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“Vessel, do you want one of your milks before I put them away?” II calls from the kitchen, removing the package of chocolate milk cartons from his grocery bag and setting them on the counter.
Vessel comes out of his room a moment later, dressed in the new cotton pajamas II and he picked out just last week, there’s no prints on them or anything and that’s okay because he just likes to look ‘soft’.
II had had no idea where that remark had come from, given his penchant for dark and medieval things ordinarily, but he smiles now at the innocence the outfit lends the normally broody twenty-six year old.
The younger man snags a milk carton and pops the straw off the side of it. He taps the little plastic tube against the counter until the straw pops through the sleeve, pops it into the carton and begins sipping intently on it.
“MMmmm....thank you, II...” he moans dramatically, breathily leaning down into his older friend for a little cuddle.
II is in the middle of tidying the groceries gently but quickly presses a kiss into his cheek, snickering lightly before sweeping him off to the side with a soft spank to continue in his task.
Vessel’s mouth pulls into a frown as he feels a twisting, hollow sensation in his stomach.
He's not even very sure what triggered this feeling, but he suddenly wants to cry.
He doesn’t quite know what’s wrong, he knows nothing is wrong- not really, but he wants held.
He's not going to cry, that would be ridiculous.
II is busy, which is okay, but he still wants -needs- someone to hold him.
He sees III, busily scrolling through his phone in the dining room area, seated at the table and hurriedly pads over to him.
Still sipping on his little carton, he comes to stand beside the taller man quietly. III looks up after a moment, quickly assessing the singer’s cherubic features and noting the tiny flash of trouble lurking in them.
He extends a knee quietly, patting it with one hand softly, an unspoken invitation to indulge in the intimacy of home for a little bit, unbothered. Vessel isn't often one to allow himself the indulgence the others often offer him, the nods to him being the youngest –their junior by only four years, but a gap keenly felt by his bandmates. III expects his offer to be turned down with a little scowl he's come to know as Vessel's 'I'm so embarassed, I'm angry' face.
To his surprise, Vessel settles sideways into the older man’s lap, face clearing of any upset as he lets III wrap his arms around him.
II watches the whole exchange from the kitchen, heart tugging when Vessel rests his head, swollen lips still wrapped around his straw and sipping against III’s heart, looking up at his face as the older man does something on his phone. He’s secretly glad that his boyfriend is so big- on the one hand, it is a terrific experience for II to be able to get tangled in III’s lanky limbs. On the other, though, he can provide a level of security to Vessel, that II, try as he might, simply can not emulate.
Vessel hums quietly against III’s chest, closing his eyes and breathing in his nice berry smell. II always says it’s a terrible thing, that III smells like his vape juice, but Vessel finds it familiar and soothing.
III cards his fingers through the man’s auburn waves presently, brows furrowing lightly,”Everythin’ okay, baby bear?”
Vessel nods, eyes still closed.
“Jus’ wanted a cuddle?”
He nods again. He knows it's not really an answer fitting for such a surprising turn of events, but he doesn't have the energy to explain the tumult churning inside him right now.
III leans over and plants a sloppy kiss onto the man’s cheek. He lets out an undignified squeal of sorts, shocking even himself with the childishness of the sound.
Then, he giggles as he meets III's wide eyes.
Across the room, II thinks he might burst with satisfaction at the innocence of the sound, happy to hear the usually masochistic man embracing his softer side, instead of leaning into his more abrasive diversions as he was prone to when troubled.
Had he ever felt safe enough when he was appropriately-sized , for these sorts of things?
II thinks back to the previous week's events – the troubling shouting in the middle of the night coming from Vessel's room.
The teary but angry goodbye he'd made to his mother when she'd finally pushed him too far with her abuse.
The tiny request from such a big man in his barely-lit room to 'please sit in here' while he and III slept in their bedroom. Not a request to be held, which was what he so clearly needed, but had refused when II offered it, but only to be near someone else while he cried in almost perfect silence, sat beside their bed on the floor, curled small.
Obviously, II hadn't been able to fall asleep again, troubled by the implications of his actions and, instead, resting his head over III's stomach while his boyfriend slept through the whole incident, unbothered.
Vessel wiggles on III’s lap, he’s really only a few inches or so smaller than the larger man, so his own gangly limbs are working against him now, but III tickles him again in his stomach and his body curls up instinctively, trying to fend off his attack. III removes the empty milk carton from his hand and chances a sip at it, only to find it’s entirely empty.
He feigns a dramatic pause as he assesses the situation.
Vessel waits, stomach taut, but eyes shining with giddiness.
Then, III attacks him again- all flying fingers and boyish roughhousing, while Vessel laughs riotously in his hold, unable to get away.
“Noooo...No-NO!” he’s screeching, but III pays him no mind and attacks under his arms in lieu of his stomach being protected.
II shakes his head at them, and III grins back as he meets his boyfriend’s eyes.
“Oi, get a load of this guy,”III says, and stands suddenly, cradling Vessel’s thin body in both arms and making him yelp when he twirls his slender frame about dramatically, drops him on his feet, and then bends down in front of him.
Using Vessel's momentary disarmament at III's ease in manipulating him to his advantage, he kneels. He grasps Vessel’s shins carefully, and slips him over his shoulder, making the younger man screech in surprise.
“Thinks he can just commandeer my lap without payin’ the milk tax?”
He looks at II incredulously, silvery blue eyes flashing with mock fury, the drummer shakes his head laughingly in response, his shoulders wobbling with humor.
“The audacity!” he mock gasps, covering his mouth with a hand and leaning on the counter to support himself while Vessel bangs his fists against III's bony back and ass, only adding insult to injury in his already vulnerable position.
"Put me down!" he yelps, trying to curl up and grab III's shoulders, realizing immediately he needs to hit the gym with more frequency.
“Guess I’ll have to take it out the tickle tax, instead,” III shrugs.
Over his shoulder, Vessel kicks as best he can, face growing red and pinched as the blood runs to his head, “NO! No more, III, I have to pee already!”
II giggles, coming around the counter to stand behind III, reaching up and pulling Vessel’s shirt, which has ridden up to his pecks, back down.
“I dunno, Ves, should I pay the tax for ya?” II asks, ponderingly, coming around to gaze into III’s merry eyes.
“NO!” Vessel giggles, a little whimper thrown in between his breathless laughing as III dives for his side, dangling him with one aching wrist over his shoulder now.
“My chocolate milk, he’s just tryin’ to pirate my sweets!”
II holds his hands out in helplessness to III, as if to say “what can I do, ya heard the lad?”.
III tickles one of Vessel’s archless feet.
He guffaws and II laughs but his icy blue eyes turn menacing for a half a second as III swings the singer's head just a bit too close to the corner of the island from where he’s dangling upside down over his shoulder.
II doesn’t spoil their moment with his temporary panic but mouths firmly, “Be fuckin' careful.”
III nods sheepishly and sets Vessel down on top of the countertop with some difficulty, his face rosy and wild now as he brackets him between his arms and leans forward on his thighs.
The older man stretches his neck from side to side, easing the ache from holding the awkward position for so long but grins at the singer fondly, still reeling from the carefreeness of the moment.
Vessel pants, freckles popping beneath the pink of his flush and eyes flashing with excitement as he comes down from laughing so much.
III presses his face into the man’s chest dramatically, rubbing his cheek against him and making sad little sounds.
“I wanted a choccy milk,” he whines, and Vessel bats at him, looking to II for rescue playfully.
II crosses his arms and chuckles quietly, shrugging and unwrapping a pack of biscuits as he watches the pair goof around.
Vessel sighs and rolls his eyes, gingerly patting III’s shoulder in mock sympathy, “I s’pose we could make a deal....”
III perks up immediately, “Anythin’ - my first born- anythin’, name your price!”
II almost chokes laughing as III all but grovels to the younger man, indulging him.
“Welll.....”
Vessel lifts a long finger, tapping it against his chin with a conniving but gorgeous smile as he meets III's leery gaze.
“What’s all this ruckus?” IV interrupts the scene presently, returning from where he’s been showering in the next room.
He swaggers in in a towel and quickly makes his way to the oven, preheating it for the dinner he’s clearly already decided to make.
“Political violence incited by chocolate milk,” II explains in a serious but laughing tone,”Now, shhhh....we’re very close to making peace.”
Vessel toys with the chain around III’s neck quietly, mouth pursed in concentration a moment before he opens it and says, “If you get me two new packs, I shall give you a choccy milk in return.”
III’s jaw drops overdramatically, “You bugger!”
He attacks Vessel’s belly again, earning a shrill cry for mercy.
“Do you hear this man?”
III asks, turning incredulously to IV and II, granting Vessel a tiny reprieve from his fingers.
IV shrugs, casting a conspiratory smile in Vessel's direction, “A guy’s gotta live.”
"They can be from just the store," Vessel relents, patting III's shoulder softly from his position on the higher ground.
II nods, expression carefully blank, “Perfectly reasonable bargain to me.”
He takes another bite of the chocolate biscuit he’s eating.
Vessel sees the biscuit and his eyes grow round, looking up at II with his best impression of a puppy.
“II....wanna bite o’your biccy, please...” he whines pathetically, and III looks up at him in shock.
II just laughs and breaks off half his biscuit, offering it to the younger man who devours it.
“He’s tryin’ to eat us outta house and home!” III cries, “The impropriety of it all!”
Vessel just nibbles on his biscuit in satisfaction, swinging his legs a little around III every now and again.
IV smiles at the scene, spraying a casserole with oil on the other side of the kitchen.
“He’s a growin’ boy, III,” II says calmly, beaming and patting Vessel’s cheek with one hand, giving him the silliness he's clearly vying for.
III looks incredulously at the pair of them.
The younger man leans into it deeply. A second later, III leans over and shoves his face between them, though.
He presses his lips firmly to II’s and the pair kiss deeply as Vessel looks to IV desperately for help from where they’re holding him hostage between them.
“PDA! PDA! PDA!” Vessel shrieks after about a minute of the making out.
IV laughs.
III pulls back, scowling at the singer and poking him in the stomach.
“You are not the public!”
“I am your public and... I wanted in...” Vessel pouts falsely, looking equal parts disgruntled and a little sheepish at the latter part, and both men promptly plant their lips on either of his sharp cheekbones.
Vessel looks to IV again, who is all but purple with amusement at the ridiculousness before him.
II pulls back after a moment, “Be careful what you wish for, pretty boy.”
He boops Vessel’s nose.
III lays his kiss on particularly sloppily, before pulling back suddenly and Vessel wrinkles his nose at the slobber as he swipes at his cheek.
“Ewwww..I will- gross, III.”
He waves a hand with a string of drool dangling from it at the taller man who uses the sleeve of his hoodie to swipe at the younger man's hand, laughing to himself at Vessel's sharp nose all wrinkled up in disgust.
“I think it’s kinda hot, I dunno,” II wiggles his eyebrows.
“II!” IV admonishes jokingly, playing along from where he’s paring potatoes into the casserole, still only in his towel, “There are impressionable youth present!”
Vessel nods sarcastically ,”Yeah, just an innocent young man...”
III pinches his butt softly, he yelps.
“Welp, if this young man wants Pokemon cards before dinner, he’d better go get some public clothes on and be ready in five, we’ve got a run to make, but I will be taking my payment first.”
III nods to II, who reaches under the island and pulls out a chocolate milk for him.
“C’n I have another, II?” Vessel whines, and II scowls at him.
“Dinner is gonna be ready as soon as your back,” he scolds gently, “You’ve already had one and, like, five biscuits, plus all the other shit you've had... dinner’s already gonna be questionable.”
Vessel hasn't been very on top of his nutrition of late, so II has taken the reins for him until further notice, an agreement the younger man agreed to but doesn't necessarily enjoy having to acquiesce to.
Vessel nods, blushing a bit at the admonishment, then wraps himself around III, who is sipping on his aforementioned chocolate milk.
“To my room!” Vessel declares, scooting himself forward so he’s almost on top of III.
II laughs, they’ve created a monster. A monster he’s happy to indulge.
III rolls his eyes but picks the younger man’s legs up under his thighs and stands, “What am I to you?”
Vessel smiles and hugs him around his neck as they walk away, his eyes closed warmly, “The best.”
“Awwww....”
That comes from IV, who is adding onion to the dish for dinner.
“Someone’s been cuddly lately. He seem off to you at all?”
II nods, expression a little troubled, “Think he’s feeling a little off since cutting his mum off, he’s been more clingy and, a tiny bit more emotional – I mean, I know that’s not sayin’ much for him but, you know..”
IV swipes at his burning eyes from the onion and sniffs, pondering," I mean, kinda the end of an era for him, huh? His childhood, I mean?"
II sighs shrugging a little, “I mean, she wasn't ever mother enough for him to really indulge in that I don't think, anyways.
IV quirks his mouth thoughtfully, “Maybe he's coping with the fact that he never will now, like mourning his childhood if she had been a decent mother, if you will- can you open the oven?”
II hurries to help, sighing again, "He'll tell us if it's something he can't manage on his own, just tryin' to be supportive of his antics in the meantime."
IV nods, bracing himself as he leans over the open oven and the swelling heat slaps him in the face.
III returns with Vessel in tow, the latter now dressed in his favorite Tommy Hilfiger jumper and a pair of blue skinny jeans.
“Off to Pokemon?” II asks.
III nods, sighing and spinning his keys on his finger, rolling his eyes at Vessel.
“A deal’s a deal.”
He strides across the kitchen, grasps II around the waist and plants a heavy kiss goodbye on his lips.
The older man folds and IV and Vessel make themselves busy as the pair dissolve into a moment of revelry.
IV eventually breaks it off, sneakily slapping II’s ass with a towel, “Alright, alright, it’s like ten minutes to the cornerstore and back, you drama queens.”
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When III and Vessel return, II can tell something is wrong.
Vessel walks in first, III’s hand on the small of his back, his head hanging low, his untidy mop of hair hiding his features.
II doesn’t wait to see more.
“Is everything okay?”
III smiles tightly but shakes his head, closing the door behind them.
II’s face creases further.
“Did something happen?”
Vessel bolts away from the pair, nearly clobbering IV in the hallway, whose just returned from getting dressed.
A moment later, a door slams closed and both men are looking to III in confusion.
The older man sighs, tossing two Pokemon packs onto the island and sitting down on one of the stools.
“Some asshole couldn’t keep it his opinions to himself and made it Vess’ problem that Pokemon cards are really ‘just for kids’,” he explains, fingering the foils softly, “I told’im right off, of course, but proper set V off.”
“Awww....” IV says, jutting his lower lip out sympathetically, “He was so excited, too.”
II nods, concern overshadowing his features, “He cryin’?”
III shakes his head quickly, “Looked like he might, but he hadn’t when we got in the car.”
“Probably what he’s doin’ now,” IV remarks, nodding toward his room and lowering his tone.
II stands right up at that, heart wrenching as he remembers that horrid hiccupping cry beside his bed in the middle of the night,“I’m gonna go get’im, poor lad. Why can’t people just mind their own fuckin' business?”
IV sighs and shakes his head, “Dunno, but remember to let him feel what he needs to feel, II.”
II stiffens at that, “I do, but...”
"It's normal and a part of the grieving process, II," IV chides delicately, watching II warily, "You can't protect him from the world, mate."
III nods slowly, agreeing with IV as he rubs a hand up and down II’s arm softly.
IV continues gently, leaning on the island, “We’re doin’ the best we can to let him know he’ll always have a place here, and I think he knows that, but I think it’s only fair he gets a second here or there to feel sad about what he’s lost.”
III nods again, “It fucking sucks, but the bad feelings matter just like the good ones, they tell me.”
II nods, “I just want him to know he’s safe here.”
“He knows, trust me, “III replies.
“When we left the shop and got in the car, he went right for a hug and just wanted held a minute,” III explains, “I don’t think it really has anything to do with us.”
II nods, feeling almost more troubled by that assessment.
The timer for dinner beeps after another ten minutes, and Vessel appears in the doorway. He’s changed back into pajamas, a tight blue thermal pair that IV helped him pick out last month.
His eyes and nose are a little swollen, his lips plump and blood red.
“You okay?” IV asks softly.
Vessel doesn’t look at him, but nods.
II feels his heart sink, his poor boy.
They dish up their plates quietly and sit down in the living room.
They turn on Big Bang Theory, Vessel’s most recent obsession and eat in almost silence besides the show.
After about twenty minutes, Vessel stands, taking his plate away. The other guys are enthralled in the show and pay him no mind.
IV stands, though, following him out after a few minutes.
He takes II and III’s plates and stacks them atop his, “Be right back, want anything?”
They shake their heads.
IV makes his way back into the kitchen, and has scarcely entered when he finds Vessel white knuckling the back of a chair.
Tears are trickling down his cheeks and sharp, almost imperceptible sobs escaping his parted lips as he gazes down at the packs of Pokemon cards on the table.
He hasn’t touched them.
He looks up, meets IV’s gaze, and, surprisingly, doesn’t turn away.
He just looks up at him, suddenly seeming so weary and exhausted. Especially when compared to the carefree git that was giggling on their counter earlier.
IV sets the plates down on the island and carefully approaches him.
“You can open those anytime you want,” IV says softly, gingerly placing a hand on the taller man’s back and rubbing a circle into it.
Vessel shakes under his hand.
He sobs, then drops to a squat and presses his forehead into the back of the chair, almost like he’s fighting a physical kind of pain and trying to figure out how to bear it.
IV pulls out another chair and sits down in it, gently grasping the Vessel's shoulder and rubbing his thumb in circles over it.
They sit in silence.
Vessel releases a long, shuddering cry- it's not very loud- but IV can tell it would hurt to contain just as much as it appears to hurt releasing.
“I’m gonna bet this isn’t over those packs, huh?” IV asks softly, moving his hand to cradle the back of his head and card his fingers through the downy hair there.
Vessel shakes his head immediately under his hand.
IV nods, scratching his scalp soothingly.
“I’m so, so sorry, Vessel.”
The apology undoes him completely, Vessel whirls around and buries his nose into IV’s lap weeping, now fully on his knees.
IV doesn’t move. He doesn’t speak.
He just keeps a hand on the man’s hair and keeps stroking, occasionally moving the other down to his shoulders and neck to massage there.
He lets him cry.
Lets his pant leg get drenched.
Lets his thigh absorb the loudest cries.
Becomes a human tissue since it's the only thing he can offer his young friend.
After a long time, Vessel seems to have cried himself dry, and he turns his head so his ear is resting on IV’s leg, staring out into the distance somewhere far away.
“I-I wish I would die. Right now.”
IV’s eyes widen, but he keeps his tone steady, “Why might you say that?”
“Because I could pretend that I didn't do it- t-that I didn't-"
He cuts himself off, grasping the bottom of IV’s pant leg to comfort himself by smoothing his thumb back and forth over the fabric.
IV understands, or, thinks he does, at least.
These are uncharted waters for him.
He lets Vessel sit with the silence a moment.
Tries to soak up some of the pain with his presence.
“This 'bout your mum?"
He asks the question as casually as he can,
Vessel’s face crumples completely against his knee.
“Yeah."
His voice is tiny, shrill, barely more than a mewl before it devolves into a coughing cry, complete with snot bubbles flaring unflatteringly.
That woman did know how to turn beautiful things ugly.
"We're'n't ready to say goodbye, yet, were ya?"
“No, I-I wanted to keep on pretending- I did-"
Vessel looks up at him through sparkling lashes, "It's fucking weird, IV, but I wanted to pretend that things were normal. That-that, at some point- I was a normal kid, with a normal mum who loved me and let me be a kid, that I didn't have to fucking parent her all the time- that-that I mattered then, that me being a fuckin' kid mattered-"
He descends into a sob, no longer coherent and spiraling and IV hunches over to gather more of him into his arms, his tailbone pressing into the back of the wooden chair sharply.
"I'm sorry, V," IV whispers into his hair, pressing his lips into his crown and lingering a moment.
“I'm all alone now, adrift, it feels like," Vessel rasps, sniffling as he gazes blankly into IV's waffleknit sweater.
“I-I’m not ready.”
“That asshole took away something tonight from you that you needed, didn't he?"
Vessel doesn’t answer.
IV scratches lightly at the nape of his neck.
A fresh tear slips down Vessel’s cheek.
“I wanna go back. It’s not fair.”
His voice is tiny, his breaths shallow.
“I-I didn’t get enough.”
IV’s chest aches.
“No.”
“I didn’t get enough time.”
“No, sweetheart.”
“I've had to be an adult my whole fuckin' life and there's no relief in sight- and that's- that's exhausting-"
His voice breaks.
IV closes his eyes.
God, this hurts.
“I know, I know,” he whispers, stroking back his hair again.
Vessel sobs again, turning into IV’s thigh fully.
“I know it.”
IV feels his heart break for the Vessel of before.
He shouldn’t have had to wait until he was at the precipice of adulthood to find out how it feels to be hugged and kissed goodnight.
He shouldn’t have been almost a quarter of a century old being indulged for the first time in his life with something as simple as a snack, offered without a remark about how much he eats, and how it's too much.
He should’ve had somebody to go to when his stomach hurt.
He should’ve had somebody who would come looking for him when he stole away to cry.
He’s only just gotten all of that now, in this small way, with them, and IV’s heart breaks because there is little he can do to make the fact the loss feel less in the wake of all of it before him now.
He's never known what he had to lose, and now, he does.
Now, his mourning can begin in some small way.
Mourning for the little boy who would’ve had a collection of Pokemon cards bigger than a library now had he only been allowed to enjoy such childish things.
Mourning the little boy who cried himself sore in silence and never knew comfort.
Mourning for the little boy who should have been enveloped in hugs and made to feel little and loved, instead of small and weak.
No one can change those things.
No one can rewrite that little boy’s story.
Not IV.
Not II.
Not III.
Now, that lonesome little boy is a brutalized young man.
And that is perhaps the cruelest part of loving someone the way they’ve chosen to.
Sometimes you arrive after the damage is already done.
Sometimes, all you can do is try to stitch them back together when it's all over.
IV holds Vessel for what feels a long time.
Eventually, II and III join them quietly.
No one says anything.
They all seem to wordlessly understand the gravity of his loss.
They’ll savor every moment of happiness their youngest bandmate shares with them, but in accepting him, they’ve also accepted the darkness that has loomed over him his whole life.
Eventually, the man is just slumped between IV’s thighs, head resting against his stomach now.
He’s cried himself right to sleep.
III slips in and scoops up his limp frame with a louder-than-he-means-for-it-to-be groan, feeling every one of his thirty years of life as his back screams at the awkward angle and pain to his spine as he lifts the younger man into the cradle of his arms.
He carries him to the couch, sits down on it and holds him tightly, though.
II covers them with a blanket silently.
IV returns in a new pair of joggers and Vessel’s 'secret' teddy.
He tucks the bear under Vessel’s arm carefully and presses a kiss to his forehead.
III presses one of his own into the man’s temple and gazes sadly at him.
II comes over, kneels beside his sleeping frame and, suddenly, his own eyes are spilling over.
III reaches for his fingers, and he accepts them.
He rests his ear over Vessel’s heart lightly, and lets himself weep for all the things his friend has lost and all the things that they'll never be able to offer him back.