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Arthur has only been gone for four days, and Micah would never admit it, but he kind of misses him. With Arthur around, he can pass the time playing Five Finger Fillet, watching Arthur fish, or getting drunk together, not to mention the sex and actually standing a chance of sleeping at night with Arthur next to him. But without him, Micah doesn’t know what to do with himself. Plus, this infuriating jealousy keeps gnawing at the back of his mind because the person Arthur went on his days-long job with is none other than Charles Smith. And Micah sees the way Smith acts around his Cowpoke, his paranoia expecting Arthur to cheat on him with Smith whenever his back is turned.
So it’s fair to say Micah’s mood has dropped since Arthur left. And when Micah feels bad, he has always enjoyed pissing people off to drag them down with him. Arthur hates him doing it, and Micah has made genuine efforts not to use slurs, but he can still be an asshole without going that far. And if Arthur wants him to behave, he shouldn’t have fucked off with his ‘friend’ and left Micah all alone.
So, by day two without Arthur, Micah starts slipping into old habits. Rather than minding his own business or offering to play table games with the others, Micah acts a lot like his old self and starts picking on others in camp until they feel as shitty as him. And it’s very effective. Over the course of a couple of days, Micah gets slapped by Abigail for trying to teach her kid swearwords, he upsets Swanson by bullying him about his addiction, and he pisses off Molly by telling her Dutch doesn’t love her anymore. And even when he just sits or stands around camp, Micah snaps at anyone who greets him.
All in all, camp morale has fallen in only a couple of days, just because Micah is in a bad mood—and that small fact manages to bring a smile to Micah’s face. But it’s a hollow smile.
He just wants Arthur back.
---
Sadie watches Micah snarl at Trelawny for daring to say hello, sighing. Ever since he got with Arthur back at Horseshoe Overlook (Sadie can’t see the appeal, but Arthur seems happy with the lunatic), Micah has acted less like the bastard who burned down her house, and more like an antisocial but sort-of likeable man who limits his behavior to playful comments rather than spitting slurs. In fact, despite hating him, Sadie has played Five Finger Fillet with Micah a few times. Which makes it even more annoying to see him acting like such an asshole the past few days.
She tries to ignore him, but after she catches Micah telling Jack his father doesn’t love him, Sadie’s anger boils over. Without Arthur here to tell him off, nobody is going to do anything about Micah. Thinking of how the coward picks on people for their flaws and fears, perhaps Micah deserves a taste of his own medicine. But what to torment him about?
And then it hits her: Micah has a surprisingly fat stomach. His shirt does a decent job of obscuring it, but when viewed from the right angle, Micah can’t hide his ugly, round gut. Yeah, that seems the best bet.
So Sadie walks over to where Micah sharpens his knife near the campfire, ready to discover how he likes somebody tearing into his flaws.
“Hey there, Micah,” she says, dropping onto a log across from him.
“’lo, Mrs. Adler,” Micah mumbles without looking up, dragging his perfectly sharp knife across the whetstone again and again.
When not ignoring her, Micah always manages to sound weirdly polite when talking to Sadie, and she is one of very few people in camp Micah never bothers to pick on. Perhaps he’s scared of the woman who tried to stab him when they first met; that seems accurate for a coward like Micah Bell. Never mind she only tried to stab him because he thought chasing her around the room was funny.
“Do you sit hunched over like that for a reason, or d’you just like hidin’ your belly from view?” she asks.
Micah doesn’t look at her, but his knife slips against the whetstone, almost cutting his thumb. It seems her question caught him off guard. Eventually, like he spent all that time thinking of a response, Micah snorts. “Well, that might be the weirdest question I’ve ever gotten.”
Commenting on his belly will only work if Micah is insecure about it, so Sadie probes deeper, needing to know if his fat stomach bothers him or not. “I only asked ‘cause… if I had such an ugly stomach, I’d wanna hide it.”
This time, his head snaps up. The brim of his hat obscures his eyes, but Sadie notices the tension in his jaw. Putting his knife away, Micah stands up, glaring down at her. “Such a ray of sunshine, ain’t you?” he says, and he walks off.
Well, now she knows for certain. The big, bad Micah Bell is self-conscious about his fat gut. So, with that in mind, Sadie hopes she can discourage Micah from picking on the rest of the gang. And even if he doesn’t, at least she’ll get to see the cocky bastard squirm.
---
Wandering back into camp after his round of guard duty, Sean gets distracted on his way to find Karen to pass the responsibility onto her. Micah stalks away from the campfire, leaving a furious Bill sat there, whilst Cain runs around camp barking. But before Micah can walk away from whatever he did, Sadie walks up to him, arms folded.
“What d’you want, sweetheart?” Micah says, spitting out the term of endearment.
“Does scarin’ the dog away make you feel like a big man?” Sadie says, glaring up at him.
“Oh for…” Micah sighs heavily. “Why’s everyone so goddamn okay with that parasite runnin’ around camp? Why’re we wastin’ food on a mangy mutt exactly?”
“Hey, if anyone’s waistin’ food around here, it’s you, Micah,” Sadie says, and her gaze lingers on his stomach.
“Get fucked, you bitch,” Micah snarls, his hands twitching at his sides. Just when Sean worries that Micah genuinely might try to shoot her, Micah sighs and stalks off.
Sean approaches Sadie, who chuckles to herself.
“What was that about?” he asks.
“You know how he’s been actin’ like an asshole since Arthur left?” Sadie says, watching Micah lean against the tree near his and Arthur’s tent.
“Tell me ‘bout it,” Sean says. In the few days since Arthur and Charles left on a job that will take them all the way up to the Van Horn Trading Post, Micah has gradually started to act like he used to, constantly spitting out venom for no reason but his own amusement. “And Arthur ain’t even here to kick him up the arse.”
“Obviously, he won’t just stop if we ask him to, and Dutch barely gives a shit how Micah behaves, so I thought…” Sadie grins. “I’d give him a taste of his own medicine.”
“What, you’re pickin’ on him back?” Sean snorts. “You know, that ain’t a bad idea.”
“I know, right. If bein’ bullied makes him feel like shit, perhaps Micah might, y’know, stop doin’ the same to the rest of us.” Sadie tucks her thumbs into her waistband, looking up at him. “If you wanna help, he’s not too fond of his belly. Use that how you wish.”
Sean nods, before remembering he needs to find Karen and rushing off to see her.
But he keeps Sadie’s words in mind, wondering if a few simple comments really can make the bastard behave himself.
Later that day, when Sean catches Micah being an asshole again, he decides to give it a try. As Micah annoys John, making a joke about animals usually eating John when John just tries to eat his stew, Sean walks up to the pair. John glares at Micah, clearly offended by Micah making light of the wolf attack that nearly killed him (yes, Sean has done that too, but John could tell Sean was only playing with him… he hopes).
“C’mon, Micah, quit tryin’ to make Marston lose his appetite so you can stuff down his bowlful too,” Sean says, putting a hand on Micah’s shoulder.
Micah slaps his hand away. “Shut it, kid. Why’d I wanna touch a spoon John’s had in his mouth?”
“Fuck off, Micah,” John mutters.
“Well, I mean, it’s just kinda obvious you ain’t picky about what you eat,” Sean says, winking at John as he gestures to Micah’s abdomen. “You obviously like eatin’, or you wouldn’t have such a belly on you.”
John chuckles, going back to his food.
“Ooh, how funny, Sean,” Micah drawls, glaring at him. “How long did you take to think that up? A year?”
“It was only a joke, Micah,” Sean says, echoing something Micah has said when being caught saying or doing cruel things.
Micah snarls at him, barging Sean with his shoulder before walking off to sulk. Well, that was a success.
---
By the evening, with Sadie and Sean barging in whenever he wants to annoy people, Micah realizes their game. They have obviously noticed his… issue with his stomach, and think it would be funny to pick on him whenever they catch him doing it to others. He assumed being a good boy would make the comments stop, so after yet another comment about his belly, Micah can’t be bothered to walk around annoying people anymore.
And he was right; Sean has left him alone since they spoke in front of John, and even Sadie didn’t bother him once he left everyone alone. At least, that is what he thinks until he wanders over to the chuckwagon. Micah never eats in front of people, instead preferring to grab snacks and eat them somewhere private. But he doesn’t even get that far, instead freezing when he picks up an apple, because…
“Are you sure you need that?” Sadie says, appearing at his side. When Micah glances at her, he sees something unknown sparkling in her eyes; perhaps she is reveling in getting revenge, tormenting Micah as punishment for all the shit he has done. In a way, Sadie reminds Micah of himself—a person who went through trauma and came out of it violent and vindictive—because her warped enjoyment in messing with Micah looks similar to his face when he bullies people.
Micah tosses the apple upwards and catches it out of the air, glaring at her. “It’s for Baylock,” he lies, but it could easily be true—Micah regularly takes snacks from the chuckwagon to feed his horse, despite Pearson insisting he get horse supplies from the stables like everyone else. This time, though, the apple was for him. He hasn’t eaten since lunchtime, his stomach rumbling—it seems all the comments about his belly got under his skin more than he wants to admit, and Micah didn’t realize he had put off eating all day until his guts cramped with hunger.
“Sure it is,” Sadie says, eyebrows raised.
To prove his fake point, Micah turns and begins walking towards the hitching posts, but he stops dead when Sadie speaks.
As though wanting to make him suffer like she did, Sadie adds, “I dunno what Arthur sees in you.”
Micah forces a bitter laugh. “And I dunno what that’s got to do with you.”
Sadie chuckles, and this whole encounter is like looking at his own reflection. Just like when he bullies people, Sadie’s words gouge deeper and deeper, waiting for the person to snap.
“I was just wonderin’ how he can bear to touch a body like… that,” she says, gesturing towards his stomach. “If I was him, I’d leave you.”
And that was the last straw. His hands shaking, anger wells up inside him, and he raises a hand, about to smack her across the face—
“Micah!”
Hearing one of the only two voices he listens to him camp, Micah freezes with his hand in the air. Dutch storms towards them, so Micah holds both his hands out in a placating gesture, turning to face Dutch rather than Sadie.
“Son, what d’you think you’re doin’?!” Dutch says, putting himself between the pair.
“This ain’t what it looks like, Boss,” Micah says. Noticing how visibly his hands tremble, Micah stuffs them into his pockets.
“Are you sure about that? ‘Cause it looked like you were about to hit Mrs. Adler.” Dutch sighs, his anger fading into weariness and disappointment. “Micah, I expected better from you.”
Too furious to continue sucking up to Dutch, Micah just mumbles a hollow apology and stalks off. Able to hear Dutch talking to Sadie behind him, Micah hurries towards the hitching posts. Not wanting to eat the apple anymore, Micah walks over to Baylock, who is no longer at the hitching post Micah left him at, instead now eating hay at the feeding point by the scout fire.
Ignoring the way the O’Driscoll glances at him (Micah never bothers picking on Kieran, but the kid is scared of him regardless), Micah approaches his horse, pulling the apple from his pocket. Sometimes he’ll have little conversations with Baylock, but with Kieran stood sat so close by, Micah settles with a whispered, “Here, boy,” and holds out the apple to his stallion. Obviously liking apples more than hay, Baylock snatches it straight out of Micah’s hand, huffing in thanks.
With that out of the way, his anger refusing to die down, Micah sighs and shuts himself inside his and Arthur’s tent. He sinks onto the bed, wrapping his arms around himself, unable to get Sadie’s words out of his head. As his jealousy towards Charles shows, Micah often gets paranoid that Arthur doesn’t really like him or will leave him, and Sadie’s words just added more fuel to the pathetic fire inside of him. His stomach rumbles again, but Micah just squeezes himself tighter, trying to ignore the hunger. He may be starving hungry, but Micah doesn’t want to eat.
Shit, this is like back then, isn’t it? In the months after his father died, Micah’s mental state fell apart, torn between gratitude that his hateful father was dead, and despising the loneliness he felt without anyone to run with. He felt so infuriatingly helpless, everything spiraling out of control, which was then Micah found something he could control: his weight. He had never exactly liked his body, but that was when he began to hate how he looked, and all too soon he was skipping meals to lose the weight. But things quickly went much further than that, leaving Micah extremely sick and wishing for the stability of life with his father. And right now, as he sits in his tent, paranoid his partner will abandon someone as disgusting as him, the despair he feels does indeed remind him of a few years ago. Why must he be so pathetic?
He tries to sleep, but Micah is an insomniac at the best of times, so he doesn’t hold his breath. But even without his sleep problems, it would be hard to sleep with his brain churning with thoughts and his stomach cramping with hunger.
Still, he stays in the tent for several hours, at first trying and failing to sleep, but eventually sitting up on the bed and cleaning his guns. But the hunger won’t stop clawing at him, until it is impossible to ignore.
Sighing, Micah creeps out of the tent, glad to find he is the only one awake at this time of night. He approaches the chuckwagon and, after glancing around to check nobody watches him, Micah begins to fill his pockets. He hasn’t eaten in twelve hours, the rumbles in his stomach genuinely painful, so Micah takes far more food than he normally would, cramming his jacket and pants pockets with item after item. If Sadie were watching (and perhaps she is; fuck, why must he be so paranoid?), she would probably say something cruel, but without Dutch around to stop him, he’d just smack her around the face for it.
Still fearing being watched, Micah decides to ride out of camp to eat. But as he approaches Baylock, Micah spots his saddlebags, and gets an idea that makes his pathetic heart race. With his saddlebags in hand, Micah returns to the chuckwagon and fills those with food too. Is he really planning on eating all of this? Jesus, he’s such a pig. No wonder Arthur is going to cheat on him.
Genuinely convinced someone is going to wake up, Micah returns to Baylock and quickly saddles him up. And then he rides out of camp, not wanting anyone to see him being so weak and useless.
Once he finds a suitable spot, Micah hops down from Baylock and sits down with his back against a tree. He keeps Baylock nearby, hoping his good boy will alert him if anyone tries sneaking up on him, and pulls a tin of fruit from his pocket.
He doesn’t want to eat it—if he doesn’t eat he might finally lose his disgusting belly—but if he starves himself for too long, he’ll risk fainting in public or something equally humiliating. Knowing his father would laugh if he could see Micah now (trembling because he’s goddamn scared of eating something), Micah forces the food into his mouth. But once he swallows, his empty stomach finally filling with food, Micah feels that horribly familiar switch flip in his brain. And just like back then, he loses control.
By the time Micah comes back to himself, his overfull stomach aches, his fingers are sticky with syrup, and food makes a foul mess of his facial hair. All four of his pockets are empty, wrappers and cans littering his legs and the ground around him, and intense shame begins to build up inside of him.
Not again, he thinks. How difficult is it to eat like a normal person, you goddamn pathetic fool?
This is just like a few years ago, when starving himself led to a total loss of self-control when he finally let himself eat. His stomach strains, and when Micah looks down, his stomach seems to swell against his shirt worse than ever, and he groans.
What if Arthur could see you now? That Adler bitch is right; he should leave you. Just like everyone else leaves you.
He can’t let his body digest all this food. Who knows how much fatter he’ll end up from eating so much?
So, even though he knows he’s repeating the cycle he was trapped in years ago, Micah makes a frantic, stupid decision. Hunching forwards on his knees, one hand braced against the ground, Micah takes a deep breath and pushes his sticky fingers into his mouth. Screwing his eyes up, he shoves his fingers right to the back of his throat, his whole body flinching when he retches. He does it again, heaving so hard his eyes water.
And then, finally, it happens. Vomit rises in his throat, and he barely has time to remove his fingers before he throws up hard, the contents of his swollen stomach spilling all over the ground.
When it is over, Micah shudders for breath, his throat burning, his stomach aching and shivers running through his body. And he wonders if it’s possible to look more pathetic than this.
(Probably not.)
---
Five whole days after they left, Arthur and Charles finally return to camp. It was a long, long trip, but their information was sound, and the robbery landed them well over one thousand dollars. As they wander into camp, ready to tell Dutch the good news, Arthur finds himself glancing around for Micah.
His partner isn’t exactly a sociable man, preferring to keep to himself, but Arthur is used to spotting Micah stood or sat at various places around camp, usually cleaning his weapons for the millionth time that day. And he saw Kieran taking care of Baylock, so Micah must still be in camp… so where is he?
After depositing his earnings and accepting Dutch’s enthusiastic praise, Arthur continues searching camp for Micah. Camp is pretty busy in midmornings, so Arthur checks the outskirts, expecting Micah to hide away from the more crowded spots. But none of Micah’s favorite places to be antisocial have results either, and Arthur sighs.
So he walks up to the first person he sees, Sean, and asks, “Hey, you seen Micah?”
“Um, not for a couple hours,” Sean says. “I think he was out all night, ‘cause rode into camp really early. He’s still sulkin’, though, so I dunno where he snuck off to after that.”
“Why was he sulkin’?” Arthur says. The night before Arthur left, Micah kept moaning that he was going to be lonely without Arthur around, but he was only joking. Right?
“After you left, he started actin’ like a right arsehole—”
“For God’s sake,” Arthur mutters.
Micah has been a lot better behaved these past few months, especially after he and Arthur began their relationship, but he occasionally has bad days and proceeds to annoy people (although even his bad days are nothing like his normal days in the past; Arthur hasn’t heard Micah use a slur in months, nor does he threaten gang members with death ‘for a joke’). But Arthur always tells him off and punishes him by withholding sex, and Micah will eventually offer a begrudging apology. Can Arthur not turn his back on Micah for a few days without Micah immediately misbehaving? He genuinely loves Micah Bell, but the asshole drives him insane sometimes.
Sean chuckles. “Tell me about it.”
“So he was bein’ a jerk…?”
“Oh, yeah!” Sean says, remembering what he was talking about. “So Sadie came up with a plan to make him stop it: givin’ him a taste of his own medicine.”
“By doin’ what exactly?” Arthur asks.
“Well, he likes pickin’ on insecurities, right? And Sadie worked out Micah don’t like his belly, so—”
“What?!” Arthur growls, and Sean jumps about a foot in the air.
Arthur is the only person Micah ever told about it, so it makes sense only Arthur understands the severity of those words. After asking why Micah never took his shirt off during sex, Micah got incredibly defensive, and when he got drunk a few hours later, he admitted to hating his body. Much later, after finally letting Arthur see his belly, Micah told Arthur that a few years earlier, he had some sort of breakdown after his father died, and became so obsessed with his body he ended up in a circle of starving himself, overeating when he finally ate and then feeling weak and making himself throw up. Micah said he only stopped when he fell in with a couple of guys, and from the way his heart fluttered all the time, the habit probably would have killed him if he kept it up for much longer.
“What’s the matter, Arthur?” Sean asks.
“Did y’all really think that’s a good idea?!” Arthur snaps. “You don’t stop a bully by gettin’ down to his level!”
“Jesus, Morgan, what crawled up your arse?” Sean says, genuinely confused by Arthur’s reaction.
But Arthur isn’t about to explain; he swore to Micah he would keep his secret. Even without knowing Micah’s past, though, Arthur still has a point—bullying is always wrong, and nobody deserves it, including the bully. He hates the phrase, but bullying and bully really does lower you to their level.
“I ain’t in the mood for this right now,” Arthur says, and he storms off, doubling his efforts to locate Micah. He dreads to think what Micah might have done.
Arthur checks around their tent (actually Arthur’s tent, and Micah doesn’t use it much thanks to his insomnia, but from all the times they’ve slept together—in both senses of the word—Arthur views it as a shared tent), sighing when he finds no sign of his partner.
“Herr Morgan,” comes a familiar voice. Arthur turns on the spot, watching Strauss stand up from his desk at the medicine wagon.
“Mister Strauss, I’m kinda busy here,” Arthur says, not in the mood for a chat.
“I know that. Are you looking for Mister Bell?” Strauss asks.
Arthur flinches, but hurries towards Strauss. “Why? You seen him?”
“Ja. About half-an-hour before you arrived, I saw him heading into the woods on foot,” Strauss says, pointing behind him with his thumb, “in that direction. He was carrying his saddlebags over his shoulder, and he looked… unhappy.”
Arthur fights the urge to grimace. “Thanks, Mister Strauss.”
And before Strauss can say anything else, Arthur hurries off in hope of finding Micah. He all but runs out of camp, and once he enters the woods, Arthur stares down at the ground, trying to focus like Charles taught him—because, to Arthur’s surprise, he learned he can track humans too. Sure enough, Arthur notices a set of human footprints swerving deeper into the woods and follows after it. As he walks, following the trail that must be Micah’s, Arthur starts noticing empty food cans and chocolate wrappers carelessly discarded on the forest floor, and that dread inside him keeps building.
And then, to his horror, he hears a disgusting noise: the sound of a person retching on an object jammed into their mouth. And he already knows who makes the sound, but Arthur still flinches when he finds Micah Bell sat on his knees behind a tree with his hand in his mouth, gagging on his own fingers.
Even whilst making such awful noises (is he struggling to set his gag reflex off?), Micah seems hypervigilant, jumping violently as Arthur approaches. Unfortunately, the hard flinch jams his fingers further down his throat, and Micah heaves violently. As he tries to turn around, eyes widening upon noticing a person behind him, Micah finally makes himself sick, throwing up all over the floor.
Despite being hunched in on himself, vomiting violently, Micah still tries to stand up and run away. But Arthur grabs him, forcing Micah back to his knees, and Micah stops resisting when Arthur begins rubbing circles against his heaving back.
“It’s just me,” Arthur says, using his free hand to tuck Micah’s hair behind his ears. Conscious of Micah’s anxiety, he whispers, “Nobody else is here, and I ain’t gonna tell anyone. Promise.”
That seems to calm Micah a little, letting himself lean against Arthur as he keeps being sick. Now Arthur notices, his partner seems to be bringing up a massive amount of vomit, and Arthur assumes Micah ate far too much. Yeah, this sounds exactly like the stories Micah told him. Shit.
After several minutes of listening to Micah gag and splutter, rubbing his back and trying not to feel sick at the horrible smell, Arthur’s partner finally seems to empty his stomach. Coughing and spitting, Micah hangs his head and groans, dragging in deep, shaky breaths. Noticing the way Arthur watches him, Micah turns his head away.
“Feelin’ better now?” Arthur asks.
“D-Don’t patronize me, Morgan,” Micah mutters, his voice hoarse from throwing up so much. “We both know I ain’t sick.”
Arthur doesn’t know how to respond to that. So he just keeps rubbing Micah’s back, trying to soothe his partner; after all, Arthur knows how awful he feels after being sick, so Micah must feel like shit too.
He wants to get Micah a drink of water, but he left his water canteen on his saddle, and Arthur doesn’t want to let Micah out of his sight. So he compromises by fishing a bottle of gin out of his saddle, offering it to Micah. Micah doesn’t speak, but nods his thanks, swilling the alcohol around his mouth and spitting it out, before taking a drink. He grimaces, the alcohol burning his sore throat, but Arthur hopes it lessened the foul taste on his tongue.
“C’mon, let’s move over there,” Arthur says, pointing to a nearby tree that isn’t right in front of a puddle of vomit. “Then we can talk.”
Micah doesn’t resist, letting Arthur haul him to his wobbly feet and steer him through the woods. Thinking of times they cuddled in the past (Micah would deny he ever ‘cuddled’ Arthur, but they both know the touch-starved fool adores hugging him in private), Arthur sits down with his back against a tree and his legs spread, and gestures for Micah to sit down.
His partner stares down at him, avoiding eye contact and obviously hesitating. But even without eye contact, Arthur still gets a good look at Micah’s face, and his chest aches deeply at the sight. Because Micah may be a jerk who apparently slipped back into old habits the moment Arthur left him alone, and he may still be trigger-happy and prone to under-planning jobs and causing massive problems, but he is still the man Arthur fell in love with. And despite his obvious flaws, Micah has genuinely tried so hard to change in these past few months and has been a surprisingly good partner to Arthur—and no matter how he has behaved these last few days, Micah doesn’t deserve to feel like this.
And, holy shit, he really does look awful. His eyes dart around, avoiding looking at Arthur, but Arthur catches glimpses of watery, bloodshot eyeballs behind swollen eyelids. His face is drenched in sweat, skin horribly pale except for his cheeks, which flush red from the effort of being sick. And his facial hair is a mess of saliva and stomach acid, and his bottom lip quivers as Micah clenches his jaw.
“Oh, fine…” Micah mutters, and he sighs and sits down. He sits between Arthur’s thighs, back resting against Arthur’s chest, and he lets out a shaky breath as Arthur wraps his arms around his chest, hugging Micah tightly. “Always was a clingy bastard, weren’t you, M-Morgan?” he says, trying so hard to sound cocky as he teases Arthur.
Arthur just sighs, feeling Micah’s body tremble against him. “Micah… I think I know what happened.”
Micah’s heavy breathing hitches. “I… I doubt that, Cowpoke.”
“So this ain’t related to the stuff Sadie’s been sayin’ to you?” Arthur says, making sure to sound as calm as possible.
He expects Micah to make another escape attempt, but Micah just sighs, going limp in his arms. “Shit… everything’s so shit, Arthur,” he moans, and Arthur has never heard Micah Bell sound so… broken.
“Micah… please tell me what happened,” Arthur whispers, pressing a kiss to the back of Micah’s head.
Micah sighs again, swallowing hard. “You won’t be happy…”
“Just tell me everythin’. Please.”
“Fine… I, I guess I sorta missed you,” Micah mutters like he hates himself for admitting it. “E-Even though I’ve been… better these past few months, none of them like me. So there’s nothin’ to do when you ain’t around. And… And I know you hate me doin’ it, but annoyin’ people till they yell at me is still a kind of attention, ain’t it?”
Arthur holds back a sigh. Micah is being unfairly pessimistic, but he has a point; even with him on his best behavior most of the time, Micah isn’t popular within the gang. But Arthur had no idea just how isolated Micah even when surrounded by so many people.
“And, and it don’t do me much good thinkin’ about you goin’ off on a job with goddamn Smith,” Micah says, his tone suddenly bitter.
“What d’you mean?” Arthur asks.
“Don’t be coy, Morgan. I, I see the way he looks at you,” Micah spits, his voice cracking slightly.
An awkward chuckle bursts out of him, and Arthur wants to kick himself when Micah flinches. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh. It’s just… Are you jealous of Charles?”
“No!” Micah says far too quickly, tensing up in Arthur’s grip. “I, it’s… look, that ain’t important,” he says, obviously trying to change the subject, but Arthur doesn’t push it (later, he can try to explain to Micah how he and Charles do not like each other that way, their relationship strong but entirely platonic). “A-Anyway… I… I was pissin’ people off for somethin’ to do, and… that Adler bitch—”
“Micah…” Arthur says under his breath.
“I mean Mrs. Adler,” Micah says through gritted teeth, “obviously thought she’d, she’d do it back to me. She asked me ‘bout my belly and I must’ve flinched, ‘cause she realized how… fuckin’ pathetic I am ‘bout it.”
Arthur lets one of his hands slip from Micah’s chest, trailing down his body to carefully rest it against Micah’s stomach (Micah lets out a hissing noise, but then relaxes into the touch, letting Arthur touch him there—you know how much Micah Bell trusts you when he allows that). “You ain’t pathetic,” Arthur whispers. He knows from multiple conversations and times seeing Micah shirtless just how much Micah’s body image issues effect his mental state, and there is nothing pathetic about trying to function when your brain is trying to hurt you.
Micah sighs but doesn’t snap back, accepting Arthur’s kind comment. “Sean joined in, walkin’ over when I was teasin’ John and givin’ me shit about my belly, but he ain’t said anythin’ since. But e-even after I stopped bein’ an asshole, Mrs. Adler kept… givin’ me shit. Didn’t realize I hadn’t eaten all afternoon till my guts started fussin’, and when I went to eat a goddamn apple… she said she thought you should l-leave someone who looks like m-me,” Micah says, his voice breaking.
Arthur’s chest aches like someone drove a knife into his heart. Other than occasionally crying during sex and the time he shivered and panicked after a nightmare, Micah barely shows his emotions around Arthur despite how much he trusts him. So to hear Micah Bell dangerously near tears does something to Arthur, and he swallows back a lump in his throat, holding Micah closer.
“It’s okay, Micah,” he whispers.
“D-Don’t pity me, Arthur,” Micah says. “Dunno why you’re bein’ so nice to me, when all it took was a few nasty words to get me stuffin’ my fat face and rammin’ my fingers down my throat to get it all out.”
His chest pain getting worse, Arthur rubs his hand against Micah’s belly. Micah doesn’t believe him when he says it during sex or when otherwise undressed, but Arthur genuinely likes Micah’s stomach. And rubbing his belly is a way to force Micah to acknowledge this.
“I’m bein’ nice because I love you, dumbass,” Arthur says, nuzzling Micah’s greasy hair with his nose. “How many times do I gotta say it?”
“I ain’t sure I’m e-ever gonna believe you, Cowpoke,” Micah says, sighing.
Arthur wants to argue, to force Micah to accept what a declaration of love means, but now is not the time. Right now, he needs to comfort the man shivering against him who only minutes earlier made himself vomit up the masses of food he forced himself to eat. He doesn’t understand why Micah did that to himself (to be honest, he isn’t sure Micah knows why he does it; problems with brains don’t make much sense), but all he feels is sympathy to know the man he loves feels so unwell.
Oblivious to Arthur’s internal conflict, Micah continues, “I’ve done it twice in one day. After not doin’ it for five goddamn years. Why am I so fuckin’ weak?!” Before Arthur can speak, Micah lets out a hollow laugh, and says, “I guess I, I deserve it for bein’ a dick, huh?”
“Micah, you don’t deserve this,” Arthur says, rubbing Micah’s stomach a little firmer to emphasize that ‘this’ means the return of his weight issues. “Don’t get me wrong, you were bein’ a jerk and I’m gonna make you apologize to everyone you pissed off whilst I was away—”
“Fine, fine,” Micah mumbles, used to being told off by Arthur for misbehaving.
“But Sadie was definitely in the wrong too. I ain’t a fan of the whole ‘taste of their own medicine’ thing,” Arthur says.
“Why? It worked, didn’t it?” Micah snorts. “I mean, I ran off like a goddamn coward and fucked myself up instead of bullyin’ folks.”
Arthur sighs. “And that’s the point, Micah. Bullyin’ you back hurt you even worse than what you said to the others. And I don’t want anyone to feel like shit. Nobody should be hurtin’ anyone. And that includes you, Micah. You didn’t deserve this. Okay?”
For a few seconds, all Arthur hears is Micah’s heavy breathing. Eventually, he lets out a shuddery sigh, letting his head rest back against Arthur’s chin. “I guess you’ve got a point, Cowpoke,” Micah says, and Arthur pats his stomach, knowing this is the closest he’ll get to Micah accepting he didn’t deserve to end up in such a state.
“You know I do,” Arthur says.
“Still though… look at me, Arthur,” Micah says, one of his hands trembling as it covers Arthur’s, bitten nails digging into his skin a little too hard. “I wouldn’t even blame you if you’re gonna leave me. You should just go and fuck Smith—there’s no way he’s as disgustin’ and weak as—”
“Micah, shut up,” Arthur says, his tone soft yet firm. “For the last time, me and Charles ain’t secretly in love, and I ain’t gonna cheat on you with him. And I certainly ain’t gonna leave you.” He brushes Micah’s hair out of the way with his nose until he can press a kiss to the back of his neck. “I’m afraid you’re stuck with me, Cowpoke,” he whispers with a chuckle.
“I, I’ll never understand you, Morgan,” Micah mutters, but he relaxes slightly in Arthur’s embrace.
“I know you don’t think you deserve me, but listen close,” Arthur says, giving his trembling lover another kiss, this time on his shoulder. “I love you, Micah Bell, and I promise I ain’t leavin’ you. And I promise to help you deal with this. I want to make you feel better. You don’t have to suffer alone anymore. You’ve got me.”
Micah shudders, squeezing Arthur’s hand so tight his nails leave red marks on Arthur’s skin (but Arthur doesn’t push his hand away). The poor thing is exhausted, shivering and smelling like his own vomit, but he seems to finally accept that Arthur’s affection is unconditional. “Th-Thanks. And, um…” Micah bows his head, and Arthur can picture the bashful smile on his face. “I guess I sorta love you too, Cowpoke.”
And Arthur laughs softly, hugging Micah tighter, and praying he can help Micah recover.