Chapter Text
“Jon?” he called.
No answer.
Mikey stood outside his brother’s bedroom, hand raised, but not knocking yet.
He waited for a bit, then knocked.
Still nothing.
He pushed the door open, entering quietly. It was pitch dark -as expected,- curtains drawn tight, air heavy and stale. The only sign of life was the lump under the duvet.
The small room was still a weird blend of messy and bare. Jonathan didn't have much back at their da's house to bring with him to Mikey's flat, but he did make a point of not organising anything. Just let a bunch of clothes laying around, trash and old cans of fizzy drink tossed off and the odd book here and there.
“Hey,” Mikey said, stepping inside and seeing his wee brother awake and staring at the ceiling. “It’s almost eleven.”
No response.
Right, desperate measures.
"What are you doing?" the teenager asked as soon as he saw Mikey heading to the window.
"Checking if you're breathing." He pulls the curtains open and lets some light into the room. "You know? If you've got a pulse or something."
Jonathan pulls the covers over himself, shielding himself from the sudden daylight all over the room.
“You gonna stay in here all day, are you?” He sat on the edge of the bed, “And you didn’t even touch the toast I've brought up earlier...” He said in a fake upset tone, trying to keep things playful, rather than make it seem like he blamed Jonathan for anything.
Jonathan moved under the covers, pulling them higher over his head. “Not hungry.”
He took him breakfast in bed, hoping it would help him get moving. But Jonathan didn't eat any of it. He kept to himself in the dark room.
“You didn’t eat dinner yesterday either.”
“Not hungry.”
Mikey let out a slow breath. He could see the warning signs.
It's tough to know when to push him or when to let him be, but since yesterday he had a bad headache from the meds, Mikey had decided to be nice. Cut him some slack. Jonny really is just a teenager after all.
But two days in a row is too much. Enough!
"Get out of bed," Mikey pulls the covers away from him. "It's not healthy, this."
All he gets is an exaggerated moan, and looking down, his younger brother has deep circles under his eyes. Didn't he sleep?
"You not feeling well?" His tone changed. He kept his voice much lower. Maybe he should have asked if the headache was still there before drawing the curtains.
Yesterday he had a pretty bad headache. Probably a side effect from the new meds he's on. That's the main reason Mikey didn't push him with dinner too.
“You’ve been in here all day, Jon. Head still bad?” He sits down on the bed.
“Yeah... Sort of.”
Just last week, he took his baby brother to a new psychiatrist, where Jonathan was given some new medication to try and get his mood up.
Jonathan’s on three new pills and a sleeping aid. So far, his system is still getting used to them, but they do seem to be doing him some good. Though Mikey knows he shouldn't expect much so early, as far as he can tell, Jon has been calmer, softer, and has managed to actually sleep at night instead of pacing around the house during crazy hours.
Though today, he didn't leave his bedroom...
“You think it’s the meds?”
“Dunno. Just tired.”
“Alright. Come out for a bit,” He put his hand on Jon's shoulder and shook it gently, "Come on, you can be tired on the couch."
The boy just pulls his covers back up and hides completely under them, covering even his head.
“Jon?”
He turns his back to Mikey. Not as a tantrum, just a complete refusal to engage. By the time the older brother gets the blankets away from his face, his breathing is coming out slow and fake. He ignores Mikey completely, pretending to sleep.
He does pull the duvet tighter when Mikey tries to pull it down. “Why are you checking on me like I’m a baby?”
“Cuz you are a big baby,” He said while taking a pillow and throwing it on Jonathan.
“You said I could take it easy while I adjust.” Jonathan grabbed the pillow and put it over his head, hiding away again.
“It’s the third day. You’re supposed to feel off, but you still gotta eat.”
“You can go, I’ll eat the breakfast.”
“You're not eating in bed all day. You need to move a little, Jon.”
“I’ll come out later.”
He won’t. Mikey knows he won't. He just says it to end the conversation and hopes Mikey will leave. Mikey does all a good responsible older brother can and starts shaking him, trying to get him annoyed enough to move.
“It’s not even lunch. You don’t need to check on me every bloody hour!” There’s that Irritated tone, though there’s no real energy behind it. He’s been having quite a bad stretch for a while now. It all comes out like this moody, angry, annoying teenager-ish attitude, but there’s never any actual bite to it.
“You don’t have to pretend to be fine for me, Jon. But don’t shut me out either. I want you to get better. These meds are supposed to help, yeah? But I can’t tell if they are if you don’t say anything and just stay hidden away every day.”
…
“You gonna stay in here all day, then?”
Jonathan shifted slightly under the covers, Mikey let out a slow breath. He could hear the warning bells, even if Jon couldn’t.
“I'm feeling so lonely downstairs..." He joked again.
It wasn't working.
Jonathan's new psychologist said that Mikey should be honest with his little brother. Keep an open line of communication so he doesn't feel like he needs to hide his own feelings.
"…Jonny, I don't want you to keep isolated. We can make company to each other, can't we?"
Nothing.
“You scared the hell out of me last time. Don’t do that again. Just… You’re scaring me again, Jonny.” That finally got him something. The covers moved and a pale face peeked out. Jonathan’s eyes were bloodshot, lids heavy, face damp with sweat.
“I’m fine,” he said, though it didn’t sound convincing. “Don’t wanna scare you.”
“I know.” Mikey nodded. “Come on, let’s get some food in you, yeah?”
Jonathan blinked slowly, then slowly dragged himself upright, hoodie sleeves falling over his hands, hair sticking up at odd angles. He looked pale as hell. But awake, at least.
“You still got that headache?”
Jonathan rubbed one eye, “No.”
Mikey gave him a look.
“I mean… yes, but not really- It’s not that bad.” Jonathan slouched back against the headboard, arms crossed. “I’m just adapting. Feels strange s'all."
“You said that yesterday...” Mikey nudged his foot. Motioning for his brother to get up.
Jonathan wobbled slightly as he stood, pressing a hand to the wall. Mikey steadied him automatically. “Alright?”
“Bit dizzy. S’alright.” His baby brother nodded, “It's an expected side effect. Isn’t that what the doc said?”
...
The telly’s volume was playing low in the living room. Some new dating show played out in front of Jonathan. Comfort noise. Not really meant to entertain any of the brothers.
Jonathan was curled into one side of the sofa, blanket over his knees. Mikey came in and gave his baby brother some biscuits and set some nice warm tea down in front of him.
“You spoil me,” Jonathan said sarcastically, taking a sip.
As a quiet moment passed while the telly droned on — an ugly and unnaware contestant declaring he wanted a partner who was “Dead gorgeous, knew how to sing and had a fast metabolism.” got laughed at by the presenter — Jonathan let out a small laugh. Mikey smiled. Always great to see him happy. Or at least as close to happy as he could get.
“Lunch’ll be twenty minutes.” Jonathan coughed and turned the telly up half a notch. Cheeky sod.
After some time, Mikey glanced over. “So… how’re you feeling today? Properly.”
“Bit slow. Brain feels like it's behind on what's going on.” Still chewing slowly a biscuit, Jonathan shrugged.
“Not as bad as yesterday. That one was rough.” Jonathan leaned his head back, staring at the ceiling. He didn’t enjoy these “check-up” conversations. They made him feel like he was being interrogated.
“Alright. And the other stuff? Any difference?”
“I dunno. Everything’s kind of blurry. Like... I’m underwater a bit. But I didn’t wake up last night, so I guess the sleep thing’s working.”
That answer made Mikey pause. “Really?”
“Yeah.” Jonathan took another sip of tea. “First time in ages.”
Mikey put his hand on the back of Jonny’s neck, a big grin plastered at his mouth. “That’s brilliant.”
“You sound shocked.”
“I am,” Mikey admitted. “I mean- not that I didn’t think it could help. It’s just, your sleep’s always been... you know. Shit.”
Jonathan laughed, nodding.
They sat in silence a bit longer, the telly playing on. Jonathan picked at the corner of the mostly empty biscuit packet, eyes on the screen but not really watching.
Mikey glanced at him again. “We’ll keep tracking it, alright? See how things go.”
“Yeah.” He nodded “Thanks for the tea,”
“Don't mention it.”
...
The younger man was still curled sideways against the cushions, blanket tangled at his feet now, his arm hanging limply off the edge.
Mikey walked over to get his weary brother up once again.
“Oi, come on. Food’s done.” He knelt down beside him and gave his shoulder a gentle nudge. “Wake up, man. You’ve been out nearly an hour already.”
A low groan was all the answer he got.
“That’s it. Rise from the dead.”
Jonathan woke up slowly. One of the things Mikey noticed about the new meds is that he had become quite a heavy sleeper. Well, better than before, when he didn't sleep at all.
He looked at Mikey then squinted toward the kitchen, rubbing his face with one sleeve while he sat up.
“Made real food, let’s go.”
“Not hungry,” Jonathan murmured, pulling the blanket up again and moving as if going back to sleep.
“I know. You’ve been saying that for three days.” Mikey sat next to him on the couch.
“Hm.”
“I don’t care. Don’t matter if you're hungry, you need to eat. You’re on new meds, your body needs fuel.”
He waited a second longer, and Jonathan reluctantly got up, heading towards the kitchen table. Stumbling a little, but Mikey wrote it off as doziness and just focused on supporting him, giving him his arm to get there with no major incidents.
“Don’t you get tired of dragging me around?” He piped up and chuckled, pretending it was a joke.
“I told you already, you’re not a burden. Not today, not any day. That’s not what this is.” Mikey's been trying to knock these ideas out of Jonny’s head ever since he took him in. Actually, if he wanted to be technical about it, ever since Jon was a child and his depression started getting worrisome.
They ate in silence for a bit. Mikey clearing his own plate in a few quick bites, Jonathan barely making a dent in his. Still, Mikey didn’t push him. Just sipped his juice and watched his brother pick at a forkful of eggs.
After a few minutes, he cleared his throat. “Listen — I’ve got plans tonight.”
Jonathan looked up, “Plans?”
“Yeah. That girl I’ve been seeing...”
“The one from the party?”
“Yeah, her.” Mikey smiled. “We’ve got a dinner thing tonight. Nothing fancy.”
“Alright.” Jonathan nodded and smiled.
“You gonna be okay here on your own?”
Shrug. “I’m fifteen, not five.”
“Yeah, but you’ve looked half-asleep all day.”
“I’m fine.”
Mikey watched him closely for a moment, “you sure?”
“So what’s her name, then?” Jonathan asked suddenly, curious, but also — mostly — trying to change the subject.
“Camille.”
“Camille?”
“Yeah... What?”
“S’just a bit fancy, no?” Jonathan smirked. “Can you even pull a girl called Camille?”
Mikey tossed a balled-up napkin at him. “Shut up.”
“Maybe she’s doing it as a bet or somethin’... Could also be a charity thing-”
“You’re a nightmare.” Mikey groaned and rolled his eyes.
Jonathan laughed, “You like her, though?”
Mikey shrugged and his ears went a bit red. “Yeah. I do.” There was a brief pause. Mikey smiled into his tea.
“You seem happy. She's nice?”
“Yeah,” Mikey said. “She is.”
Jonathan nodded. “Cool.”
The silence settled again — until Jonathan stiffened suddenly. Blinked hard, taking deep breaths, blinked again, then swallowed with a strange tightness in his jaw.
Mikey caught the change instantly. “What is it?”
“I’m gonna be sick.”
“Shit- alright, come on.” Mikey was up in a flash, already helping Jonathan to his feet. They made it to the bathroom just in time. Jonathan dropped to his knees, gripping the edge of the toilet with all his strength and poured over what little he had just managed for lunch.
Mikey crouched beside him, one hand on his back, the other holding his hair back from his face. His brother was clammy and the sounds of retching echoed in the small bathroom. The older brother winced at the throaty and wet noises, but said nothing, just focused on comforting Jonathan as he rubbed slow circles across his shoulder blades and let him get this over with.
“Easy… breathe through it… That’s it.”
It went on longer than Mikey liked — or even expected, considering how little Jon had been eating— When it was finally over, Jonathan stayed slumped backwards against the wall, shaking slightly, breath ragged.
Mikey kneeled and grabbed a washcloth, ran it under cold water, wiped Jon's sweaty forehead before he pressed it to the back of his brother’s neck. “You alright?”
“Grand.”
Mikey closed his eyes for a moment, exhaling slowly. “Alright, don't worry. We’ll figure it out.”
The brothers continued like that for about ten more minutes. Jonathan kept his body slumped against the cold tile, flushed and glassy-eyed while Mikey pressed the wet cloth around his face and neck, hoping to help him feel better.
All he wanted was to know for sure what to do. He has taken care of Jonny before, yes, but as a brother. As someone who’s just seven years older and responsible enough to handle it. Not really as a guardian. As a grown up who was solely responsible for a minor’s life.
Having Jon away from their father’s house was a huge relief, but having him sick and not knowing what to do to help made Mikey feel so much younger. He wished their mam was alive, so he could ask her what to do.
Thinking back on their childhood, he put his hand to the back of Jonathan’s forehead and frowned, like mam used to do to him so many years ago.
“Christ, Jon- you’re burning up.”
“’M just tired,”
Mikey didn’t argue. Stubborn idiot wasn’t going to admit to feeling shit now, so he just nodded and helped him stand, one arm around his back, the other gripping his wrist. Jonathan wobbled but didn’t fight him. That was the biggest confirmation that he’s feeling really shit.
They moved to the living room and Mikey got him back to the couch, sat him down carefully, and tucked the blanket over his legs.
“Alright, just sit back. Try not to move for a bit.”
Jonathan leaned into the cushions and closed his eyes, still pale and sweating. He didn’t look too much better yet.
Mikey brought him a glass of water. “Small sips. Don't throw up on my couch.”
That got him a tiny twitch of a smile as Jon took the glass and did as he was told without trying to argue. Finally.
Mikey hovered for a moment, watching. Then gave a small nod and stood.
“I’ll be back in a minute. Yell if you feel like hurling again.”
He stepped back into the bathroom and got to work, rinsing out the toilet, wiping the floor, tossing the damp cloth in the laundry. Then into the kitchen, where the dishes waited. He did his best to keep himself calm and do what he knew needed to be done, but his mind was running miles.
Headaches. Exhaustion. Nausea. Fever.
He’d told the doctor this was a lot of meds to dump into a fifteen-year-old. Hadn’t he?
Mikey peeked at the doorway.
Let him rest.