Isolation

Dinner

"Hey, Mike!" Peter beamed, not expecting Mike to be awake when they returned. Mike looked up at them curiously as they walked, but said nothing.

"We have food," Davy tried, and Mike frowned.

"I was hoping I could make something."

"Oh," Peter didn't know what to say. He didn't like seeing his friends upset about anything. Especially something as simple as food. "Well, maybe another time?"

Davy shot him a look, and Peter mentally retracted his statement.

"Well, we brought Italian for tonight. We just got you spaghetti with meatballs because I didn't know what else to get."

Mike looked at Davy, then back at Peter, confused by their previous silent interaction. But closed his eyes and nodded.

"Okay," he sighed and sat down at the table, hiding his face in his hands.

Peter slowly walked over and put his hand on Mike's shoulder. He jumped up at the touch and stared at him with wide, terrified eyes.

"It's just me," Peter whispered with a comforting smile. Mike stared at him and frowned, almost like he was having a hard time recognizing the face in front of him.

"Mike..." He said, frowning as well. He was becoming worried. "It's me, Peter."

Mike looked at him closer and finally nodded slightly.

"Right, Peter."

It was then that Davy turned around at the two. That was odd, he thought to himself.

"You, uh, feeling okay, Mike?" He asked hesitantly.

"He looks fine to me," Peter observed and Mike nodded.

"I'm fine, that's why." He said quickly, not wanting to be the center of attention.

He was fine, wasn't that obvious?

Davy glared at him for a moment, not believing it.

"Whatever," he shrugged to himself, beginning to take out the food. Peter slowly followed, still turning back around to make sure Mike was still fine.

He watched them curiously. Why were they acting so weird around him, he wondered but said nothing. He closed his eyes and leaned back. He could feel the headache forming but chose to ignore it.

"Hey, Mike?" Peter called out, back facing him.

"What, Peter?"

"Do you know where Micky is?"

Micky was gone?

He opened his eyes and looked around. Sure enough, the drummer was nowhere in sight.

Peter turned around and ran over to Mike, seeing how much pain he was in.

"It's okay, it's okay," he said quickly. "Just forget I said anything. It doesn't matter."

"Mmm," he groaned and closed his eyes. "S'okay."

"Here," Davy said, placing a glass of water on the table and holding out his hand. Inside his palm were two small pills. Mike frowned and looked up.

"It's just aspirin for your headache," he explained, trying not to get frustrated. He could never understand how Mike always would rather be in pain than take something to help it. "It might help."

Mike stared at his hand, mentally debating whether or not he should. It surprised both Davy and Peter when he sighed and, reluctantly, took the pills.

"There," Davy grinned, feeling accomplished. Mike just frowned at him.

"Nothing happened."

"Well, yeah! You have to give it time, you know!"

Mike sighed and leaned back, squeezing his eyes shut.

"What is it?" Peter asked softly.

"Too loud," he said, barely above a whisper, and Davy frowned.

"Sorry, Mike," he whispered, getting flashbacks to when...

"S'okay," Mike said quietly. "Not your fault. I have a headache."

"Are you okay, Davy?" Peter asked, now noticing how tense he had become.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said shakily, and Peter nodded with a sad smile.

"It's okay if you're not."

Davy sighed, not taking his eyes off of Mike, who seemed oblivious to the other conversation going on.

"No, I'm not okay."

"I know what you mean," Peter sighed. "But if you need to talk, I'm always here."

"Thanks." He nodded with a slight smile. The moment was interrupted when Micky bounded down the stairs.

"Hey!" He beamed as he approached the group, only to freeze when he saw Davy and Peter's gazes.

"What?"

Davy gestured to Mike, who was awkwardly crouched down in his seat, his hands over his head.

"Oh," Micky mouthed and slowly walked over to Mike.

"Hey, Mike," he whispered, and Mike groaned in response. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," he lied, trying to fight the wave of pain and fatigue that had hit him.

Micky smiled slightly, hopeful. The Mike he knew would never let any of them know if he was in any sort of pain.

"Okay, well, why not you go and rest for a little while?" He suggested and Mike shook his head slightly, sitting upright. He looked like he was about to crash at any moment.

"I'm fine," he said rubbing his forehead. Micky looked over at Peter and Davy, hoping they'd tell him what to do. They only shrugged in unison.

"Okay then," Micky decided and walked over to the kitchen. Peter and Davy followed and presented the food. They didn't get five minutes into the meal when Mike finally did crash, his face landing in his spaghetti.