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Michael groaned and scrubbed at his eyes, pulling a hand through his hair in a half-hearted attempt to make it look more presentable as he stumbled to the door. Someone was banging on it, not stopping even after he’d yelled at them from the bedroom multiple times that he was coming.
“Alright, ALRIGHT, would ya shut up already?! I’m openin’ the bloody door-!”
There was a woman on his doorstep, glaring at him through a black eye swollen shut. Her long blond hair was falling out of its ponytail, tangled and matted with blood. Her gray bunny suit had definitely seen better days, with one of the gloves missing and a new tear across the shoulder, though the suit’s head was held carefully under one arm and looked undamaged.
“-What the hell,” Michael hissed, quickly seizing her by the arm and dragging her inside. “What the HELL, Vanessa-?!”
“Don’t call me that,” the woman snarled, ripping her arm out of his grip. He scoffed, not at all concerned by the look in her eyes threatening him with a painful death.
“Whatever, Vanny. Still a dumb nickname.”
“Not a nickname,” Vanny snapped, though she sat down on the couch when he gestured to it. Michael started collecting various medical supplies, quickly and efficiently like they’d done this many times before. (They had, though not as often now that she was better at taking care of herself. He was the only person she ever allowed herself to go to when she really needed help.)
“What did ya get yourself into this time, Van?” Michael asked, marginally softer, as he sat on the couch beside her and began to clean the cut on her forehead. She tensed in warning at the sharp sting, which he ignored.
“…Kid had a brother,” she eventually muttered. Michael’s hands faltered for a split second, but neither of them acknowledged it. “Tough guy. Got them both in the end, but the police were right on my tail. Didn’t have time to change.”
“Did ya just make a rabbit pun?” Michael asked, smirking. (If there was any part of him that ached at the idea of some guy defending his little sibling to the death, no there wasn’t. There never was; not anymore.) “Vanny, did I seriously just hear ya make a rabbit pun?”
Vanny scowled at him murderously. “No. You’re losing it.”
Michael snorted at that, the heaviness in his chest growing a little lighter. “And now you’re makin’ jokes? Damn, the world must be endin’.”
Vanny scowled harder, though she looked down at the bunny mask in her hands and didn’t try to refute him again.
They sat in silence as Michael finished cleaning and bandaging the other wounds on her head, before moving to her arms. It turned out that one of her wrists had been sprained, which he tsked at like a worried parent.
“I know Dad pushes ya too hard,” he murmured, sounding uncharacteristically genuine. He took out an ice pack to press against the injured wrist, making Vanny wince and growl slightly. “Just- if it ever gets too much for ya, call me. I’ll get a couple ‘a jobs done.”
“You hate them, though,” she said quietly. Michael glanced away, his shoulders tensing.
“I’d still do ‘em if ya needed a break. They’re gonna be done either way.”
Vanny shook her head, frowning. “No, I’ll do them. He needs me. I can’t let him down.”
Michael winced a bit at the way she still referred to his father, like he was a- a frikin’ cult leader, or something. Like he’d given her everything she ever wanted, just by asking her to do this one little thing for him.
But she wasn’t finished.
“Besides, I-” Her voice faltered, and she looked away, biting her lip. “I… don’t want you to be upset.”
Michael was stunned silent for a second or two, but recovered quickly. “I- uh- Thanks, Van. That- that means a lot.”
She glanced back at him then, her eyebrows scrunching in a way that almost seemed… sad. “I wish-”
Vanny suddenly gasped, pitching forward and barely catching herself on the floor with her hands. Michael crouched on the floor beside her, gently taking her sprained wrist, looping her arm around his shoulders and letting her lean her full weight into him.
“Vanny?”
Vanny didn’t answer. She was trembling, gasping repeatedly with sharp, hitched breaths.
“…Vanessa?”
Vanessa gave a small, sharp cry like she’d been stabbed. “M- Michael-”
Michael wrapped his arms around her, and she fell into him, beginning to sob uncontrollably.
“I hate this, Michael, I hate this,” she whimpered into his shirt. “I hate this, I hate her, I hate him.”
“I know,” he whispered back. “I hate this too.”
Vanessa cried in his arms for a long time after that.