, parading around with candied hearts and half-dead roses, woozy with the idea of love. It sickened him not because he was single, as his shitty friends liked to tease him about (he just wasn’t all that interested in the idea of a relationship), but because it was the one day their mother drank more than their father. The day she screamed her frustrations at the man, and got too handsy with the rest of them. The day he had to be the responsible older brother, taking his siblings out of the house to play at the park, and spend the little money he had gathered from various jobs he had done around the neighborhood (like mowing Mrs. Halvert’s unruly lawn) on ice cream. His siblings loved valentine’s day, since it was the one day a year that their big brother wasn’t toughening them up. Micheal may be bitter, but he’d be damned if his baby brother and sister had to hear the same vitriol spat from resentful spouses that he had grown up with. Wouldn’t let their mother’s hands wander on them, or let his father drag them around until they were black and blue. Wouldn’t let the smell of cheap whiskey or his father’s sour gin invade their senses until it clung to them for weeks.
He couldn’t even enjoy the sunny day, cerulean sky clear from overbearing clouds and lit up by the decently warm sun. The cool winter’s breeze- because they weren’t quite out of the water with the season, yet- made the day more than bearable, and yet, here he sat, slouched on an impossibly uncomfortable park bench watching his siblings scream in glee as they had the whole playground to themselves. (It was a monday, after all, but their parents had never much cared about their attendance rates. Micheal was practically a drop-out at this point.) He thought it a little depressing, for an asshole like him to be the only solid authority figure in his siblings’ lives. But, he thinks, seeing their bright smiles every fourteenth of February, and the expectant way they’d tug on his shirt the day before, making him promise to play with them this year (Or, in Elizabeth’s case, get her more than a small vanilla cone after their day of fun was had) was worth it. Hell, it was nearly enough for a smile.
Mother had seemed particularly downtrodden that morning, though, already wasted before nine. It was… concerning, if only because it broke the well-established pattern. He figures that they’d be at it later than six in the evening, too, which put a wrench in his schedule. His siblings needed to eat dinner by seven and be in bed by ten, after all. Even on every other day Micheal was responsible for that, and knew the consequences of it not being followed well. (Evan would inevitably work himself into a cry so hard he’d puke, and Lizzy would be particularly uncooperative, which was saying something considering the brat didn’t listen anyway.) But maybe, just maybe, he could drop them off at Uncle Henry’s for the evening. Charlie had been trying to convince Micheal to have a sleepover (as if he’d ever stoop to anything so girlish) for ages now, and he’s sure their Godfather wouldn’t mind. He never seemed to. At this rate, Micheal’s half convinced that he could kill someone in cold blood and the man would still greet him with open arms and a warm grin.
“Mikey!” Lizzy giggled, practically charging she was running so fast, colliding into his chest with an oof. “Ev and I wanna play tag!”
“Then why don’t ya? He raised a brow, untangling the koala hold she had on him and setting her on the ground in front of him. “There’s plenty of room to run out here.”
“But it’s not as fun with only two people!” She whined, and Micheal did his best not to to wince as the tone grated on his ears. “Play with us!” She demanded.
“Ice cream or tag?” He sighed. He really didn’t have the energy to play tag, if he were honest. He hadn’t slept more than maybe an hour the night before, and they didn’t have enough cereal left in the box for three bowls of it that morning. Of course, it wasn’t like he was going to take away their ice cream (he always got it for them, after all), but he knew that Liz would choose it over playing tag with him. Maybe it was manipulation, but Micheal was… tired.
"Meanie," the girl huffed, ginger pigtails bouncing as she stomped her foot in frustration before running off, back to Evan. He just sighed, placing a hand over his left side- where his ribs had been bruised the night before by their particularly enraged father- as he shifted with a wince. Elizabeth had jostled the injury, and it stung like a Motherfucker. (It certainly wasn't the worst he had received- not even the worst he'd done to himself- but it was fresh and therefore still tender. He could practically feel the bastard's dress shoe- which was stupidly pointy- digging into the space between his ribs, all these hours later. He should've been a little quicker with the dishes, he supposed.)
He leaned his head over the back of the bench, shutting his eyes and merely basking in the feeling of the sun's warm rays beating down on his tanned, freckled skin. He supposed that it was a rather nice day, circumstances aside. And, with the only joyous screams coming from Liz and Evan, no other children in sight, the park was almost bearable for once.
"Micheal?" Evan's hesitant voice reached his ears, and he shot up with a start, not realizing that he had drifted off in the sun's glow. The sun was dipping toward the horizon now, and he placed the time at around three-thirty.
"Sorry, bud," he yawned, rubbing at his eyes with a fist. "Didn't mean to fall asleep on ya. You guys-" another yawn, "-you guys ready to go?"
"Yeah," Evan practically squeaked. "Liz says- Liz says she wants Sir Teddi- Tedding- her bear, though."
"She should've brought it, then," he grumbled, ruffling the boy's hair as he stood, earning a deserved pout. Evan just clutched his prized Fredbear plush closer to his chest.
He scanned the playground for the vibrant redhead, but he couldn't see her.
"Evan?"
"Y-yeah?"
"Where's Lizzy?" There was a pause.
"She said she wanted Sir Teddi- Ted- her bear."
Micheal stared ahead for a moment in dead silence, almost unwilling to process the information given to him.
"Motherfucker!" He roared, suddenly itching for something to throw and shatter on the pavement below.
"Mi-Mikey?"
"We've gotta go," he hissed in response, scooping Evan into his arms, not even bothering with trying to get the five-year-old to run at his pace. It made his ribs twinge, but it was negligible with the adrenaline pumping through his veins. The worst situations were running through his mind. Their mother's hands splayed over Elizabeth's back. Their father sneering down at her as his slender hands painted bruises wherever they touched. Tears trailing down her cheeks, and the scent of cheap whiskey with broken glass permeating her hair, blood dripping down her forehead from the impact.
He was back at the house in record time, Elizabeth just reaching for the doorknob.
"Stop!" He shouted, nearly falling over as his shoe got caught in a split in the pavement. He righted himself quickly, stumbling over to the girl who had, thankfully, stopped in her tracks. He set Evan down as he kneeled in front of her, placing his (trembling) hands on her shoulders.
He took a deep breath, if only to remove the shake he knew would be there in his voice if he didn't.
"I'll- I'll go get Sir Teddington, okay? Just- wait out here with Ev. Please?" He's sure he sounded desperate, but he was too frazzled to care quite that much.
"Why can't I go get him?" Elizabeth pouted, stomping a foot on the ground- petulant as all young children were bound to be when they didn't get their way.
"Just- because, okay? Just- trust me or something, I dunno." How was he supposed to explain why he kept them away every Valentine's day? He couldn't tell them. He kept them away so that they wouldn't have to know - in any capacity.
The skrishhh of glass and the muffled sound of his father's enraged bellowing followed his statement, and Micheal winced.
"Are they okay?" Evan panicked, stepping toward the door. As if a five year old would be able to help anybody. Elizabeth, however, seemed a little more crestfallen- a little more understanding.
"Why are mommy and daddy fighting?"
Micheal… Micheal didn't know how to answer her. Not even he had an absolute answer to that. That would require knowing why their parents were such shit people.
"It's just the way things are, Liz."
"...Sir Teddington will be fine on his own, right?"
"Perfectly," he assured, not even complaining when Evan wormed his way into his arms, his tears now soaking his shirt. Liz held her hand out, and Micheal placed his own in it.
"We good to go get ice cream, Liz?" He did his best to smile. (It felt foreign and a tad disheartening, but he would rather not have the gloss that lined the girl's eyes trail down her rosy cheeks, too.) "We'll stay with Uncle Henry tonight, okay?"
"Okay," Elizabeth murmured, emerald gaze a little more steely than it had been- a little more bitter.
With a nod, Micheal began the trek back down the path to their front door, Lizzy's hand in his own and a sniffling Evan held in his other arm.
Later, Henry would welcome them with open arms and a knowing glint in his eye- one that reeked of a sour kind of despair. Charlie would tell him 'I told you so! You'd sleep over eventually!', and he'd put his siblings to bed with an uncharacteristic kiss to their foreheads- just for today. Afterward, he'd return to being their douchebag older brother, always taking the forefront of their father's anger.
For now, though, he relished in the fact that his little siblings were unharmed, if shaken up. They had ice cream waiting for them.