Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sleeping was never really Mike's favorite pastime. Of course it wasn't, not when he was practically haunted by his inability to get a proper night's rest; twisting and turning, sweating and fighting to fall back asleep after finding himself already sitting upright in his bed, legs tangled in his sheets and loud shuffling through the walls of the manor at the obscene hours of the night never helped for a second.

He's also continued to ignore the comments from survivors who stayed in the rooms closest to his own- because he's never actually recalled screaming or anything of the sort in the middle of the night. Maybe, yes, the times they claimed he would was similar to that when he would find himself able to focus on the digital clock on his nightstand, but that still didn't give him the proof to be self-concerned.

It was, fortunately, a relatively tame night for Mike. He wasn't as hyperaware of his environment as he usually was as he was in a mix between unconsciousness and consciousness,  but all he could really feel was fingers lacing with his own. A hand holding his. What? In all his nights at the manor, living with whatever the fuck his sleeping issues were- he's never once had something like that happen. He wasn't even sure if his eyes were open, but when his head turned down to his hand (which was shaking in his lap, since he had apparently been sitting up again) there had certainly been a shadow of a hand over his. 

He's never been more uncomfortable or scared- and it showed in the way his hand flew to the side in attempt to swat the hand away. It wasn't something he actually wanted to do. Easily one of the most conflicting moments he's had in his commonly indecisive mind, but as scared as he was, there was a level of comfort to the touch that he was not used to. Mike certainly did wish to relish in it for a little longer, but his innermost wish in the moment had fallen to the actions of his body; hands still swinging wildly to knock the hand off his, until a sharp pain resonated from his wrist. 

At that point, he had blinked tears out of his unfocused eyes as his mouth hung open in a silent cry. His head was pounding, and his hand equally in pain, wrist specifically. There was absolutely nothing that could be compared to the throbbing of the joint, the pain making the hunters' attacks feel like a breeze. Usually he wouldn't joke about the hunters' abilities to inflict hurt on others, but that wasn't a joke. 

"Fuck..." his face morphed into a cringe at the sensation, ignoring to his best ability the headache he had as he awkwardly kicked his blanket away. All that he could think about was to go to Emily and maybe see if she could've given him an ice pack or something because Mike could've seen the swelling already happening. Lucky for all concerned, he could still move his hand- it was just uncomfortable.

Once he slowly stood from his bed, he pushed his feet into his slippers and with his non-injured hand, he pat down his bed hair as best possible before pressing the other hand securely to his chest. Now that he was required to open doors and make way for himself to actually get to the doctor, Mike was ridding himself of something of a shield for his wrist.

Not that he planned to be careless with it anymore, anyway.

The walk to the infirmary in hopes that the doctor would be there was embarrassingly long. Every step he took in the hallway echoed loudly, much like the pulsating from his hand that felt as if his blood cells were having a rave party inside without inviting him. He fought a yawn after some seconds on his way, not remembering what the time was- if he even checked at all, he wasn't sure.

The only good part about it was no other survivor seemed to have come out of their dorm or, more specifically, the dorms that he was in the vicinity of as he neared the infirmary. He did certainly hear some doors open behind him, but he was too far along to look back. There was no point in doing so, because he would've much preferred to not have the others worry about him or seem like he wouldn't be as capable of performing in matches as before.

It didn't take any time at all for the man to reach inside the infirmary, and luckily for him, the doctor was indeed inside the room. With her back facing him, she was organizing trays of equipment, more than likely to be prepared to attend to injured survivors after any match later in the day. He remained silent as he watched her move, contemplating asking her to properly look at his hand and give him some proper advice or just asking for an ice pack- though he just hesitantly did the latter.

"Miss Emily!" He called, a little louder than he wanted to. The woman's head turned quickly over her shoulder, before her face relaxed into a polite smile. "Good morning, Mike. It's a little early seeing your face," She replied with a level of playfulness, before returning her attention to sorting the medical equipment before her.

"Yeah, you're right. No major reason though, honestly, I just came to ask for an ice pack?"

The doctor nodded absently, stepping away from the instrument stand and moving to the small chiller to the side where a few ice packs were. They weren't used as often as other items, but it was still necessary to have as the baron instructed- first aid was just as important as more complex assistance, either way.

As she took out one of the packs and walked toward the acrobat with his desired item, while stretching an arm to give it to him, a frown pinched her cheeks. "What happened? Why are you suddenly asking for an ice pack, Mike?" She asked, evidently more alert than before. The blonde didn't have time to reply, because a soft gasp followed Emily's words once she noticed the condition of the other's wrist. "What happened?" She repeated, voice straining as she tried to suppress the amount of shock in her words.

The other was surely confused by her reaction considering it didn't feel any worse than earlier, but it slipped his mind that the main reason he wanted to ice it was so he could avoid any kind of swelling. As he pulled his arm away from his chest to properly look at it, it was obscenely red and swollen. Of course. He didn't let his eyes linger on it for long, because it only made him become aware of the intense pulsating he managed to ignore until then, and looked back at Emily with a sheepish smile. He took the pack from her outstretched hand quickly and pressed it against his wrist, biting down his tongue to stop himself from cursing at the pressure and temperature.

"I just hit it, that's all," Mike tried to be as nonchalant about it as possible, shrugging his shoulders. "Plus, I don't have a match until way later in the evening. I'll be fine by then!"

He thought he sounded convincing enough, but the lady was not swayed. "There's no way you're going into a match with your wrist looking like that!" She exclaimed sternly, nearing him with her hands splayed- a silent request for her to check on his own. Mike had acknowledged that, and he was truly grateful that the woman even bothered to care for him (despite knowing it's in her nature as a doctor) but he dismissively shook his head. "It's fine, Miss Emily, I swear. I promise that I won't use it too much or anything until it actually gets better. I'll even come to you if it gets worse."

She, again, wasn't very convinced, but she chose to trust in him. "I will write a letter to the Baron so you'll be dismissed from any matches for the next week. I do believe that you won't strain your wrist, but without it you won't be able to perform to your best ability in matches." She explained while taking a small notepad out of her satchel and a pen, tucked behind her ear which Mike hadn't noticed before she retrieved it. The latter sighed, knowing there was no point in further discussing with the woman.

He pressed the ice pack down onto his wrist again to give himself a reminder that she was doing it for him, and not because she didn't want him in matches. He was the injured one  and it would only do him better if he could heal as quickly as possible. "Thanks, I guess..." He mumbled, flashing the doctor a brief smile before pouting in defeat. He wondered if it was his fault- maybe if he had gotten out of his bed faster and made it before his wrist looked like someone drove over it with a car, she wouldn't have noticed and he would've been able to play that evening.


No more words were shared as Mike left the infirmary.

-

Mike had managed to shower and get dressed into his usual jumpsuit without too much discomfort, but to put on his ruffled cuffs a problem. Over his right hand, it went on as usual. However, his left hand was a major issue. After all the time that had passed, the swelling didn't get much worse, but the colour of his skin had darkened and the bruise wasn't pretty. He contemplated not wearing the cuff at all, but he didn't want to raise suspicion for missing a somewhat vital part of his getup. He considered wearing Bohea, but he would've felt out of place. It was pretty, sure, but it wasn't fitting for the spring season they were in. There was also his tennis outfit that was given to him by the Baron for the special event they held during a summer, but the glove that would've properly covered the injury was meant to be worn on his dominant hand. 

Obviously, this was not the acrobat's day.

He didn't bother thinking too hard about it and absently pulled the cuff on as laxly as usual, somewhat ignoring the reason why he didn't do so earlier and inevitably. A curse had slipped from his lips as he awkwardly recoiled at the feeling of the elastic pushing so tightly against his wrist, but he gulped down the lump in his throat and glared at himself in a mirror. It was his own fault for reacting so harshly, he constantly blamed himself, despite knowing how little control he had when he wasn't fully conscious. After patting down his curls to look just a little more tame than before, he couldn't help but frown at his reflection. 

He wasn't sure why, but he did it anyway. Mike was never unhappy about himself physically and he always liked the way he built his personality- but in times like this, when he would have caused something bad for himself, there was no stopping him from instantly depreciating himself. At least this time, it was a completely new situation; He's never hallucinated like that before. 

He glanced down at his injured hand, slowly flexing his fingers into a fist. That shadowy hand that held his as if they were meant to be intertwined with each other... as he processed the quickly receding memory of the feeling, it hadn't crossed his mind how real it felt. It wasn't warm like an actual human's hand would be, but it wasn't cold- it was mediocre, at best. The hand was girthier than his, which wasn't much of a surprise to him considering how skinny he was in general, save for the muscle he's toned over the years of exercising and practicing physical activity. 

His hand unfurled, and the action helped his eyes refocus on the skin of his palm. As if to help him ground further, the blonde's stomach cried a noise that made him chuckle. It was starting to get late, and remembering that he wasn't in the comfort of his own home (and rather lived in a manor full of many other men and women who were surely just as hungry as he was), he managed to drive himself out of his room and toward the dining area where breakfast was usually served. 

Much like earlier, on the way to the staircase there were no other person who he bumped into, limiting the amount of socializing he had to do before sitting at the table. Which was good, of course. He was friendly, yes, but all of his actual friends were ironically on higher floors rather than his own. He was unfortunate enough to share the same floor as the psychologist and the patient, to begin with more unpleasant examples. There was Murro, a man who Mike wouldn't choose to interact with unless absolutely necessary. There was the perfumer, too, but Vera wasn't his favourite company. She was too pretentious for his liking. He also had to put up with the lawyer who, for whatever reason, did not have a room on the same floor as the others who was earliest to arrive in the manor. Hearing that man complain about any little noise was positively the most horrid thing anybody could live through, but conveniently, their rooms were the furthest apart, so whatever screams that Mike screamt according to Murro and Vera weren't heard by the tax invader.

Though in his head for most of the walk to the dining room, he did make it without any inconvenience. He still kept his arm pressed to his chest for a sense of safety, but with his functional hand he waved and greeted the survivors he first faced.

"Morning, Mike," Naib gave a quick salute to his friend who turned to look at him from his seat. Just looking into the plate in front of him made the acrobat's stomach turn impatiently, but he fought the urge to run to get himself some servings of the simple scrambled eggs and toast. Next to him sat the quiet prospector himself, just barely glancing at Mike before mumbling a greeting as well.

Right. The last person on his floor was this very man, in all his broody glory.

He gave a smile, the friendliest he could've mustered, while reaching out to pat the mercenary's head. His usually hooded hair was exposed, so who was Mike to deny the opportunity? He chuckled as the man let out an embarrassed noise, using a clean hand to swat his attacker's hand away. His smile went tight-lipped at the prospect of Naib hitting his injured hand (despite it not being close to the male), but he didn't make it very obvious that he was suddenly bothered by something, however remaining oblivious to the narrowing eyes of the raven next to him. "Hey, Naib!" He replied, before turning his head to Norton. "Morning to you, too, Mister Campbell."

The man cocked an eyebrow at the formality. "You don't need to call me that, you know." Mike only winked at him, smiling when he saw the scarred face curl with something akin to surprise. 

Naib looked at both of his friends in confusion, before huffing through his nose. "Can the two of you stop being so awkward? God, it hurts to see," he said, rolling his eyes before pushing a piece of bread into his mouth. The other men stayed in silence, glancing at each other before looking away again. Norton said nothing, as usual, so the acrobat took it upon himself to make somewhat of a joke of the situation. "What do you mean? We're nothing close to being awkward!" He leaned his arm against Norton's chair and brought their faces close together, while keeping a decent amount of distance because they really weren't that close as friends. The prospector didn't seem too shocked by the action, though.

He gently pushed Mike away from his chair, chuckling dryly as he didn't really want to be in such close proximity with the blonde. "Anyway," he began, and the former male realized that was his first time independently speaking. "Mike, I just heard your stomach growl. You should go get something to eat before Tracy eats it out. She just went for thirds."

Mike's elbow was still on the backrest of the man's chair, so he took it upon himself to remove it- by grabbing his wrist and tugging the limb away.

Oh, fuck. Mike's eyes widened as his head snapped to the side, hopelessly staring intently at Norton as the man didn't think twice about what he was doing. Of course he wouldn't, it's not like he knew my wrist is fucked! He cried internally, feeling another buildup of saliva in his throat that he struggled to get down. It was only when Norton had weirdly placed his hand to his side, without loosening his grip or anything, he felt something.

The prospector looked up at Mike and frowned again, not liking the glossy hues of the other's eyes staring directly at him in warning. A warning he didn't have the time to pick up on, and it made him certain that there was a bump underneath the acrobat's covered hand. Before he could open his mouth, Mike folded his arms and plastered a disturbingly accurate mask of nothing happened and I'm totally not in pain on his face.

"Right, yes! Thank you, Mister Campbell, for, telling me. I will, certainly, get some breakfast now, goodbye." Mike breathed through a teethy smile, and it made almost Norton feel bad. Naib just thought that the acrobat was doing his usual silly acts, so he didn't bat an eye and waved the blonde a goodbye.

Watching him walk off and the way he awkwardly rubbed his wrist once he was far enough, it made Norton feel a lot worse than he thought. Him and Mike weren't ever the best of friends, considering they rarely got matched together, but the few times they would interact throughout the manor was merely greeting each other. He knew Mike was also good friends with his friends, but all of them could never be together at the same time because of the weirdly scheduled matches they had.

He didn't complain though, he genuinely couldn't have cared less. That's what he always thought, at least, but seeing the acrobat up close for so long like that made him realize that the generally carefree man was more than just carefree.


Mike Morton was such an interesting man, and Norton had the urge to discover more about him.

Chapter Text

He managed to get through breakfast. Now that he didn't have to worry about warming up for the match he had scheduled, Mike wasn't sure what to do. By the time he had finished eating and took enough time to let his food digest, ready to face the rest of the day, Naib and Eli had already been in a match. Emily was just as busy patching up a few others but even if nothing was wrong with him, he still would've offered to be the doctor's company.

He was sitting in a lounge, where many of the other survivors were with their own groups of friends. It was a little sad that he weren't close with any of them, so he didn't bother to try making a big greeting and falling into a conversation or something. He'd rather get cozy on the couch he sat on, alone, until he managed to see one of his actual friends.

A few people passed, giving him a little small talk and keeping him occupied for short amounts of time. Most of them went back to their rooms or had to get ready for a match. How lucky, Mike frowned. He wanted to go get ready for his match, too, but Emily Dyer had already made up her mind. She had a motherly attitude, especially toward him, and the teeny urge to ignore her request for him to rest his hand to occupy a hunter for as long as he could was eating his brain. He's always gotten good feedback about his kites.

He wanted to be dismissive about it, but the second he imagined that the woman would wait for him to return to the manor-  one way or another- to welcome him with a disappointed face that would really make him feel guilty.


Yeah. He would rather not have that happen.

"Mike, there you are!" A voice cut through the silence in his mind, and the man's eyes opened despite him not even realizing they were closed. He sat up and looked around until he spotted Luca running up to him. "Did you forget to meet me in my room? We still have to discuss..."

The prisoner's words slowly stopped, and Mike waved his right hand in front of the other's face. "Luca, what's up? You usually have a lot more to say before you zone out like that," He commented with a laugh, albeit still being confused. He watched as the brunette had glanced around, before simply motioning for him to be followed. Not that Mike cared, he was supposed to be with him as he said, so he stood from his seat and trailed his friend.


The acrobat had surely forgotten how plain his room was compared to other survivors. As he was welcomed into Luca's room, he was constantly marveled by the amount of props and trinkets littered around the space. He had two desks, one with piles of scrap paper and notes, and the other was more off to the side and occupied by circuits that Luca would usually use in games. By the time he let his focus fall on the other man, he was trapped under an unnerving stare. 

"What's up with your hand, Mike?" The prisoner's eyebrow cocked- the one over his bad eye. There was no way he could've known, so what the hell was this sudden question? The two of them were good friends, but that didn't mean that he wanted to be humbled considering Mike always thought that his masking skills were superb. As much as he said that about himself, he let his gaze fall to his own left hand. 

Oh, right, there wasn't any point in hiding it from Luca anyway. They had a match together that evening, so either way, him knowing about the injury was inevitable. Still, though, he was certain that Emily wouldn't have just told any and everyone, and he wasn't aware of anything he did that was obvious enough to show that something was wrong in the first place. He wasn't going to lie that he was impressed by the fact that the usually airheaded inventor managed to pick up on anything. 

He shrugged in mental defeat. "I hit it this morning, nothing major. Why'd you ask, though?" 

The reaction to the question was strange, as if everyone should have known the reason. "You kinda were holding your hand super close to your chest and, like, rubbing it," Luca explained, mimicking the action as he spoke. "Plus, I was sitting directly in front of Naib and Norton. I saw the way you reacted to Norton pulling your wrist."  

"And you didn't tell me hi? How rude." The blonde puffed out his cheeks, doing his best to dance around the fact that two people were fully aware of something being wrong with him. The last thing he wanted to do was explain that he panicked because of a hallucination, especially to Luca. The guy was nice, but sharing valuable information with him was a little bit hard sometimes. Everyone knew that he suffered through some stuff that fucked with his brain, his memory- so he would draw blanks at inconsistent times. Not a good factor if you ever want to have a heart to heart with buddy-o-pal Luca Balsa. 

Despite showing his amazing attentiveness, at the comment, the brunette's face fell into something like playful guilt. "I'm sorry," He pouted, dragging out the words. "I was torn between eating and listening to Tracy and I didn't want to cut her off, either."

Thank god, Mike sighed, before going along with the change of topic. "How sweet of you! You can ignore me all you want if you're gonna be listening to little miss Tracy's talk. The two of you are so cute together." He giggled, clapping his hands gently together before quickly hiding them behind his back. Until he left, there was no need for him to really use them. 

"Stop, stop!" The other blushed, shaking his head. "You know I don't like her like that, Mike, come on..." His reply was another laugh. Eventually, the two of them sat and their conversation flowed from talking about Tracy, the mechanic; who Mike loved wholeheartedly; to the primary reason they wanted to meet. For the obvious reason, it wouldn't have mattered anymore, because the acrobat had planned to discuss decoding tactics for their upcoming match. 

Again, he managed to avoid an in-depth conversation regarding his injury being the reason why he wasn't going to be present in the match. Great, right? Yeah, sure, but Mike had been rolling his left wrist a little too often and Luca had honestly been trying his best to ignore it since he's realized after a while that the acrobat didn't want to talk about it.

But the words came out of his mouth before he could stop himself. "Mikey, what really happened to your wrist?"

The suddenness of the question made the acrobat confused. He already gave a sufficient answer, didn't he? "Again? Luca, I hit it this morning." There was an evident hesitance in his voice, which only made his friend more insistent. 

"How exactly did you hit it, though?"

They were, at that point, intently staring at each other. Mike wasn't really the most excited to talk about, worse yet think about what had happened in fear of feeling it again. Holding hands with something from the abyss of the space of his recreated room in his head to greet him as he woke up was not pleasant, despite how the somewhat affectionate implications was very comforting. Regardless, he really didn't want to allow himself to think hard of it in fear of it, or something similar, happening again. At the same time, the urge to completely let it out of his system was there, and he did trust Luca aside from his usual absentmindedness. 

Whatever. 

Then he proceeded to explain as best possible hopefully without coming across as completely crazy to the brunette, nervous even while watching the understanding expression of his friend. When he concluded by talking about his visit to the infirmary and talking to the doctor, Luca replied saying something that, without a doubt, made him want to shit himself. "Hallucinations? Just go to the psychologist."

"NO!" Mike exclaimed, shaking his head and waving his arms in front of him in an almost comical manner. "No way am I going to go talk to that lady. She's too creepy." He continued, letting his head hang as he held his injured hand close to his chest like before, without much care now that Luca was fully aware of it. "Plus, haven't you seen the way she has Emil wrapped around her finger? It's so scary."

The brunet seemed to agree with the comment yet he shook his head hesitantly. "They're dating, aren't they? She wouldn't do anything weird."

"They're dating?"

He was having enough of this conversation. "Okay! Alright, I'll talk to her," he continued before Luca could talk again. "I'm certain that she will not help at all, though. I don't want to hear it!" He rushed out again while standing from the bed, keeping his face trained on his friend's. Once his back was facing the door, he stepped back cautiously, arms outstretched as if he were fending off a rabid animal. "I am totally going to look for her. Ask her for help. Even if she isn't going to help."

"...Okay, Mike." Luca mumbled, watching awkwardly as the acrobat winced from hitting the door handle against his backside, then he opened the door and slipped out of the room. And people say I'm the weirdest, he hummed to himself, rolling his shoulders to continue tinkering with some of his newer circuits.


-

He wasn't exactly lying to the prisoner when he said he would seek out Ada Mesmer, but it was a little hard since the woman was always in a match. Sometimes it made Mike jealous, but he wouldn't ever say that out loud- He's been in the manor for much longer than her, yet she's always scheduled for practically every match of the day when he has to beg to be in a match a week. He looked around the living area and the infirmary, but after being certain that she wasn't in any of those places, he was on his way to the kitchen. He did spend an hour or so with Luca, so it wasn't going to hurt getting a snack once he could make it back to his room right after. 

But of course, it was never going to go how the blonde wanted. As soon as he entered, he saw Norton rummaging through one of the fridges. He sighed and went into the pantry as quietly as possible, ignoring the creeping feeling that the back of his head was being watched. He didn't exactly believe it one hundred percent, but he still decided to trust himself. "You should take a picture, babe."

"It's a shame I don't have a camera on me," Norton smirked as he took some random soda from the fridge after literally doing nothing for the past few seconds to distract himself. He wanted to leave earlier but when he noticed that the acrobat was coming, he couldn't help but let himself get caught in an interaction- despite his preference of being alone. Even the little sly remark was surprising to himself since he wasn't usually so quick-witted. As much as it was out of his comfort, the laugh he received was enough to make him care a lot less. 

Mike turned after pulling down a small pack of cookies, nudging the pantry door close with his elbow while subtly struggling to open the snack. "Oh? Mister Campbell, you're much more slick than I thought you would be," he gave a light chuckle, eyebrow raising as he playfully glared at the taller man, who idly sipped from his bottle. "You don't know me, Mike, but don't let me tell you again to stop calling me Mister Campbell." 

"Anyway, Mister Campbell-" He laughed again when a bottle cap was chucked to his head with shocking accuracy, just barely dodging it before it touched him. "-whatcha up to?" 

"Nothing." The answer was chaste, but it wasn't a problem as it was expected from the prospector. The other didn't reply and instead pushed his finger in the small rip he made in the snack's package in an uninterested manner. It was his unspoken way of saying 'talk some more', but unfortunately it wasn't as clear as he intended- because they remained in silence for an embarrassingly long minute. They weren't even making eye contact, and they both didn't move; Norton wasn't drinking his soda and Mike wasn't eating his cookies. 

So... what now?

Norton had an unquenchable desire to ask Mike about his hand, considering the unintentional reaction he roused from the latter, but something else told him to shut up and ignore it. He was a little torn, glancing at the man as he swished the bottle in his hand but stopped instantly from the minute his eyes met Mike's mismatched ones. "Do... you have a match soon?" 

The raven shook his head and gripped the neck of the bottle. If he didn't leave soon, he would certainly blurt out his question in a desperate want to just know something about the fervent acrobat. "I'll just leave." He instead said, making bold steps closer to the other until they were uncomfortably close- only to reach behind him for the cap he threw not long earlier. As much as Mike had a sweet, caramelly scent to him, he still had enough hints of gunpowder from his bombs that almost made Norton freeze up. His gut was churning as he moved back, face now in a cringe as he awkwardly waved and made his way around the other hastily. 

Well, okay then. 

Mike's tongue poked the inside of his cheek as he tightened his hold on the pack of cookies, disappointed at most that he didn't get to squeeze some more fun little comments out from the usually introverted man. "Whatever, I'll be able to do that some other time." He turned his attention down to his empty left hand, flexing his fingers and rolling it lightly with no real intention behind the action, before blindly heading to his room.

Fortunately, he remained undisturbed for the rest of the day, considering he really didn't leave the comfort of his quarters. The minute he finished his cookies, he downed a few mouthfuls of tap water from his bathroom sink then took a nap, which resulted in constant twisting and turning for a painful hour. It wasn't surprising considering he wasn't tired in the first place, but still, he wanted to try. Lying awake ended up becoming his only escape, but it lost all effectiveness the minute he actually fell asleep. 

All he knew was that he was actually asleep, but when he woke up after sleeping for much longer than intended, the time didn't turn out to be his main concern. He was laying on the floor, splayed out on his back with his limbs stretched out in a star shape (that's what it felt like, since the minute he was fully conscious he had instantly moved to sit upright). The floor? There was no way he really rolled off his bed while napping in the middle of the day, since even during night he wouldn't usually wake up on the ground. 

At least, he's never recalled waking up on the ground. 

He picked himself up slowly and stretched, smiling twistedly at the loud cracks his back released. He continued to ignore his left hand's sudden spike of pain from the action as he went to wash his face in the bathroom. The only thing he could think about was to just go to the psychologist no matter how creepy she was, and see if she could've helped him; He didn't want her help, keep in mind- he's seen how the patient would leech off her like she was his lifeline, and the idea of himself turning into one of her followers made him shiver. After drying his face and reapplying some deodorant under his arms as best possible with his tight suit on (since he'd already showered that morning and he did nothing to get him considerably sweaty), and left his room in hopes of meeting the woman he most dreaded interacting with. 

Mike was only hoping that the woman was in her room, because it was only one door away from his. It was after lunch, too, because when he glanced at the clock in his room it was surely around one thirty, so it wouldn't be too far off to assume she would be there. He walked up to the door and knocked slowly, lips pursed with his hands behind his back as if he were just called to a principal's office in high school. 

The door opened, and he was instantly greeted with the neutral expression of Ada Mesmer herself- eyes dull and rounded by dark, running eyeliner and her hair was spilling around her face like she just woke up, but Mike knew that it was the woman's usual getup. He instantly flashed a grin, awkward as ever, but remained still to the ground. This isn't going to go well.

"Mister Morton," She monotonously greeted, not moving an inch to expose what was in her room in an unsettling way. They barely interacted for a full minute yet she seemed to already want to leave. "Miss Mesmer!" Mike forced out as cheerily as he could, teeth still clamped together in fear of his face morphing into a cringe while talking to the psychologist. "I had some concerns to... express, and I heard that you'd be the best person to tell!" 

She boredly stared at him for another few unsettling seconds, before opening the door wide enough for him to pass. The acrobat was glad to not have to be in the corridor any longer, but when his eyes darted around the room his heart climbed into his throat. Isn't that a hospital bed? What are they even called- Oh, my god, there is no way that isn't some kind of electrotherapy machine. I just know she's used that before, he gulped a lump forming in his throat, but it might as well have been his heart again because it sank to his stomach when he noticed the patient sitting quietly in a corner. 

"Oh." Mike squeaked out, nervous out of his mind by the eerie atmosphere of the room that felt much larger than his own- with the two weirdo lovebirds that looked and acted nothing of the sort. At least, not in public's eye. Which is good. Embarrassingly, he flinched when the door was shut, sounding much louder than it really was. He was certain that his hyperawareness had risen tenfold, which didn't help his nerves. 

Ada walked past him and motioned for him to follow, pulling out a chair from under a desk for Mike and then moved further away to sit on a bench. Emil remained in his corner, but the woman had turned to him and they seemed to have some kind of very, very quiet exchange before he moved to stand next to her. He nodded his head politely, and the blonde returned the act before humming lowly again. "Feel free to talk whenever you'd like."

Mike wasn't looking at her, but he knew she was addressing him. He swallowed again, then tried his hand at elaborating why he was even there in the first place. "Okay, so, I... I sleep." He mumbled out, holding back a mental laugh at how stupid he sounded. It made no sense for him to be that nervous, but there was also no right for the room to feel like it came straight out of White Sand Street Asylum. "I slept, right? That's normal, hah." He clapped his hands together lightly, moving them unconsciously to distract himself while also reminding him that his hand hadn't felt worse than it did. 

The psychologist remained unimpressed.

"...I had this... weird thing happen. When I was sleeping and it...?" 

Did she just check her watch? That's so- Mike was sick of this. Nothing even happened, and he couldn't even talk properly, for some reason. There was no point in this continuing. "You know what? It was probably just a dream. Bye!" He stood from the chair, much too quickly than his body could've handled, but he beelined straight for the door despite his vision going completely blank and his head blaring with pain. 

He didn't have time to look back at the two, and simply closed the door behind him as he left and let his weight fall onto it as he let his body adjust. "God fucking dammit to hell!" He groaned, throwing his head back to let it hit the door- the poor door- before turning to storm to his room again, slowing his pace when he met with Murro's face pale and struck with fear as he witnessed. "Oh, haha, thanks for watching! I was practicing anger for a play I'm gonna take part in." Mike gave another teethy grin, something he knew now that would happen more often, and ran into his room, passing the wilding and his boar that was just as stumped as its owner.

He slammed the door close and let out a deep breath. Mike had never been so socially drained- and he never wanted to experience it again. 

Chapter Text

Mike wasn't sure why he was standing inside the shipwreck from Lakeside which was being rocked by rough waters. Aside from waves crashing against the hull and the creaking of the masts as howling winds blew, it was silent. No signs of life anywhere in the boat and the basement which usually had a lineup of chairs was dark and empty. He was already walking up to the second floor of the ship, watching the shore of the village become smaller and smaller as more time went by. He walked to the other end of the ship, where only the view of the sea could greet him, and was surprised to see an oddly placed desk and chair there. 

It was the exact desk and chair from his room. The same engravings of stick figures and random pen markings he left remained, and it remained in the same area where Mike was sure a cipher would usually be in a normal match. It didn't matter, really, because he was already pulling the chair to sit and once he did, the a lamp appeared. Which was weird, obviously, because it was already bright out and it wouldn't have mattered, but he still pressed the switch for it. 

Then everything went black.

He was still there, he hadn't moved, but he couldn't see anything but black. He turned his head as much as he could, but there was nothing to see. He looked down at his lap and realized he was still in the sitting position from before, so in an attempt to mimic standing from a chair, he dragged his weight back and stood; then fell. 

How long did he fall for, he wasn't sure, and the fluid running of his surroundings- from black to gray into a muddy, brown colour- didn't help in the slightest. It wasn't until he stopped after slamming full force into his bed in his room and he choked out a disoriented cry from the velocity. His head fucking spun like crazy, and his sight was hazy to the point where it was hard to make out details aside from obvious light sources. 

Just as his eyes had properly focused, they shot toward his door, which was a victim to harsh knocking. He thought that there was truly no way for him to get up, but he was already moving despite just being slammed by whatever force onto his bed- but perhaps the amount of sleep still clouding his mind was affecting his logical thinking. He was already on his feet, swinging them off the comfort of his soft sheets and bare feet connecting unhesitantly with the cold of the floor. "I'm coming!"

He placed an open palm against the door that shook with the hits, using the other to open it with a face as restingly intimidating as possible, but behind the door was not a single person. He peeked out to be sure, looking down both sides of the hallway and frowned as there really wasn't a soul on the other side. Mike huffed, closing the door to return to his bed. He didn't bother looking at the time, too annoyed by the fact that he was living in a manor of matured people who had the audacity to disrupt his rest for fun. 

No, I can't be annoyed by that. He usually did it to other people, anyway. I'm annoyed because I was the victim. Nothing serious, of course, because he couldn't help the light chuckle that fell from his lips. He just plopped his weight back onto the bed absently, not considering how easily it mirrored being thrown (thrown, he knew, wasn't the right word to use, but he couldn't think to his fullest capacity). Light laughter spilled a little more until he was properly situated in his bed once again, happily able to stare at his bland ceiling as he did on his usual morning. 

The blonde was just about ready to get another sleep session down, no matter how short it may have been, when he felt his head being touched. Gently touched, soft caressing; like a person would if their friend's head was laying on their lap. It wasn't weird, actually. He relaxed into it, letting his eyes flutter closed until his face slowly twisted with an unsettling realization that there was nobody in his room. His eyes opened again, and a hand first moved to reach for whatever was touching him in hurried motion, as if it were hurting him. It wasn't. 

He turned his head up to look, and there was nothing but what his room usually looked like; empty. Save for the décor he managed to collect over time, obviously, but there usually was nobody but him in it, though when his eyes moved to his own hand was when his breath stuttered. In his, was another shadowy hand, but unlike before it was much more than just the hand. Mike was able to follow from the fingers that curled around his, up a forearm until there was nothing but the plain of his wall mid-bicep. Anything beyond that left a distorted version of the background. It was trippy, of course, when he looked from his bathroom door to the same area where the figure was meant to be disrupting it looked perfectly normal. He tried not to think hard about it.

Mike's head didn't move, keeping his eyes trained on the arm that was literally floating and holding his that provided more warmth than he felt in a while. He couldn't stress the thought enough that the hand was much larger than his, and there were weird, white lines that overlapped the black of the shadow in odd, undiscernible patterns. He tried to pull the arm closer to him in some attempt to look for more details, but it faded away too quickly for him to have reacted properly, resulting in his hand falling directly onto his face. 

"FUCK-" He opened his eyes in an instant, raising his extremely heavy left hand off his head with a pained expression. "What the fuck. God fucking shit." He had to bite his tongue to stop himself from cursing any more than he already did, far from enjoying the way his wrist was pulsing uncomfortably. He couldn't even process fully the fact that he was dreaming the last part, because he could've sworn he was in full control (or at least, semi-conscious) of his movements. 

He kept his hand to his chest, as if the pulse of his wrist would be neutralized by his heartbeat, and remained on his back. Thoughts running through his head at miles per second while he was doing his best to comprehend really what happened; there was no way he would allow himself to think that was a dream even though it felt so real- even the hand. The shadowy hand that had absolutely no logic to its existence aside from confusing Mike. Without a doubt it was a hallucination, but why did it feel so real? He couldn't even remember the last time he held hands with someone.

As he left himself to properly wake up with his skepticism at max, the pain in his hand had eventually eased up. After spending most of the previous day uneventfully in his room, without a match to attend to and no other survivor to properly discuss with, the acrobat really wasn't too sure what to do. He could prepare some more bombs, but the lack of matches he had in general as of recent was causing his bomb storage to max out. Just thinking about it made him antsy.

Soon enough, he got out of his bed and did his usual routine with a little more care for his left hand; the swelling was much less than it was the day before but the colour darkening significantly. When he was done showering, he wrapped his hair with an extra towel and put on underwear then stood awkwardly in front of his closet. He could have worn his jumpsuit again, but it wouldn't make sense since he wasn't going to be in any matches for a while, though he would've certainly felt out of place if he wore a casual t-shirt and pants among the other survivors. 

It also meant that he would need to give them an explanation.

They would've noticed he was around much more often than before, anyway, so what was the point of hiding it? Most of them wouldn't want every detail of what happened, so once he managed to hide it until it healed, nobody would pester him. At least he could rub it in their faces that he didn't have to go through all of the long matches for a while, but he was also at a disadvantage- he'd remain in the manor, alone and bored. It made him wonder how hunters feel when they're excluded from matches. 

His thoughts went on a tangent from then; Hunters had it rough. Maybe it was hard for the survivors to all escape, but it was even harder to have to be the only person to put up with said four survivors. Damn, what if some of those hunters cried? Mike wouldn't deny the fact that some matches made him sob like a baby when he did super bad, but to be the only person to blame when you're having a not-so-good day, that must be horrible. 

What was he really doing with himself? There was too little happening, so why was he thinking so much? Pointless thoughts, nonetheless. Hunters? They were the last people he needed to empathize with despite how easy it was for him in that moment. Spurring himself with somewhat depreciating and judgmental statements all toward himself, he only gave himself a break when he was fully dressed in a simple white t-shirt and comfortable shorts. Once in front of a mirror, his gaze remained on his bruised wrist which no longer hurt physically. Just hurt to look at. 

Hopefully Emily would do him a favour and wrap it up. At that point, Mike could've cared less what other survivors had to say. Thinking back about the fact that he was afraid of it before made him scoff, because who were they? Mike didn't need to let himself suit other people- and he never, ever will. He used his good hand to smoothen his hair again, before putting on some slippers then went out of his room and to the infirmary. Though, leaving the room only granted his first interaction with a floor-mate.

"You!" The perfumer exclaimed, accent heavy as she pointed at the blonde, who had no idea what he had done. Her face was at first neutral as she exited her own room and Mike barely managed to see it before it contorted into an ugly scowl. He had to remind himself that he did not care about what anybody had to tell him, and he was very solid with that statement, however keeping a straight face while watching her obnoxious shoulder pads limit her arm flailing. "What is your issue, so early on mornings?"

"Me? I didn't do anything." He replied, deadpanned. Vera always had a problem with every little thing that wasn't suitable for her taste, but really, what did he do to her? Her face had turned a hot red at his lackadaisical reply. "I've told you before, you clown, not to play your stupid games when people are sleeping! Slamming your door for what reason?" She seethed, arms folding in what looked to Mike like a relatively uncomfortable position. When she wasn't fuming like a prissy, spoilt lady, he would ask her to try on one of her shoulder pads. 

"You better start coming up with a new excuse, Morton, because 'I didn't do anything' or 'I don't remember' is certainly getting old." She rolled her eyes, holding up a single hand to shush the man before he could reply. "You do it countlessly, and it's getting sickening. I don't want to hear you shouting or slamming doors for the rest of the week, because I'll suggest to the baron that you want to sleep in the gardens." 

She turned away before he could remind her that the baron wasn't going to entertain her for a second, so he resorted to yelling to her retreating form, "Cry about it!"

Mike burst out laughing when she gasped loudly and swiveled on the spot with an offended look on her face.

-

Luckily for him, Emily was okay with wrapping his injury in gauze despite her warnings that it may be uncomfortable- which wasn't a lie. It did hurt like hell for a while, but nothing completely unbearable. When he was leaving the infirmary, breakfast had only just started, which was a big improvement in comparison to the day before when he almost didn't get to eat a full plate. On his way  toward the dining room, he managed to meet a few other survivors exiting their rooms which he greeted politely, ignoring their curious gazes at his attire and his hand, even more so.  

When he was walking down the staircase to the kitchen and dining area, someone fell into step with him. There was chatter from the area they were headed, otherwise it was completely silent for a little bit. 

"Morton," Norton regarded as they neared the last steps. Mike spared him a glance with a slight smile, before turning his gaze forward again. "Mister Campbell, good morning." He replied, letting go of the railing he was previously letting his hand glide along to stop when his feet finally hit the floor of the dining room. "Did our very eventful and interesting conversation yesterday have you wanting more?" All he got in return was a chuckle, before the raven veered himself directly into the kitchen.
 
What a good conversationalist, he said to himself, before looking around for someone to sit next to and occupy their time. He could see Luca intently staring at him from one corner of the long table, but he was surrounded by quietest selection of survivors and Mike wasn't particularly friends with any of them aside from the ex-prisoner. There was Naib, but he was already talking to Norton (who already had his plate of food, which made Mike think he's taking too long to decide) and he did not want to put himself through some kind of interaction with the prospector for the rest of the day. Annie was talking to some other ladies, too, so what the heck. 

He finalized that it was about time to just get some food and sit alone afterward, so he made his way into the kitchen and ideally bumped into someone. "Mikey!" William's heavy British accent always made him giggle, which is exactly what he did. They walked back a little from each other, grins wide across both men's faces as they greeted each other. "Will, hey! Sorry, I wasn't really paying attention."
"No worries, bro- oh, are you okay? Not carded for a match today?" 

"Oh, well, I'm 'injured', so Emily requested a week recovery for me." The acrobat explained, holding up his left hand and made air quotes at injury. He just shrugged, smiling at Emma who had waved at the pair in passing. "Nothing major, really, but she insisted that I didn't play." William frowned at his words, reaching down to pick up his injured hand with so much delicacy that it didn't suit the eccentric forward. He lifted it high, then lowered it, then pushed each of Mike's fingers as if they were going to trigger some reaction before lastly attempting to flex his wrist, to which he flinched away. 

He realized only after how harsh the sudden action was, and turned his head up to watch his friend's guilty face. "Yeah, sorry," he brushed it off albeit awkwardly, patting his right hand against William's chest. "I'd rather not feel that pain again, it's been fine. Anyway! I'm gonna get a plate full, so I'll find you and we'll talk more after, cool?" Mike was already walking past the giant rugby player, refusing to acknowledge his very concerned stare and did as he said he would. Without too much focus, he threw whatever was set out onto the plate he picked up and returned to the dining area to settle down with the forward again. 

Seated, he leaned with his elbows planted on the table to shoot a smile at the batter who sat on the other side of taller man. "Hellooo, Ganji!" As he went against his backrest, he rolled his shoulders and instantly began to scarf down his breakfast. "So, what are you planning to do while you're recovering?" William asked through a full mouth, eating much slower in comparison to the hungry acrobat. The question made the latter pause, before shrugging. "Well, mafbe I'll do some work on m'own in cusfoms."

"Don't talk with that mouth full, Mike," somebody commented while passing close enough to hear, but Mike didn't care to look back at them. He gulped down what he was chewing on before repeating his words. "I'll maybe try running around some map in a custom setup. Alone, because I know my more common teammates would be busy." 

Ganji had surprised both males by speaking up. "If you want, I could join. I'm sure if you just ask around, people would be willing to join. We could even get a hunter, too." Mike didn't consider it, actually. It would make more sense if he got people to join him to mimic a normal match, and a hunter would've topped the cake without a doubt. "Well, I'll let you know when I'm free for enough time and I could join, too!" William chipped in, eyebrows raised in interest. 

"Well, isn't that fun," he beamed, fingers drumming next to his plate. "I'll go over to the hunters and ask around later on and let you guys know if anyone agrees." Mike, now in a much more excited mood, finished his breakfast while having some more conversation with his company. 

Afterward, Mike said his goodbyes to the two athletes as they went off to a match together, leaving him in the same seat as earlier- Ganji offered to take his plate, and he couldn't have been more grateful because he was stuffed. He remained for a while, entertained small talk with Naib and Eli as they left for their own matches while ignoring the fact that someone had been one hundred percent certainly staring at him in pure curiosity. 

Until he spent another single, lonely and silent moment alone inside the dining room, he didn't feel like leaving. Everyone had been done with their eating, either in matches or communing among each other in the living area, or simply in their rooms. He had the overwhelming urge to follow suit, however there was the desperate want to curate a solid plan for the custom setup he promised his friends. He stared down at his hands, eyes narrowing as he pondered which of the hunters he should try talking to first, as well as who would actually bother listening to him. 

Standing from the table, Mike stretched his arms and back as best as he could without issue, before resolutely making his way outside of the manor. The sun was already high in the sky despite only being 9am, but there wasn't a complain from the acrobat as he crossed the large, conjoining gardens to walk up to the front door of the hunter's side of the manor. The doors loomed intimidatingly, the insanely height only logical to compensate for the equally huge residents behind it. It only the occurred that he'd never been to the hunter's side throughout his years there, but he was sure the factions never visited the other's.

It was almost like dropping a rat in a pit of snakes, however Mike found himself the least concerned about his safety. There was no need to, of course! They were not allowed to attack survivors outside of game settings, plus he wouldn't have been considered as an intruder, either. What could've gone wrong? 

Chapter Text

Watching Mike talk to his two friends was something Norton caught himself doing.

It was weird when he really came to his senses that his eyes were trained on the acrobat, eased at the sight of wide smile and light laughter after the forward made some stupid joke. Ever since he managed to run into Mike while walking down to the dining room, he noticed that rather than wearing his harlequin jumpsuit, he was in much more casual wear. It was certainly a sight to see the usually vibrant male in plain white. He also couldn't really ignore the way his wrist was wrapped, much like earlier. 

That surely meant that he had a chance to ask about his hand without seeming weird, right? Hopefully, Mike shouldn't have been bothered either, because when you dress in something that isn't in provided outfits from the baron, you're practically sitting on a goldmine of questions from everyone else. It was generally pretty uneventful outside of the games, so any new piece of information that could get someone's interest was literally equivalent to feeding a starved dog. 

The problem was that he really had no idea how long it had been since he's been staring. Not until he felt a nudge, and his attention instantly snapped to the seer next to him, eyes covered yet boring straight into Norton's mind, and behind him was Naib with more of a judgmental stare. "Norton, did something happen between you and Mike?"

"What?" The question immediately had him dumbfounded- where did they even get the idea from? He resisted the urge to glance over at the blonde for no reason in particular, but his eyebrow cocked defensively. "I don't really know what you're on about. Nothing is wrong." He hated the way the two watched each other after his response. 

Naib was quick to comment, while Eli kept an amused smile on his face. "When I told you to stop being awkward, I didn't mean make it fuckin' weird." 

The prospector didn't bother acknowledging him, rather looking down at his plate of half eaten food. All that ran through his mind was to get an opportunity to ask about the acrobat's hand. He really wished that their weird encounter on the staircase didn't make him seem too, well, weird. Maybe he could try after breakfast? He didn't have a match until noon. "I noticed you were straying a little, since you two walked in together." Eli was talking. "When you walked away from him, I assumed he said something rude. It is Mike, after all, and he's not a person with a filter." 

The prospector shrugged, poking his food with his gloved hand. "I mean, I just didn't know how to reply to him. I'm not used to talking a lot... and he seems like the type to want everyone to talk to him as much as he does with them." 

"Are you sure you're not in love with the clown or something?"

"Wh-" Norton coughed, shaking his head quickly. "Where did you pull that bullshit from, Subedar?"

The mercenary shrugged, pushing a slice of toast into his mouth boredly. "It's not the worst idea without context," Eli agreed, pressing his hands together. "It's obvious how much more aware of him you've been in comparison to other times. I'm pretty sure the two of you barely spoke when we would all be together, so it is a little strange that you're so... focused. Unless, of course, you're just interested in asking about his little situation."

The raven sighed, "Of course that's what it is, O Intelligent Eli. That crush, love idea was stupid, you guys could find better things to try teasing me about or something." He folded his arms, leaning back in his chair. Lucky for him, the two actually left him alone- continuing their previous conversation with ease, and he would randomly give his input when he felt like it. Thank lord, he said to himself, if I had to continue talking about Mike for any longer... 

Then it clicked, albeit his very dull internal statement; He had no reason at all to actually be so fixated on Mike so suddenly. It had only been like, what, one day? Maybe two, when he accidentally felt the injury on the other's wrist. He had so long to simply ask the acrobat, 'What's wrong with your hand?' and get his answer- and he was cursing himself for not taking whatever little opportunity he had before. To go then, especially after their staircase conversation (if Norton could even call it that), felt wrong. The last thing he needed was to be ignored because Mike thought he was too awkward or not normal enough to talk to. Simultaneously, it didn't actually matter. He could've just minded his business like he always did, not bother to get him in the perfect moment just to ask about his wrist. 

Or he could just ask right now and get it over with. 

When he raised his head to look at Mike again, he was alone. He just barely listened to Eli and Naib as they told him bye to go off to a match and then he finally checked, without thinking, head turning to the side to see nobody. On the far end of the table, a few other survivors remained, but they didn't matter. He found himself watching the acrobat again. Just ask now and get it over with. It repeated in his head once more, but he frowned. As hard as he'd convince himself that he only wanted to know just that one little bit of information, about his wrist, it just never settled with him too well. 

Norton wanted to know Mike. He wanted to know miscellaneous facts about him, learn his reactions to different things, find out his favourite food; He wanted to be Mike's friend. That still deemed itself a problem, because he had no idea where to start.

-

"What a sight to see, our little star acrobat." 

A chill ran down the mentioned male's spine at the disgustingly smooth voice, accentuated by the cold fog that began to surround him. There was a cool blade that dragged across his neck, pushing his curls out of its usual place. He didn't need to turn to know that it was Jack, yet he did so anyway- slowly, in order to not accidentally get his neck cut from the weapon against it. Mike's head craned much higher than he expected, not realizing that they were so close together. The hunter wore a dark blue suit with the usually large lapels, his shirt unbuttoned and without a tie but his vest worked hard to cover up any lower skin from being exposed. Beneath the long, white mask he wore, his cheeks were contorted in an obvious smile; and the smaller couldn't have been more thankful for said mask blocking the rest of his face. 

A forced smile played across his own face, sweat forming on his head as he tried his best to not run away from the uncomfortable gaze he was stuck under. "Ah, Jack, hello there," Mike's voice wavered, but it thankfully went ignored. The tall hunter slouched down to lessen their distance even more, eyeless mask peering disturbingly as if the acrobat's soul was being read. "What business do you have over on this dangerous side, Mike Morton?"

"Well, I just wanted to find someone willing to help some poor survivors out." Mike started, before pursing his lips as he eyed the fog hunter. "I know best not to ask you, though, so no need to get excited." He his prideful smile fell into a confused frown when he heard a gravelly chuckle from Jack, but he still turned unconsciously to the door where should've lead to the living area. Grateful that he felt the cold retreat from his body once he stepped into the living room, he caught sight of four hunters sitting around a small coffee table, throwing cards down at each other.

At the sound of the door, all heads turned to look at him. It was silent for a while, until he awkwardly waved and said, "Um, hey..."

"Good day, Mister Morton." The violinist spoke first, smile gentle on his scarred face (it had also been the first time Mike saw his full face, and it was a lot less scary than he first assumed). Then, the geisha nodded her head in  a bow with a smile as polite as the other's. The last two, the black and white guards, were talking to each other in hushed voices, one significantly louder and more aggressive than the other, but he didn't bother to try listening to them. 

"I'll make this quick so I won't be too up in your space, I know it must be weird to see little old me on your side of the manor and whatnot." Mike clapped his hands together as gently as possible, and it gained the attention of the violinist- the blonde noticed quickly, but he didn't entertain the short second of eye contact they had. "I'm unable to participate in matches as usual because of an... injury, so I decided to set up a custom game and you can't really do that without a hunter, right?" His eyebrows were raised with a smile, expectancy thorough in his expression.

"You can do a custom without a hunter," The black guard grumbled, earning himself a nudge from his counterpart, who began to speak right after. "Shut up. When do you plan to have it?"

"That depends on the hunter and their availability." He replied, before looking over at Geisha. She raised her hand over her mouth before she made her own comment. "I believe I have a lot of matches this week, and I would prefer to rest in between. I am sorry." 

Then Mike looked at the violinist, who seemed to have been waiting for his turn. "I can." His reply was quick, but voice soft as if he were ashamed of his answer. "Whenever would be convenient for your team. I don't have much matches... not anymore." His tone dropped impossibly low at the end, which only made the volume lower. The acrobat didn't hear, but the two hunters next to him did and they both glanced at him, but he didn't seem as bothered as he sounded. "Unless you want another hunter, then that's okay."

"No, that's great, actually! Thank you for being so willing, though." He wasn't lying, but it was a little unsettling how obviously interested Antonio was. Of course, the other hunters were as well, because it's not every day you see a survivor in their side of the manor as well as them being outside of their usual game attire, yet surprisingly nobody questioned the last fact. 

Well, nobody did until the bloody queen came pushing into the living area with a tray full of snacks for the others. "Mike Morton!" She exclaimed pleasantly, a smile on her pale face that made it seem as if the two were the best of friends. "What are you doing here? Oh my, what's wrong with your hand?" She asked in a breath, hurrying herself to the table where the hunters were playing their game to rest the snacks down before going to the blonde. She gently picked up his hands, which were still extended from his clap earlier, analyzing his wrapped wrist with surprisingly good intent. "I just hit it, that's all- and I'm sure the others can tell you what I came for. I was planning to leave now, anyway, I've been in your space for too long." Mike said warily, but a stern tut-tutting made him look up at the hunter. 

"Stop with that nonsense quickly, you," She shook her head, moving a hand to stroke his curls- messing them up to his displeasure. "We may be on opposing factors but that doesn't mean we can't be friendly with each other. However, if you wish to leave then I hope you take care of yourself." The woman gave a warm smile, and Mike returned the gesture as he excused himself from the room with a wave of his good hand. He let out a soft sigh when he was finally at the door, relieved out of his mind that the hunters weren't trying to bite his head off- even though he knew the rules stated they weren't allowed to hurt survivors outside of match settings. He opened the door and pushed himself into the previous room, but he was confused when the door closed much later than it should've. 

He turned on the spot to see at Antonio, who looked down shyly. "I'm sorry," He started softly, fingers wrapping around strands of his hair that moved toward his intertwined hands. "I didn't know if it would've been okay to ask in such a setting with the others, but even now I feel as if it's inappropriate to ask about your personal life." Sincerity and guilt was a strange mix to the acrobat, but he didn't really care much about keeping his dumb problem an incident. The more he went around telling others that he just hit his hand was increasing the size of the hole in his mind that desperately wanted to talk about his hallucination things in full detail. It was a good opportunity, however, because he's always wanted a hunter friend despite how weird it seemed, and he's always liked Antonio because of how comforting his demeanor was. Especially in matches, even when Mike would be tripping on those annoying strings and getting slapped around like nobody's business, the violinist's humming was (to him) the hunter's own way of apologizing. 

Communication between the factions during a game was never entertained outside of Duo Hunters, so quick matches or ranked games were always boring when the other survivors would get petty or just be eliminated or something. When Mike was kiting, he'd always try to make small talk with hunters even if he's at half health, literally running for his life but still be ignored. It wasn't like he couldn't, but it always seemed wrong to do. Antonio would've smiled, even if it was his perpetual expression, hum sweet songs and play short little tunes on his violin as if it weren't his weapon. He's pretty sure most of the others like him for his subtle kindness, too, so what was the harm in giving the man what he wanted while taking some time to really, properly talk about his experience? They both got what they wanted.

"Oh, it's fine, I'll tell you." He grinned, pointing his head toward the entrance. "I'd much rather we go somewhere else, where we can be alone." Mike began walking first, regrettably not looking back as he bumped into something cold- no time to react when skinny limbs wrapped around his shoulders. It was Jack again, and the blonde rolled his eyes. "Oh, I'd take you somewhere we can be alone." The sickening voice said into his ear, and he could only see a disgusting  smirk beneath the mask as he forced his eyes to look at the other hunter.

"Yeah? I hope it's an elevator to hell." The survivor spat in return, struggling in the hold he was under. 

"Jack, stop being weird. Let him go." Antonio scolded, reaching up to take his hair out of its ponytail. The tendrils of black moved in an instant, prying the ripper's hands off the smaller male's body and simultaneously picking up the latter's weight off the ground. With Mike awkwardly being held in the air and Jack folding his arms in annoyance, the acrobat couldn't help but laugh.

Eventually enough, Antonio and Mike went into the gardens outside of the hunter's manor and they talked for a while, the shorter explaining in detail his dreams and the hallucinations. He even unwrapped his hand to show the hunter the bruise he had, who then had to rewrap it because the survivor had the least amount of knowledge when it came to properly handling bandages. "Isn't there the psychologist? What if you try speaking with her?" 

Mike's face paled. "Trust me, It wouldn't work. I can't bring myself to talk to her or her follower. They scare me." He shivered playfully, before chuckling at himself. "I told Luca, and he told me to do the exact same thing. Plus, it's not like the hallucinations are bad, per say, I actually think its very comforting." He was beginning to speak softer as they neared the survivor's manor entrance. "I can't control myself when I start fighting against it or whatever." 

They stopped to face each other in final words before they left each other. "Well, if you want you can always come find me again if you ever want to talk about it again, or anything, for that matter." Antonio stepped back with his hands behind his back, watching from a distance like some parent dropping his child to school. "I'll listen to you, Mike Morton. You're great company."

"...oh." Mike's face was starting to get hot, because when was the last time someone told him something relatively meaningful like that? Worse yet when he's been most known as loud and annoying and talkative- the words made his heart swell, to think that there were people who could actually tolerate him. Well, maybe there were more than he thought, but he wouldn't know because nobody tells him to his face how they truly feel. "Well, I think you're great company as well, Mister Paganini."

They shared a smile, just like they had been for the last few minutes they spent talking to each other. "I'll make sure to let you know when I have a full team ready for that match, okay?" His response was a bow, so Mike nodded his head as he carried himself back into the manor. 

That was refreshing in a weird way, he had to admit. It wasn't every day he got to speak so casually to hunters- especially considering he wasn't allowed in matches for the rest of the week, he couldn't have seen them on a normal basis in comparison to before. Walking into the survivor's manor was just as it usually was, but there was somewhat of an anxious pair waiting for him. His eyes landed on Luca's, who immediately looked down at his feet, but he didn't have any time to comment because he was redirected by hands clamping down on his shoulder to force him to return the doctor's gaze. "Mike! You're trying to plan a custom match to play when you're supposed to be resting, why? It would be easiest for you to heal up quicker then play as much as you'd like afterward...!" 

Her hands fell to his left wrist, picking it up gently and began to unwrap the bandage, and brushed her finger over the bruise, being sure that the swelling was decreasing. Mike raised his face to look at the prisoner behind the woman, who continued touching his hand. The brunette winced at the stare, because he knew without hearing that he needed to explain why Emily was literally waiting for him. "Sorry, man... Will asked me to spread word and it kinda slipped my mind that maybe she shouldn't have known..."

The doctor blinked in confusion, turning her head over her shoulder. "What do you mean I shouldn't have known? I would've found out anyway, Luca." 

"But you found out directly from me! That's bad."

Mike exhaled and let his chin fall to his chest. Time to kiss that custom match goodbye. 

Chapter Text

He rapped his knuckles against the wooden countertop at back of the living area, gaining a surprised exclaim from the barmaid who turned to face the other. "Mikey! Gosh, it's been so long since I've seen your face properly." The woman smiled big, and the addressed male returned the expression as he also greeted the other two males who sat on the other stools lining the small bar. Kevin tipped his hat, and Jose raised his eyebrows quickly as he sipped from his glass. 

Mike had luckily slipped onto the scene when there wasn't an ongoing conversation, so it didn't feel as though he was intruding too much- not that it mattered, because he may not have spent all his time with the trio as much as he would with Naib and Eli, but he was still very good friends with them all. Obviously because he very well enjoyed a heated conversation over some of Demi's sweet mix of dovlin. "Hey, Doris! Good day to you both as well," the acrobat chuckled, playing with the sleeves of his hoodie as he tried to not be awkward about his appearance. "It's great to see you still behind counter, because I'd love a mix, please." He asked, pinching the cotton between his fingers. It was already the day after he'd gotten his earful from the doctor about the match he planned, and even though she'd eventually said it would've been okay for him to participate in it, he still felt thoroughly stressed. 

Of course, it wasn't because of the woman, nor was it regarding his performance in the mentioned game to be played in some days time, but as much as his days had gotten much more consistent with his day to day activities (i.e., eat, talk to his friends, sleep during the day, eat again, sleep), his dreams hadn't been getting any more tolerable. The dream of him in Lakeside was his last majorly vivid one, only being a little aware of the amounts of less significant dreams he's had while napping during his lengthy free time, but that morning he slept in later than usual; unsurprisingly trapping him in one of his worst nightmares of recent time. With that nightmare in mind again, he hadn't realized his fingers were drumming against his leg. His eyes followed idly the brunette woman as she did follow up on his request, but he was blind to the gazes he was receiving. "Ain't it a little too early for ya drinking, Morton?" Kevin enquired curiously, head tilting back so he could look at the acrobat beyond his friend- Jose even leaned forward when he noticed. 

"Oh, it's never too early to have some fun." He smirked in his reply, but the keen eyes of the first officer, glass or no, beat him down. "You've got some serious circles, Mike. Have you not been sleeping?" 

He didn't think it would be that obvious. "Sleeping too much, I guess. My wrist hasn't been the only thing putting me down, but that's not important information, really." He followed the statement with a thanks and a heavy sigh as he stilled his hands around the rocks glass filled half-way with the red scotch with D.U.P.H.R.I.N. (whatever the hell that stood for, Demi always refused to tell him). He took a swig of it, eyes closing as the refreshingly smokey liquid slid down his throat. "I would ask if it's too early for you both, but everyone should know by now when the three of you are free from matches, it's happy hour." The playful comment was rewarded with light laughter, and he let a small smile grace his lips. "Yer smarter than I thought, clown," The cowboy finally took his hat off, shaking his head to let his dreads relax from being contained for the entirety of the day so far. 

Said man yelped when he received a reprimanding pinch on his side from his partner- or best friend, whatever their relationship was remained a mystery to Mike. "He can read and write, we all have diaries, Kevin. We should all be surprised that you can do those things." Jose smirked smugly, and Demi laughed when the cowboy scoffed embarrassedly. "Anyway, ya hand, right? Been healing up well?"

Mike concurred with a hum as he sipped his drink again. It always amazed him that the dovlin base the barmaid had could alter the taste of something as dominating as scotch whiskey, and it helped him enjoy the otherwise overbearing liquor. The conversation was a lot less heated than it usually would've been, but that was a little bit expected since it was still the middle of the day. The time didn't bother the acrobat one second as he continued to get his refills of his, as he always loved calling it, Doris' Loving Special Mikey Mix. Doris, because of that pretty lady who always used to light up the display televisions Mike would've seen when he went out of the circus for his supplies. Demi reminded him so much of the actress in more ways than one, none that he would've liked to specify, but it was all positive- most being compliments to the woman who worked to the bone to please her fellow survivors' wants and needs behind the counter as she would've in her own bar. 

When the alcohol would get to his head, it wasn't uncommon for Mike to get sentimental. He would get sad over little things, like the fact that the old circus burned with the audience. He wouldn't see a day outside the manor anymore. He'd maybe never get to see his friends doing what they were happiest doing, like Demi, for example, working in her bar with her brother, or Luca finally able to build whatever contraption he's had in hiding wherever he came from. The blonde's head slammed onto the counter with a loud thud that rattled the first officer. "Hell, Mikey, had too much to drink?" The man snickered, placing his prosthetic hand between the resting male's shoulder blades. His reply was a garbled string of words, muffled by Mike's face pressing against the wood while also being covered slightly by the sleeve of his blue hoodie.  

Only when he weakly pushed his upper body from the counter, he mumbled comprehensible sentence. "I need t'pee." His eyes were heavy, systems muddled warmly in the cool of the living room. Jose and Kevin hadn't been nearly as drunk as he was, because they still had to play in games- whether later in the day or early the next, it wouldn't have been good for them to suffer with a hangover. Demi had been drinking as well, pulling a stool inside of the bar after she realized Mike was downing one glass faster than any of them could finish their own; she didn't mind the work, anyway. She giggled at his drunkenness, since he mirrored a toddler who narrated any and all feelings he felt, and the maternal side of her always entertained the grown man's behavior. "Go pee, Mikey, darling," She cooed, puckering her lips. "You know where the toilets are, don't you? We'll be here when you get back, alright?" 

Jose snorted at her tone, and he glanced at the other male who was uncharacteristically quiet- but he had been dozing the minute he finished his third glass. The brunet placed his hat over his face gently. "Yeah, shoo, Mike," he motioned with his hand. "The adults are gonna talk while you're gone."

"Shuddup, Jose. Go put your boyfriend to sleep." Mike stuck his tongue out at the now blushing male as he stood slowly, waving his hand behind his back as he sauntered off to the communal toilets of his floor. It wasn't that long of a walk, thankfully, but when he pushed open the doors he saw Norton. There. It's always Norton, never Naib or somebody who he could tease and be friendly with. He didn't stop himself from letting out a loud sigh, distracting the prospector from whatever he was doing previously. 

He was only washing his hands when he watched Mike walk past him completely to go into a stall, slamming the door behind him with a groan. "Um, Mike?" He called, taking the albeit awkward time to get himself in a spot for the custom match he's been hearing William talk about. "Is there still space on your team for me to join? For the custom, I mean."

The silence was then followed by an even more awkward trickling sound, liquid in contact with liquid and Norton's face reddened when he heard Mike sigh again. "Yeah, why?" 

"I- um, wanted to join." 

Norton didn't get a reply again for a while, and he glanced at the mirror next to him and flinched. He was blushing way too hard- but it was embarrassing, of course he was. The guy was pissing, and here he was like a weirdo, trying to make small talk while Mike was doing his business. He listened to the inevitable flush, head hanging in shame as he waited for the blonde to step out of the stall and walk closer to him- just to go to wash his hands, obviously. He didn't see the side glance he was receiving, since Norton kept his attention on his dirty gloves. "Okay. Just tell William, he's the one getting a bunch of people to play." 

Now, Norton didn't want to assume, but the acrobat was clearly not okay. They may not have been the best of friends, but the raven knew that Mike was a well put together kind of person. He would keep a smile on his face whether he was happy to see you, talk to you or whatever, or not. It was a little misleading, and generally just a really bad habit, but it was also good for alleviating problematic encounters. That didn't matter- what did is that he was highly trusting his judgement about Mike's, in want of a better term, attitude. "Are you okay,  Mike?" He pushed, eyebrows furrowing. The blonde wore a similar expression to his own, seemingly bothered at the question.

"Of course, I'm okay, Mister Campbell." He said Norton's name with a disturbing amount of mockery, but he didn't try to make it a problem.

"I don't trust that, you know." He replied, folding his arms, and it was then he realized that Mike was mocking him after he folded his arms as well. The raven couldn't help but smirk at the antic. "What are you going to do now?"

"I have a date with Demi to finish, thankyou." The other nodded his head in a low bow, keeping his chin to his chest as he looked at Norton through his thick eyelashes. "A date, huh?" He got another nod, and he smiled. "Do you want me to take you back, then?" 

Mike seemed to consider the offer, but then he pursed his lips and turned his nose. Wordlessly walking past the prospector, he pushed his weight to one leg and he just barely turned his head to stare at Norton over his shoulder. His visible right eye curved up in an obvious grin, before he opened the door and took his leave, with the taller man remaining in the toilet. Norton huffed through his nose, hand running through his hair in defeat. How long would he take to ask the damn clown one single question? He's had too much chances for the past few days to just not. He didn't have an excuse, either, but in all honestly it slipped his mind until he noticed nude-colored gauze wrapped around the blonde's wrist as he was leaving.



"Here's our boy!" Demi cheered, raising her glass in the air as Mike was walking back to the bar rather slowly. His head was pounding, and he knew he was completely wasted yet he couldn't be bothered to take a breather. Much like the first time he went there earlier, as he took a seat, he swiped his hand against the counter. Only Jose remained, so Mike assumed that the first officer had listened to what he said before he went to take his pee break and that made him chuckle. When the barmaid finished with the drink for him, he thanked her (like he has been doing every time it happened) then that cycle had probably continued for another half hour- another half hour worth of 3 more drinks for the acrobat and pointless, idle conversation between the three survivors. 

With a last sip, Mike slid the glass away from him and let his head fall with a thunk onto the bar. His brain was fully muddled, head hurting even worse than before and he just felt drained. Jose and Demi, on the other hand, had sobered up well enough as they continued their conversation. "Oh, right, do you think you could get someone to carry Mike to his room?" He could barely make out the woman's words as he focused mainly on keeping his eyes open. "I made some plans to hang out with Vera when her match was over, and that's gonna happen soon." 

"Yeah... be my slave, Joe. Carry me to my room like you did with your boyfriend." The acrobat giggled, muffling his slurring with his sleeve again. He was so done with drinking, being able to be seen by anyone else. At that point, after he got no reply, he started blanking completely. If he scraped his memory for any last drop of what happened that evening, it was being lifted into someone's arms and then being placed on his bed. 

-

When his eyes opened, it was night- and his head was ringing. He groggily sat up, hands reaching to his temples to rub them slowly. How much did he have to drink? Mike glanced at the red display of the digital clock, and he sighed at the idea of it being almost midnight. Grumbling as he stood from the bed and practically dragged his feet toward the bathroom, he swung open the door and slapped his right hand across the light switch- instantly being greeted with his own image reflected in the mirror. His curls were turned in angles he hadn't really seen before, but it indicated to himself that his hair was getting much longer than it usually would. His eyes were heavy and burning, but as he watched himself they looked normal. 

With an uncharacteristic frown etched across his face while he approached the face sink to let the water run, filling his joint palms to lower his head and splash himself. It did enough to wake him fully, eyes burning even more as he shut his eyes, blindly reaching for his towel to dry his face. At least I'm not feeling that sick, his frowning face remained as he stared at the mirror once more. It took some very lackadaisical deliberation before he began to brush his teeth, much slower than he usually would. As it was, that night was much slower than most nights. 

As he finished, Mike shook off the moisture on his hands despite his towel being right next to him, then dragged his palms against his shirt. He turned and walked out of the bathroom and out of his room as well, closing the door behind him as he made a very undetermined trek to the kitchen. He was hungry, but he didn't feel like making something for himself. His head still hurt, and he'd never thought the day would come where he genuinely wanted to go to sleep rather than be awake- but it was the day. The stairs seemed longer and even more winding than it actually were, even if it were a very standard stairway to begin with- no smooth turns, just blocky, wall supported and boring.  He still found it difficult to go down. 

In the dining area now, he heard more chatter and laughter than he expected for the time of night, lights still on in the living room right next door. He just barely made out William's voice, and he wasn't sure if it were Luca or Eli who was choking on a cackle, and honestly, he didn't care to know. A lot was happening and he'd never felt that sluggish in a long while as his body moved itself into the kitchen, startled when he saw the doctor. "Miss Emily?" 

Said woman turned around, seemingly as surprised as he was, but a smile quickly graced his lips. "Good night, Mike. Are you okay?" She asked, subtly glancing at his uncovered wrist, which she was happy to see healing well. "Um- yeah, I just came for something to eat. What are you doing? I expected you to be sleeping during these late hours."

"I'd expect you to be sipping some drink with the others in the living room, but you seem pretty beat. And sober." She added the last part with a light giggle, turning her attention back to the counter in front of her. "I was making some tea for Emma, since she asked. What were you going to eat? I can prepare it for you."

The offer made Mike's tired expression turn into one of alarm, before he bit down on his lip. "No, it's okay, I can do it myself. I wouldn't want you to keep Emma waiting." Yet after another minute of stubborn back and forth between the doctor and the acrobat, the latter ended up propping himself against a counter as he watched the woman make something quick- and the rest of that night went by quicker than it should've. 

The following morning, he woke up late- which was expected, considering he had been awake for most of the previous night. He got ready, stretching his arms and legs as he stepped toward his door to leave, and as his hand rest on the knob, there was a knock. Mike opened the door with a friendly grin plastered across his face, but it fell to a much more natural one as he was face to face with Norton Campbell. "Here to give your love confession?" His reply was an eye roll, and he chuckled. 

Norton had to stop himself from stepping back, because the suddenness of the door opening so soon after he knocked threw him off. Mike had probably just woken up, since apparently he was drunk the day before when they spoke (which he hadn't known until Demi mentioned he was drinking). "I um.." He started, wanting to get his request out as quickly as possible to leave even faster. Keeping his gaze as low as possible because he knew that the blonde would've said something to throw him off again, he was thinking of something to say without sounding like a complete idiot when he noticed that his hand wasn't wrapped. It took more for him to not cringe at the bruise that covered his wrist than to figure out what to say- because he had the opportunity to actually ask what had happened. 

But that would be weird. 

"Can you wear your Ace outfit? For the, uh, custom match. Tomorrow." He got out, eyebrows pinched together as his fingers laced in front of him. He pried his eyes off the injury, and forced himself to stare at Mike's face, which was evident with confusion. Before he could've replied, Norton found himself speaking more. "Tracy wanted to wear her Re-swim outfit and Joseph was probably gonna join us too because there were a good few people who're interested so they decided to do a duos match instead, and I would wear Wild Pitch and William said he would wear the skating thing and Anne said she would wear something to match but Ganji really didn't care and-"

"I'll wear it, thanks for letting me know." Mike cut him off with an amused smirk, going to fold his arms until he realized that he didn't wrap his hand, so he put them behind his back. Norton nodded stiffly, turning on his heel then practically speed-walked toward the staircase. Mike stepped out of his room, closing the door behind him as he followed the prospector, taking the opportunity to watch the awkward man. He'd always assumed that Norton would be weird, but more of an asshole than just some big dork who couldn't look someone in the eye. 

Mike wasn't really sure why the two of them suddenly started interacting so often, in comparison to before when they would just nod to each other out of politeness. Even if they were extremely awkward around each other (to rephrase, even if Norton was extremely awkward around Mike), he wasn't that upset about the fact that they did certainly get closer. 

He smiled. 

Chapter Text

.

"Are you ready, Mikey?" William leaned over the table with a bright beam. Everyone who wanted to play in the custom match the acrobat had organized had been there, surprisingly on time as well. "Do you think your hand will be okay?"

The blonde adjusted his cap and glanced at his wrapped hand, since he wanted to keep the bruise on his wrist hidden until it was barely visible. "Of course it'll be okay, do you not trust in my ability to survive?" He replied, flashing the other a smile similar to his own before he leaned into the arm wrapped around his shoulder. Anne was always that much of a sweetheart, and Mike loved her like a sister despite their lack of interaction outside of matches. "Come on, William, don't you know who this guy is?" She added playfully, and the addressed shrugged until he suddenly turned to Tracy next to him to suddenly ask her a question. Ganji and Naib were talking, but next to them Eli was actively being ignored by Norton. 

It had been five days since Mike's last match, and seeing the bustle among his friends was enough to bring a bubble of anticipation in his chest. One leg restless as he waited on the hunters, there was no doubt that he was pleased with the outcome. As much as he planned a normal match, there had just been more people who wanted to take part so Antonio ended up getting someone else to join him so they could've had a duo hunter match instead. "Did you guys ever find out who the other hunter was, by the way?" He asked, at the same time the curtains separating the factions' rooms pushed open.

Both Antonio and his partner came out, bowing politely while bypassing the confusion that rose at the sight of the photographer. "Joseph? You're not supposed to be here!" Tracy cried out in shock, and the hunter scoffed in return. "Because I am not permitted in duos means that I cannot play in a custom duo hunters match? I will not let such boring rules determine my choice." His French accent was funnily heavy, and the other hunter was visibly entertained at his level of irk from the survivor's statement. It was short lived, though, because the match needed to start on time, so the hunters were required to go back to their original places to then move to the match location.

Mike wasn't that happy to focus on the surroundings of Moonlit River Park, eyes immediately meeting the cipher on the bridge over the river. It also didn't help that running toward him was Norton, because he could've done with a more fun decoding partner that day. "Oh, Mike. Hi." The prospector greeted, nodding his head awkwardly before beginning to punch the code into the machine. He stood, unmoving as he thought about what he should've done- he could run to another cipher and maybe find Tracy or Naib, he could've gone to look around for the hunters to have some fun provoking them or simply... decoding. Or he could just stand and stare and pretend that deciphering the machine would've made his hand hurt! No, you're better than that. He scolded himself, before reluctantly moving closer to work on the cipher. 

The air between them was a weird mix of somewhat casual yet extremely tense, and it was difficult for Norton to focus on properly calibrating the machine when the acrobat's fingers were so close to touching his own. The white of his fingerless glove kept distracting him from the speed at which they jumped in and out of his peripheral vision, and falling to the urge to watch the man next to him caused him to miss a check and they both flinched back when the cipher sparked dramatically. He felt the words in his throat- the automatic response in a situation like that one, 'I'm sorry', but nothing but a breath of air came out as he was able to fully advert his attention. 

"What's wrong with you?" Mike asked, voice low with his face looking miffed. "We just started!" But Norton knew better than to assume he was upset or anything, it was always much deeper than what it seemed when it came to the blonde- something he came to figure out on his own in a short amount of days. His face was pale and his eyes were circled with black but he still managed to retain his usual look, ready for anything; like nothing could cut him down, which was true. Any other survivor would've been grateful to be in his position, exempt from matches and able to lose the stress of having to survive against try-hard hunters, but he was the one to get a custom match organized so he could get that rush again (Norton assumed, and he sure as hell wasn't wrong). That was an admirable trait he had, and there was no doubting that. 

He wasn't sure how long he took to think about that, because Mike had already gone back to working on the cipher. Norton blinked, face reddening as he did the same, mumbling an apology loud enough for him to hear. "I was just, um. Distracted." His eyes landed on the bandaged left arm that almost mirrored the gloved other, and to his best ability Norton focused on decoding while also conjuring a not weird way to finally ask about what was wrong. He knew, to some extent, that it was bruised but it didn't take a scientist to know that the bruise was the result of something much more, and he wasn't too sure of the amount of days it had been since the first day he realized something was wrong. As much as he wanted to find out, he still didn't want it to be weird. He also needed to consider the fact that he did miss this opportunity on numerous occasions within the last few days, so the timing was perfect. They were alone together, undisturbed by nothing but the sound of water rushing and the occasional popping of ciphers in the distance (which reminded him that they really should've focused on working). "Um, Mike? What happened to your hand, anyway?"

The question made Mike laugh. It obviously wasn't funny, but that didn't stop the reaction that confused the raven. Somewhere deep in his mind, he wanted to explain. It had been five days since his hand was hurt, and five days since their first awkward interaction where the acrobat could've bitten his tongue off from the pain Norton added to his swollen wrist. He was glad the man didn't bring it up on the spot then, but they had their time alone after that first instance and Mike highly expected the curiosity to overtake the prospector in those times. Since so much time had passed, he just assumed that Norton didn't care, so that was good enough- but it was still fuel to his confusion once he realized that the unassuming male had very unsubtly been seeking conversation (at least, trying to) with the blonde. Mike wasn't going to voice that, because he had a feeling that it took a lot of courage for the other to ask and the last thing he wanted to do was call Norton out and make him feel bad or something. 

"Well, I bruised it. I was asleep and took a few bad turns, to put it lightly, then bam. Hit my wrist on the nightstand, swole so bad Emily said I couldn't play." He answered, shrugging as if it didn't bother him in the first place. The cipher was finally close to finishing since they started working on it, and there hadn't been any notification of the hunters hitting their teammates so it was safe to assume that they went friendly. Norton had stopped decoding, looking down at Mike's hand again before returning his eyes to meet bright blues and golds. "I saw, actually. When I came to ask you about the outfits." Mike's eyebrows raised but he didn't say anything else. That didn't seem to bother Norton, either, so they finished decoding the machine in a comfortable silence they hadn't experienced with the other before. As they moved on from the bridge, Mike found his attention turning to the river. They were relatively close to the railings, and the sickly feeling that bubbled in his chest worsened when he zoned out, completely against his conscious will to not. 

He was already running through the burning park, breathing laboured and bomb sack sporting only one fire bomb, that jumped against his leg as he hid behind an obstacle, just barely missing the fire of gunshots that was aimed at his head. It made no sense, right? He was having trouble understanding it as well. When he somehow manages to catch his breath for a second, he regrettably glanced his pursuer to watch a shadowy figure- full bodied, tall and muscular. Well, if it were human then there would be a lot of muscle. Mike had to call it bulky rather than muscular, but that wasn't important. There was a gun in its hands, one he wouldn't have known jack shit about if there wasn't some voice shouting in his mind that it was a minigun, some M-1-2-3 business that he couldn't focus on because his heart was climbing into his throat and the last thing he needed to know was the details of the weapon that would've caused his death. His death that wasn't caused by suffocation, at least, because breathing was getting much harder as he was nearing the small circus tent (which was fully engulfed in flames). 

The problem there was that he couldn't see the tent, and the figure had gotten dangerously closer during the few seconds he stopped. His legs were moving desperately away from the shadow, who cocked the gun in its hand or whatever it was doing to get ready to shoot at him again. Panicked and neglecting paying attention to his surroundings, Mike took the last bomb from his sack and, still not looking forward, he threw it beneath his feet and used the leverage to heighten his jump away from the line of fire to give himself some kind of slight advantage. The second problem was that he was jumping in the direction of the railings of the bridge he hadn't known he was running along, shin knocking against the metal and sending one of the worst pains through his leg, which caused his balance to waver and, in an attempt to lessen the pain by bringing his leg closer to his body, it only worsened the predicament. In less than half a second, Mike's body was much too forward and tipping over the railing, barreling into the river.

Like his last vivid dream where he was falling, Mike expected to find himself in his bed- but unlike that time, his head was slapped by the still surface of the water. His skull felt as though it split in half and his skin was stinging but he instantly began to flail his sinking body to face the surface which he just ripped through, reaching up to the lights of fire and lamps that lit the park that only grew further. His lungs burned and his vision darkened drastically and as he let out the breath that he held in for so long, his eyes closed and body relaxed, falling victim to the forces pulling him deeper into the water. 

It was easy to assume it was his end, until he felt a harsh punch to his gut. Mike's eyes flew open and his chest heaved with a cough, but his hands were already at his neck as he scraped the cold, condensed air that constricted his throat. That time, it was different compared to the morning he actually had that nightmare; one hand was hooked with something he couldn't see for the life of him, and that respective side of his body was enveloped in warmth he wasn't very used to. Only until he was stopped from walking (he was walking?) and something wrapped around his uninjured hand, but it was gentle and warm unlike what he felt around his neck; which, as he thought about it, was dissipating rapidly. After another few seconds of faintly hearing his name being called and the warmth on his hand feeling more like tapping than anything else, Mike finally began to tune into his actual surroundings and his actual feelings. The park wasn't in flames. He wasn't alone- Norton was next to him. Norton had been calling his name, shaking him out of whatever trance he got wrapped up in. Their eyes met, and the raven man's alarmed face instantly relaxed. "Mike, are you okay?" He asked, moving his hand from the other's shoulder and unlinked their arms. 

"I-I am. Sorry." The acrobat mumbled, hugging his arms to his chest and looked around quickly to catch his bearings, before turning his head down to the floor and heading directly toward the small tent. They hadn't really moved from the bridge at all, just barely on the solid land on the side of their destination. Mike sighed through his nose, not bothering to wait for the man who was trailing him cautiously as if he were waiting for him to have another weird, zoned-out moment. 

Norton was, to put it lightly, flabbergasted. He had no words whatsoever, but in his mind he felt pity for Mike. Never in his life had he imagined seeing the acrobat's panicked face so close, looking so clear yet his eyes looked far off, as if he weren't actually there. All he did was gasp and mutter words much too softly, before he started clawing at his neck. It was an experience he didn't want to have again, simply due to the fact that he had no idea what he should've done or should do, be it that something similar occurred once more. It wasn't his first time feeling bad- or something like that- for the blonde, so he put it to the back of his mind and ran forward to keep up with the other. 

The want to cheer Mike up was... strange. Norton felt it in his chest, tingling in his fingers and all- it was uncanny. He needed to cheer the acrobat up. When he walked into the tent, Mike was already on the small stage at the front center. Even if he weren't in his usual jumpsuit, with all the frills and colours to match the atmosphere of bright lights all shining where he stood, the scene put a small smile across his face. He didn't know what was going through that guy's mind, but he wasn't dumb enough to miss when someone was visibly content and that's exactly what the other looked like. All he needed to do was to get him even more comfortable, so when he sat in the front bench and brought his hands together in a clap, it surprised Mike. 

Before he said anything about it, Norton spoke first. "What's this? Is the star of hullabaloo performing for little old me?." His words made himself cringe inwardly, but it did get a large beam across the acrobat's freckled face. It took a slight second longer than he expected for a reply, but it came with a wave of a hand. "Oh yes, it is. How unfortunate that you had to meet me in such a state but one little injury can't stop me giving my best performance... however I can easily wow you with my skills." He gave a playful wink as he stretched his back quickly, but still making it look more graceful than it should've, even if the loud cracks of his back contrasted from his movements. He could only manage a few one handed flips and splits, but it still seemed to keep the prospector entertained as he kept clapping.

About the same time he was slowing down to stop, the violinist and the photographer were leading a crowd directly into the tent. It didn't take long at all for everyone to silently agree that they should pour into the seats and watch the acrobat, but the latter male had to stop them before they got too comfortable. "Oh, no, wait- I'm stopping now," he chuckled awkwardly, and straightened himself from the one arm handstand he held himself in. "I don't want to wear out my good hand, so I'm sorry, everyone!" He waved with his right hand high in the air, before bringing it down in front of him in a deep bow. Mike quickly jumped from the stage to get himself out of the spotlight. It didn't feel as fun when it was just him and Norton, but he bypassed that thought and smiled up at Antonio, who walked up to him with a smile. 

"How have you been doing, Mister Morton?" He asked, reaching a hand out to pat the survivor's head gently. "You look much more relaxed since I've last seen you." 

But it was too loud for either of them to hear the other beyond that point. William had obviously stared the commotion, laughing gaudily at some joke before he ran up the stage with little intention, dragging Naib and the latter forcing Norton to join them; before the forward began to beatbox and entertaining his two friends to start dancing. Joseph was taking pictures, and his handheld camera had a bright, distracting flash and loud shuttering sound- Tracy was using Gregory to dance with the men, so her noisy controller was working at full speed for her commands to follow through. The others had gone closer to cheer, inevitably leaving the pair directly behind everyone; though s little annoying, it only made them smile. 

Eventually when the each of his teammates and himself included got their time to dance on the stage, Ganji (of all people) proposed that they go to the rollercoaster to get to the remaining cipher. It was the one closest to the exit gate, too, so it was convenient- even if they all had to walk to the opposite side of the map just to get to it. That was when Mike found himself being lifted off the ground, which was highly alarming at first until he had the realization that he's only ever been that high when Antonio held him. Turning his head slightly to look at the taller male, he was given only a wink just barely visible behind thick hair until he was set down on broad shoulders. "Oh, Mister Paginini! How expected," The acrobat chortled, resting his hands flat against the top his head comfortably and let himself be carried by the hunter, following his partner and the rest of the team to the coaster's start. 

Once at the northern side of the map, the walking pace fastened to energized running toward the staircase of the roller coaster stop, led by Joseph as if he were a teacher responsible for a school field trip, which kept a smile on Mike's face until he was put down on the ground by the violinist. The look he gave was unusual, but relatively entertained as he glanced quickly to the side, but Mike didn't care enough to follow it. That added to his ultimate confusion when the long haired man lowered his frame to be face-to-face with the blonde. "I'll tell Joseph to not start the ride yet. Take your time." 

"What are you-" Mike tried to ask but the other had already walked away, shoulders jerking with a chuckle that made him grumble. What kind of cryptic comment was that? Take his time? With what? He was about to run after the hunter, but he was quickly stopped when he bumped into Norton. "Oh- sorry, haha.."

Norton didn't seem too bothered as he faced the other, a soft guise on his usually stern face. "No, it's fine. Are you feeling better now?" He asked, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. Looking at Mike after all that had occurred before was a little funny, considering the tension between them was so inconsistent yet he couldn't have been less bothered. Plus, he completely forgot he was in his baseball outfit that matched with his tennis one, and even though it wasn't anything that spectacular considering the photographer, Naib and Tracy were also wearing their outfits from the same packages, it felt different. But that was weird, so he didn't bother thinking about it any more than he needed to. Mike's legs looked good. His face reddened at the thought. "Yeah, I'm okay now. Thanks for um, not being awkward about it." The acrobat's reply brought him back to reality, and a weak fist hit against his shoulder made his lips curl in a smile. 

"Yeah, no problem." Norton replied, smile broadening with Mike's, before his eyebrow twitched at the familiarly obnoxious cough from the mercenary far from them. Without sparing his brunet friend a glance, he extended a hand to his side and let his eyes follow to the other's, who looked down at his gloved hand curiously. Wordlessly, he placed his bandaged palm against the cloth and simultaneously, their palms cupped as they walked up the short staircase to sit in the remaining double seat of the roller coaster. It was hard to ignore the two heads turned to look at the both males respectively, then with Antonio's call the ride started and they went barreling down the tracks of Hell Ride roller coaster. 

Mike tried to rid his mind of the fluttery feeling in his chest as his hand remained holding onto Norton's. 

Chapter Text

That flutter in Mike's chest quickly boiled down to a feeling of dread in his gut. 

It was great in the moment, but he couldn't shake how familiar having his hand held like that was- as sad as it sounded and equally as touch starved, it occurred to the confused blonde that the weird ghost hand that had been messing with his sleep had been holding the same left hand Norton did; the physical sensation was uncannily close, too. Goosebumps spread across his body at the recollection of the hand, albeit how much he wanted to enjoy its innocent attention yet something was off. It was what he wanted, to be undisturbed by his primal urge to shake the hand away as it held his own and he got that- the butterflies in the chest feeling he could've enjoyed much earlier yet was denied of when he slammed his wrist on his nightstand. 

His legs moved quickly to the first person he thought could help him come up with some logical reason for being so pleased when his hand was held, and he wound up in front of the bar in the back of the living area. The barmaid and dancer were in conversation, which at first came as a surprise considering it wasn't the usual cowboy-first officer pair with the woman, but Mike didn't care about the details after a second passed. Her back was turned to him, so Mike simply placed his hand on her shoulder and greeted Demi and nodded his head curtly to Margaretha. "Oh, Mike, hello," Demi smiled up at him, placing the cocktail in her hold on the counter. 

"I don't want to be in either of your hair for too long, so Doris, pretty please do me a favour," Mike asked quickly, giving the barmaid little time to answer when he was already picking up her hand and lacing his injured own with hers. He stared down at his own arm, and the woman's much more delicate fingers, before awkwardly letting go and shifted to an idle position. Demi's eyebrow cocked, but she kept whatever comment she had to herself; she had enough respect to not ask any personal questions with certain people around. "Is that all, Mikey?" She instead asked, dropping her hand back into her lap. Her response was quick, a nod and thanks, and the acrobat was quick to leave to search for someone else to help. 

Maybe it was his sexuality? Did he prefer men? Mike's face flushed as he let his mind run. Demi was attractive, yes, but maybe because she's more like a sister to him that he didn't feel something? It made him frown as he was knocking on Naib's door, because he considered the mercenary to be like his brother, too. All of his friends were like family to him, when he really thought about it, so maybe the whole weird plan to figure out if he was touch starved or super gay was going to turn up null. 

The door he stood in front of was swung open, meeting a half-naked Naib and a chain of low complaints that stopped once Mike was recognized. "Oh- Mike. What do you want?" 

"Hey... Naib...." He replied, dragging out his words as he smiled. "I didn't mean to disrupt anything, but I just have one small favour to ask." The expression the shorter male wore was enough for Mike to state the favour so he could've determined whether or not to comply. "Can you just hold my hand?"

The neutral face fell to annoyed and the door was being closed again, but the blonde was quick to keep it open with his foot. "Come on, Naib, please! You already opened the door and everything, it's nothing hard I'm asking for!" He cried desperately, opening the door with his weight and extending his left arm in the brunet's face. After a few contemplative seconds, Naib sighed and reached out to do as he was asked, watching Mike's face brighten with a smile before just as quickly falling in thought, and the sudden change confused him. "What is this about, Morton?" It took a while before he replied, but Mike only said, "Nothing, really." 

The answer wasn't enough to justify the wastage of the mercenary's time, but it still didn't make since that the acrobat seemed so deep in his mind about just holding hands. "Is this about Norton?"

That was obviously the nail on the coffin, since the question effectively snapped Mike back to reality. Red embarrassedly spread across his cheeks as he pulled his hand away. "What on earth are you on about?" He mumbled anxiously, gaining a laugh from the other. "Oh, come on, Mike. Everyone in that match saw you two idiots holding hands and being mushy. I bet if we weren't there, things would've gone north quick." He said with a smirk, very much enjoying how progressively embarrassed the other was getting. It was nice to see that cocky teasing acrobat getting a taste of his own medicine. 

"For your information-" Mike tried to come up with a comeback, but his mind was straying far with the fuel of Naib's words, distracting him so effectively that his tongue failed in his mouth. He waved his right hand over his face, eyes rolling as he continued. "Whatever. Thanks for helping, I guess. I hope you trip and fall, bye." He waved properly as he walked away from the door. Behind him, Naib shouted, "Bye, Loverboy!" followed by a snicker that had Mike dragging his hands over his face.  

Mike made another two hopeless trips to Eli and William in hopes of figuring himself out and was very disappointed when he came to the bottom of his list of people he'd willingly hold hands with- the last person being Norton himself. He made the wildest guess that the prospector was in his dorm room, so it would've been easy to go to his own room in a few steps. He went to the door and knocked once, and after a while of no response, he knocked again. He hummed, glancing down at the doorknob hesitantly before giving into his impulse to open the door which turned out to be unlocked. The room was dark, and the little light that shone onto the bed in view didn't do much to help Mike guess if the raven was sleeping or not, so he just closed the door and sighed. When he stepped back, he bumped into something- someone, actually, because the person's arms rose to secure him in an instinctive manner.

He didn't have much time to properly turn to look at the person as he instantly noticed the white gloves, heart rate instantly picking up from anxiety and embarrassment again as Naib's stupid comment couldn't leave his mind. "Norto-" He tried to casually say something but he choked on spit, moving his body off Norton's and lowered his shoulders as he coughed, hands propped on his knees as he caught himself before very awkwardly clearing his throat before facing the man again. "..Norton! Hey.. I was just looking for you..." He chuckled, pinching the edge of his shirt as he rocked on his heels. 

"I saw you peeping into my room." Norton smiled, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall. "How badly did you need to see me? Are you here to give your love confession?" 

The quote genuinely made Mike laugh loudly, easily letting go of any awkwardness he was feeling just a second prior. Right, him and Norton were friends and their friendship level was increasing steadily, especially after Norton helped distract him from his weird little flashback (if he could've called that a flashback, he wasn't sure). With a relaxed smile on both of their faces, it finally felt normal. The acrobat looked down at his wrist which was wrapped in bandages, before he opened and closed his hand idly. It no longer hurt, and it felt like he could do much more without complaining about pain- even though he didn't plan to do anything until Emily gave him a greenlight because he didn't want to cause any more damage to extend his time out of scheduled matches. 

"Sorry to disappoint but I don't that love confession is gonna come any time soon, Mister Campbell." Mike's head tilted slightly as he watched Norton feign disappointment. "However I did want to ask a favour, so are you up for it?"

The other's eyebrows furrowed but he nodded anyway. "You're asking me of all people to do you a favour? Don't make me do any physical labour, my time for that is gone." He said, tone joking but words holding truth. Norton only got another smile in reply, before a hand was stretched out to him, palm facing him. 

"If you consider holding my hand physical labour then I guess I'm out of luck, then," Mike shrugged, not moving his arm but biting down on his tongue when Norton didn't hesitate to let their hands touch, their fingers lacing naturally. The action was smooth and effortless, and though gloved, it felt like sparks tingling the back of his palm where his fingers rested, and those sparks travelled up Mike's arm and all over his body in an instant. He tried as hard as humanly possible to suppress the blush that fought its way up to his face, slowly finding the will to loosen his grip at the same time Norton gently swung their hands to a nonexistent rhythm. 

That blush didn't want to be suppressed, apparently. Mike's face and ears burned, and he turned his head down to avoid looking at Norton. He waited until the latter male let go before glancing up to meet the raven's dark eyes, feeling relief when he noticed how red his face was as well. The stare they held was stifling for a few seconds, before they simultaneously began chuckling lightly. "Right- that's all I needed. Thank you so much for helping me out, Norton, it was greatly appreciated." 

At the words, Norton physically deflated. That was all? He was expecting them to at least talk about how awkward them holding hands could've been or just have some other small talk- yet at the same time Mike seemed as if he really needed to be alone, in a way he couldn't find himself able to explain. He look fulfilled but he also looked like he wanted to throw the towel, and the latter assumption was supported by his dark circles that looked much darker without the sunlight on his face. "Oh, alright. Are you going to sleep now? You look like you need it."

Mike couldn't help sulking at the mention of sleep, considering he hasn't been able to do so without waking up on the ground or during the middle of the night, throat hurting and eyes burning- being the most physically affected during the last few days than ever before. He wished that he felt comfortable telling Norton, or any one of his friends in general, that sleeping was one of the hardest things possible for him. He could've told them, but he had a fear that they would pity him and feel bad or treat him differently and he did not want that. He'd much rather have them thinking he was the happiest person to ever walk the earth. Their time for knowing would come soon. With the violinist, it was just the need to have someone much more mature than him and probably much better cognitive ability than him to trust and talk to when he needed it.

He only gave a weak grin and answered. "I'll probably make some practice bombs until I'm tired. What about you?"

Norton wanted to pry and ask Mike if he wasn't already tired or if he got enough sleep, but his lips were already moving with a response to what he was asked. "I'll shower and sleep, yeah."

"Oh, cool! Then I'll get going, I don't want to take up your time." Mike said right after, waving and walking backwards, getting closer to his dorm in barely any time at all. Norton didn't move from where he stood as he watched the blonde reach his door and open it, waving at the prospector again before going inside. With a sigh and dissatisfaction with his hesitancy, Norton copied the acrobat and went into his dorm room. 

-

The room was cold where Mike stood. Cold and dull. A big, cold and dull room where the only light source was Mike himself, as though a bulb was floating above his head no matter where he moved. He made a full circle, seeing nothing but the shadows behind him and a little less in front of him- but what confused him is fact that the shadows behind him were growing larger despite him not walking forward. He barely had room to stop and wonder, because as it neared there was the very vivid image of hands reaching out for something, and Mike did not want to know what would happen if he was grabbed. 

Quickly, he turned his attention front again and tripped over his feet a few times before finding himself in a proper run, occasionally glancing back to see that it was very effectively creating a distance between him and the shadows. The actual issue was the fact that there was nothing in his view, even after running for as long as he did. No door or window or anything of the sort to get him away from the fear source of the hands not so far from him, which had his heart climbing into his throat. Without much of a choice, Mike continued running until his legs were burning from exertion. His pace slowed significantly and he could only focus on the rear, when he knocked into cold metal. His head throbbed, but he ignored it and looked forward again to be face to face with thick metal bars. 

His hands wrapped around them, pulling and pushing and sliding to try getting them out of the way but to no avail. He tried as best possible to look beyond them, looking around until his eyes landed on a seated figure against the wall. There was a large bunch of keys hooked to their pants, and there was no denying that it was his ticket out of the place. "Hey! Excuse me!" Mike shouted, hitting the metal bars as loudly as he could've to get the person's attention, and it worked as their head rose. Features shaded by a large hat so ugly it pained him to cry the first name that came to his mind. "Norton, is that you? Help me, please! Get me out of here! It's coming!"

"What? What's coming?" The prospector asked lazily, not budging from where he was seated. 

"Oh fuck, Norton! Just get up and get me out of here-!"