Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Mika grinned as he closed the car door. The concert had been amazing, enough said. It’s not every day one gets to perform in the Opéra Royal de Versailles – for once, he was confident about how a concert had gone, about his skills. Manuel had come with him, he’d been in the audience, watching his husband perform. The ambience of the whole performance, the whole audience – everything – had been amazing as always.

“How about we go to the hotel, hm, amorino?”

Mika looked over at his husband sitting in the driver’s seat and smiled, nodding. They’d turned this into a little holiday for the two of them, just a few days out of their usual lives, a little adventure. He fastened his seatbelt and turned the radio on. It was nice to be together like this after such a special night, after such a great performance.

Manuel’s hand rested on Mika’s knee gently, a sign of support, a sign of ‘I know how tired you are, I know how excited your brain is at the moment. Try and rest, amorino, you’ll be okay. I’m here.’ They could show the most elaborate messages with a simple touch, a simple look. Mika’s smile widened and he was about to doze off when the radio quietly, subtly interrupted him.

‘Elle me dit; écris une chanson contente, pas une chanson déprimante, une chanson que tout le monde aime…’

“Oh my god,” Manuel laughed, turning the volume up. “You’re famous, Meeks!”

“No shit, I just performed in the fucking Versailles Opera.” It was hilarious, a coincidence like this. It happened quite often that Mika’s songs were played on the French radio, there was a reason he was a French star, but it barely happened when he himself was actually listening to it. They both sang along to the lyrics happily, Mika more fluently than Manuel – obviously, it was his song, after all.

“Manu, you’re doing great, since when do you know French?” Mika joked, teasing his husband. Of course his husband knew French, how could he not – ever since he was in a relationship with him? They often teased each other about languages, since most of the time they spoke Italian to each other. Either Italian or English. Mika teased him about English and French, Manuel teased him back by correcting his Italian. It was a cycle they never seemed to get out of, and neither of them minded it.

“I married you for a reason, caro.”

“Ah oui, je sais… Je sais vraiment. Mon français est très attrayant.”

Manuel chuckled, nodding his head with a grin on his face. “Biensûr que oui…” he whispered jokingly.

They smiled at each other and enjoyed the moment, both of them quietly singing along to the radio. It was nice, simply being together as they were, after such a big moment like this. It gave Mika’s mind a chance to calm down, to process everything that had happened at the concert. When the song ended, Manuel put the volume of the radio down again, so that his husband could rest a bit.

Mika did eventually fall asleep. He wasn’t planning on it, and he only noticed when he was woken by Manuel, but he’d slept for a few hours. They were home now, it was way past midnight, but they were home. Finally, after five hours of driving.

“Come on, dolcezza, let’s get you inside, hm?”

Mika yawned and shook his head, rubbing his eyes. “No, no, it’s okay, I’ll get myself there, y’know.. I have feet, I can walk.” He opened the car door to show that he could walk himself over to the door, but his action failed; as soon as he stood up from his chair, his tired legs struggled to keep him upright.

“Hush, you,” Manuel said as he put an arm around his husband, helping him despite Mika’s earlier words. “I’m taking care of you here, not you. You must accept it, mon cher. Let me take care of you. Alright?”

Mika faintly nodded and smiled softly – how come his husband was always so sweet? It’d been almost four years and he was still clueless. “Speaking French now, are we?” He said softly, leaning into the touch.

“En effet, oui,” Manuel agreed as they walked to the front door together. He opened it for the both of them, and they stepped inside. “Go lie on the couch, I’ll get you a cup of tea.”

As Mika did like his husband suggested, Manuel walked to the kitchen, making his beloved a cup of his favourite tea. While he was filling the kettle, Mika’s phone – which was still laying on the kitchen counter, apparently he’d left it at home – started ringing. Manuel put the kettle down, looked who was calling and picked up.

“Hello, you’re speaking with Manuel.”

“Hi, Manuel, it’s Paloma. Uhm… Since you’re not Mika I will, eh, be honest now. Is he okay? Stable?”

Manuel frowned slightly, “He’s exhausted, laying on the couch right now, probably asleep. Why?”

He could hear Paloma breathe in shakily on the other side of the line. “Well, uh… I’ve got some horrible news. That I think he’d prefer to hear with you there. Can you go to him, actually? Put the phone on speaker.”

Manuel nodded – knowing she couldn’t see it, but still – and walked back to the living room where his husband was half asleep on the couch. “Mika, love? It’s Paloma, she wants to speak to you.”

Mika nodded and took the phone in his hands, sitting up. “Hi Pal, what’s going on? Are you alright?” He heard Paloma chuckle softly – not a genuine chuckle, more of a sad chuckle. It made him frown slightly. Normally she wouldn’t call right after a concert, knowing her brother needed some time to process everything. Now, she did, so something was wrong.

“Instantly picking up on these things, as always. God.. uhm, are you stable right now?”

“I guess so?” He said, worry in his voice. “Seriously, what’s going on? Is something wrong?”

“Yeah, uh, something is wrong. It’s bad. Very. Mum.. she.. she got unwell after the concert, she’s been taken to a hospital.”

Those words hit Mika like a truck. “Oh god. Oh my god- Oh jesus-..”

Manuel, who’d been listening along, frowned slightly and sat down next to his husband, resting a hand on his back for comfort. He knew how hard this was for his husband, their mother had been sick for years. During the heights of the Covid-19 crisis, they hadn’t been able to go out because of that, because Mika didn’t want to be infected by anyone in case he had to come over and help his mother – who he would be able to infect then.

“She’s somewhat stable, so the situation isn’t that worrisome..” Paloma continued, exhaustion obvious in her voice – she’d probably been worrying ever since the end of the concert. She sighed – Mika could mentally see her pinching the bridge of her nose, something she often did when stressed. “You.. you don’t.. if you don’t want to, you don’t have to come here. It’s alright..”

“No, no, we’re coming right away.”

“Are you sure? You really don’t have to-…”

Mika interrupted her. “We will come right away, she’s my mother, for god’s sake.”

The whole car ride was a blur for him. All Mika could do was stare out of the window, absently listening to the radio. Memories, lots of them, were haunting his mind. Memories of how he could have spent more time with her. Memories of how horrible she’d been to him – to them, to all of his siblings.

She was taken into the closest hospital in Versailles, since she’d attended the concert – finally she had been proud of her son, for once. She had seen him sing, while sitting in a wheelchair, and he’d even looked her right in the eyes a few times during the performance. He knew she’d been sick for years, but for it to happen so suddenly was surprising.

It took hours for them to get there, the sun had already risen. Mika had fallen asleep again, and when Manuel gently woke him up, he was hit with an all-consuming feeling pf overwhelm he couldn’t quite explain himself. They were standing in front of a hospital, and then he realized why they were here again. God, he didn’t want to be here.

Against all his senses, he stepped out of the car and walked into the hospital, tightly holding his husband’s hand. His anxiety became too much when he spotted his siblings standing there, waiting for him, all with a sad look on their faces. Paloma embraced him, and he broke down in her arms. it was all too much.

Paloma softly explained to him that her condition was so critical, they weren’t allowed to sit with her in the room. She told him about what happened exactly, how Joannie had struggled to do anything after the concert, and how she eventually became unconscious. Mika listened to it all, his head filling with terror, he did not want to lose his mother, not now that their relationship was finally improving.

“Ma’am? Sir?”

The soft voice of a nurse made them look up.

“I’m sorry to inform you this, but Mrs Penniman passed away. You may see her now, to say your final goodbyes.”

Chapter Text

At first it was easy. He could just ignore it all happened. He was in denial of the whole situation while knowing that only made it harder on the ones around him. He didn’t want to let everything show. If he would show his emotions, he knew for sure he would break permanently. He allowed no-one close to him, not even his husband. Manuel tried to help his boy, tried to help him cope since he knew what this all was like, but if he’d try that only more hurt would be spread.

“Mika, dolcezza,” Manuel would say, laying a loving hand on his shoulder, “you have to take care of yourself…”

His lover had been ignoring his own health for days now. It was stressing Manuel out, all the things happening – and not happening. He didn’t want to lose his Mika, not again. He wouldn’t lose him. Not even with every gentle touch turning into a fight. He was hoping for his boy’s breaking point, the moment he’d let go of his hard shell, because then Manuel could actually help him. Then, he could help him glue back together his scattered pieces. Now all he could do was try and get through the shell of emotions.

“I’m alright, thank you, Manuel.”

Denial. All of it was denial. He was ignoring his needs for the sake of building more and more of the wall around himself. It was a defense mechanism, obviously. It was what he used to do when they were on break, as well. Manuel could sense it from everything. The way Mika wouldn’t relax when they were lying in bed, the way his whole body tensed up if he left a soft kiss on his forehead, the way he would gently push him away with a forced smile. They’d been at their normal lives, Mika was working on his albums and tour, Manuel was working on an album with his band as well. The only people who noticed something was off were the ones close to them. Mika was less clingy, less vulnerable, and Manuel was less loving, more like how he had been back when his mental health was worse. They weren’t close to each other anymore, a gap had grown between them. Only they knew what it was.

One morning, when Manuel tried to get him to talk about his feelings, the inevitable happened. He should’ve known this would happen at a point, since this had been going on for some weeks now and grieving was a process, a process with stages – yet, it still hurt him like a ton of bricks. The coldness was replaced with something else. Something he couldn’t quite face yet, since he’d been through so much together with his husband, grieving with him, feeling the loss of a part of his beloved.

“Amorino, you really have to talk to someone. Call Judy, please. I promise she can help you.”

The piercing sound of Mika putting down his cup with too much aggression rang through the kitchen, and he flinched. “Shut up!” His boy said, on his face a cold, stoic expression. “I won’t talk with Judy, she’d only make things worse. So do you. Always trying to make me speak, fuck you. I’m fine! I’m totally okay! So stop this, stop forcing me into shit. Please.” When Manuel nodded softly, Mika stood up so quickly his chair fell over. “Thank you. I’ll be upstairs.” 

The sound of the kitchen door slamming and his boy running up the stairs were distant, the only present thing were the feelings of agony he left him with, alone. That’s how he felt – lonely. He knew he was arrogant to feel that way, since it wasn’t his mother that had died, yet he grieved together with Mika, somehow. He’d only met Joannie once, and that meeting hadn’t been nice in the slightest. He knew, however, how much the woman meant to Mika and his siblings. It wasn’t the loss of a parent he was grieving about, though. It was the loss of his boy’s happiness – Mika’s whole world was crushed to its core, and as his husband, he could feel it as well.

It was days later, and they had long since moved past that incident. The only problem was that a few more had happened, and Manuel was slowly getting exhausted. He didn’t know how long he could endure seeing his boy this badly hurt, but he was reaching the end of his abilities. At least they could now sit in the same room without at least one of them feeling hurt just by being close to the other. Mika had made himself a cup of coffee, and was standing at the kitchen counter. Manuel was sitting at the table, reading the newspaper.

The sound of Mika putting down his coffee cup a bit louder than normal distracted him, and he looked up from the newspaper. He then heard crying, soft crying. Mika had broken. He stood up from his chair, carefully approaching his husband.

“Hey, love… Can I hug you?”

Mika nodded, and Manuel couldn’t be quicker to wrap his arms around his dearest, who answered the hug and sobbed into his neck. They stood like that for a long while, bodies wrapped around each other in the middle of the kitchen, the only sounds being Mika’s soft sobs and Manuel’s reassuring whispers. Some detail of familiarity was back between them, their dynamic was a bit more normal.

“W-What if… She hadn’t d-died…?” His broken voice sounded as if it hadn’t been used for days. “I mean… I know she wasn’t great for me. I know she traumatized me, I know she traumatized my whole family… but she had struggles herself. And she never got help for those.” He sighed softly, and continued in a small voice. “Which is basically my fault…”

“How could that ever be your fault?” Manuel looked him in the eyes, a gentle gaze, trying to reassure him after many days, many weeks of ignorance. It was like he could breathe again. “You’re her child, you shouldn’t be responsible for that. You shouldn’t be the one taking care of your parents, the roles should be reversed. I know she wasn’t the best mother, and I know it might hurt to say this, but don’t feel like you had to take care of her.” He tightened his arms around Mika, hoping the message would come across. “Trust me. I lost my father, yet I am still here. I know how you feel. I know what this is all like. I want to help you, caro…”

“Thank you,” Mika said, relaxing in the embrace as he tried to calm his breathing. Manuel noticed this, and helped him by giving him a breathing exercise, something to follow. When his boy requested to move upstairs, to their bed, so he could lie down comfortably, he wasn’t one to object. Mika, like he’d predicted, eventually calmed down.

It took a while, only when he was lying in bed with his weighed blanket and Manuel’s arms around him. It was late in the evening, but he’d actually calmed down. He’d talked to Manuel about how the first weeks he felt nothing at all, sometimes this weird sudden flame of anger, but that was it. His husband understood it – really, he did, he’d felt the same way when his father died. The whole rollercoaster Mika had gone through, Manuel had gone through the same thing.

“Mika?” Manuel whispered when his husband had been silent for a while, “Are you asleep?”

The soft snoring he was answered with made him grin.

“Alright. Goodnight, amore.”

Chapter Text

It had only been a few days since Mika had allowed his husband close to him again when he pushed something else away. At first, Manuel couldn’t recognize what it was. He just thought Mika was being usually tired and grumpy. However, soon, it was too obvious to play off as a usual mood switch. Most days, he barely had the energy to get out of bed anymore, he only ate what Manuel would bring to him – otherwise he didn’t, he neglected anything that would fall under the category of self-care. He didn’t have any energy, he felt drained and hopeless, some days all he could do was stare at the ceiling in bed and cry. Obviously, Manuel stayed with him during it all. But it was starting to take its toll on him, too, once again.

Seeing his boy in this state was a torture. He wanted him to feel good, he wanted him to be happy. He knew he couldn’t magically fix it all, however, which made it even more difficult. He would take away all his pain if he could, he would even take it all over to himself if it would make his beloved feel better. He knew exactly how Mika felt, though, and he knew what had made him feel better back then. When his father died, Rodrigo stayed with him for days, doing the most basic things for him because he couldn’t – all he could do was lie in bed, be depressed and grieve.

“Dearest,” Manuel came into the room, holding a plate of dinner, “I know getting out of bed is hard, so I’m not going to ask you to do so. But I have some food here, okay?”

“I’m not hungry, Manu…”

Manuel sighed and sat down next to his boy in bed. “This is the first thing you’ll eat today. I know how you feel, tesoro. I know how hard this shit is, honestly. I want to help you, amore. I really want to. So,” He set the plate down, “if you don’t want to eat, at least tell me how you feel. Tell me what’s bothering you, tell me what your brain is telling you.”

Mika sighed softly, leaning his head against Manuel’s shoulder. For some reason, the sigh sounded empty, numb. Like he didn’t know what he felt, like he didn’t know what to say. “I… I miss her, Manu. I miss her so much, but I feel so bad for doing so, since she was the worst mother I could’ve wished for, yet… I miss her. I miss her so damned much. I don’t want to be in contact with anyone of my family right now, it hurts too much…”

Joannie hadn’t been the best mother. Quite the opposite, really. She was the most horrible mother, especially with an autistic son. He was always babied or treated as not-quite-a-person. It was frustrating to have to face every day, and it could be traumatizing. Sometimes, no-one was able to explain why she did something, why she yelled at him, why she hated him so much. Of course, she didn’t actually hate him, but that was what he thought until his late teenage years. He only then figured out she didn’t hate him, since when he gained success in the music scene, she started showing more and more love. However, that all disappeared again when he came out to her, always telling him he should ‘just marry a woman, then you won’t have any of those shitty problems.’

He knew that, despite all this, he she was still his mother, and so obviously he felt a weird sense of connection he wouldn’t have with anyone else. That was what he missed. He missed the feeling of having a mother, he missed the good memories. It wasn’t like suddenly, now that she was dead, all of Joannie’s actions were seen as ‘good’ and ‘normal’. Obviously not.

Manuel was trying to help his husband with coping, but he knew his boy needed to be with other people who understood him, who even understood his husband more than he ever could, he knew that leaving his current environment would do him good. When his father had died, it’d helped him tons that Rodrigo would push him over and over again to see his  family again. So, that was exactly what he did, knowing it was getting a bit annoying slowly. That was the whole point.

“Mika, darling, please visit your family. They miss you, you know?”

It took Mika weeks to eventually choose to visit them, and when they arrived, he immediately regretted not having been there earlier. The family was torn, broken, not themselves. Yasmine let them into the house – Joannie’s house – where they’d all stayed for the past month. So much had changed, even Fortuné didn’t know what to say. Mika felt like an outsider, his siblings had only grown closer over time, while he’d pushed everyone away. They were all sitting in the living room, a stressed silence hanging in the air. Eventually, it was interrupted by Mika softly crying from the pressure of it all. He didn’t want to show them all his emotions, but his body betrayed him.

Yasmine put a careful hand on her brother’s shoulder, who leaned against her and sniffled softly. “I’m… I’m so sorry for not having been here. I thought I was better off without you all in this period, since.. any interaction with things that reminded me of mum was… is.. painful. It just hurts…”

The oldest sister nodded understandingly. “I get that, don’t worry. We don’t blame you, in any way whatsoever. We already thought it was something like that, that your brain was making the wrong decisions again. But, please, Mika, know this. She’s gone now. She’s left us, she’s not here anymore. We can’t change that. Okay?”

Mika nodded, a few tears still trickling down his cheeks. He still felt guilty, but at least his family was there to stop him from lying to himself and to make some sense of the chaos in his head. At least he was still here, to experience things. At least they were still together, at least they were still close. At least his family didn’t push him away like he’d done with them for weeks.

The silence that had filled the room was broken by Fortuné, who looked at his brother and asked the ‘banned question’, the question that had to be asked and no-one felt like asking. It was acknowledging she was truly gone, something they all found quite hard, still. Even Yasmine, who had said the same thing to Mika. Everyone was having a hard time with the whole situation, everyone knew what the other was going through. “So, ehm, Mika,” He started, clearing his throat to clear up his voice, “since there’s obviously a funeral, uh.. will you speak at the funeral? Since, well.. We all will, but if it’s too hard for you, you don’t have to. We just need to know, kind of…”

Silence once again filled the room. Mika hated that he had to, but he did, truly, have to think about if he’d do it. He was scared he wouldn’t know what to say, that he wouldn’t know how to even get words from his mouth. He knew, and so did his siblings, that his emotions were what they all felt, but amplified about a thousand times. It was very considerate of them to realise that. And so, Mika eventually nodded, taking a deep breath.

“Of course I will, she’s my mother.”