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It had been a difficult time since their dad had... passed. No one was taking it well, except maybe Davis? It almost irritated Mike. Davis seemed to act like nothing had changed. He was still immature. At the tip of the iceberg, Mike had to get after him a few times for playing with his food. Mike had thought he'd grown out of that.
It wasn't until several nights after Mike had told them that he really knew it affected Davis, past the initial shock. Mike had been in the kitchen, trying to prepare stuff for Davis and Abby to eat the following day. It was rather late, he should've been in bed by this time, but ever since that day, he'd had to take up more responsibilities. It was around 1am when he heard sounds coming from Davis' room. Some movement, not too much, but just enough to where Mike could tell Davis was moving around.
He was probably trying to sneak around or grab snacks from the kitchen. Mike gave an irritated sigh, just another thing he'd have to deal with tonight. Briskly, he walked to Davis' room and pushed the door open, with no caution of trying to be quiet, and flicked the lights on.
"Davis, why are you-" the word 'awake' died on his tongue. To his surprise, Davis was still in bed. The noise that Mike was hearing was him shifting and kicking the sheets.
A closer look, however, revealed that this wasn't just a restless sleep. Mike could tell that Davis was tense and saw the little wet tear streaks staining his face. He was probably having a nightmare.
"Davis?" Mike called, walking closer, "Davis?"
Mike put his hands on Davis' shoulders, trying to wake him.
"Davis? Davis. Davis!"
Finally, Davis' eyes shot open wide and he gasped loudly, as though he had been holding his breath in his sleep. Mike paused, hesitant and what to do while Davis breathed hard, still waking up from the nightmare. However, as deep breaths gave way to shaky sobs, Mike climbed up onto the bed with his brother and hugged him.
"It's okay, Davis. Everything is gonna be alright."
That wasn't true. Mike had no idea if things would be okay, but he knew that's what would help Davis right now. Davis was clinging to Mike's shirt, soaking a spot on the front of it with a mix of snot and tears. Mike ran his fingers through Davis' short black hair. He remembered Dad used to do that for him all the time, so maybe it'd help Davis too.
"D- don't leave," Davis finally sobbed through shaky breaths.
"I'm not going anywhere, it's okay Davis. I love you."
Davis slowly regained control of his breath, more steadily he requested, "Promise you won't leave?"
"Promise."
. . .
An endo of the man he was supposed to be sat in a quiet corner of the Pizzaria, recalling the memory.
"You broke your promise, Mike," he chuckles quietly. At that his frame started shaking, and if he had the ability to cry anymore, tears would've run down the cold metal of his face, eventually falling to the ground where he sat.
Art for this story is done by Ghostiethesilly
