Isolation

Mistakes

"Hey, Mike,

I hope you slept well. We went out for a walk. Be back soon.

Love, Peter"

We? Who did it mean by "we?" Mike wondered but kept to himself. He pushed the note into his pocket and sighed.

"They'll be back," he whispered to himself, taking a deep breath. Maybe he should join him? He didn't know where they went off to, but if it was Peter, it was most likely just a stroll along the beach. Or somewhere else with nature. He had nothing better to do so he shrugged and headed upstairs.

When he opened the door, he didn't know what he was expecting to see. But Micky sitting on his bed with a pencil in between his teeth wasn't it. Micky froze and jumped up, throwing the pencil and something else on the ground, hiding his arms behind his back.

"WHAT'RE YOU DOING HERE?!" He shrieked, seemingly terrified to see Mike. Mike took a step back, unsure of what was happening.

"What are you?" He challenged. But it was mostly to hide the fact that he had no idea what he was doing up here.

Micky sighed heavily and shook his head, sitting back on the bed. He reached down to pick up what he had thrown earlier and pushed the items into his pocket.

"I didn't think you'd be awake," he muttered, looking down.

"Well, I am," Mike frowned, taking a few steps in and sitting beside him.

"Are you okay?" He asked carefully. Micky let out a choked laugh.

"Yeah, just fine," he cried, looking anywhere but at Mike.

He finally turned to face him, and Mike could see the tears in his eyes.

"Can't you just forget about this, please?"

Mike frowned. What was he talking about?

"Forget about what?"

Micky smiled, but Mike could see the sadness behind it.

"There you go already," he choked out, keeping the facade. "I guess part of it might be nice, huh? The bad things can never hurt you anymore."

Mike stayed silent as he thought about what Micky was saying. What was Micky saying? He could feel the headache forming but pushed the feeling aside. He looked down and studied what he saw.

"Are you okay?" He asked again, and Micky stopped.

"Why?" There was a slightly nervous edge to his voice.

"You're bleeding," He said, keeping his eyes on Micky's arm. Micky gasped and tried to pull his arm away in time, but Mike grabbed it before he could.

"It's nothing. Just forget about it, please?" He was crying again, but Mike wasn't listening.

"What happened?" He asked after a moment, and Micky sighed.

"Just an accident, really! It doesn't hurt or anything."

"Looks a little too...precise to be an accident, Mick."

Micky shook his head and closed his eyes, wishing he was anywhere but here.

"Did you do this on purpose?"

Did he really have to spell it out for Mike?

"Maybe I did," he stood up, pulling his arm from Mike's grasp. "So what? You're not one to talk!"

"Micky-"

He rambled on, but Mike didn't hear a word of it.

"Micky!" He said sternly, his headache pounding.

Micky stopped and looked at him, taking a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, sitting back on the bed.

"For what?"

Micky didn't know how to respond. He looked at Mike, unable to tell if he was asking that to be comforting. Or if he genuinely didn't know what was going on.

Micky closed his eyes and leaned his head onto Mike's shoulder. Mike was a little confused by the gesture but didn't question it.

"Micky, are you okay?" He asked after a minute, concern clear in his voice.

Micky sniffled and looked up at him, hoping to get his answer.

"Why?"

"Your arm," Mike said, looking at it closer. "You're bleeding."

"It was an accident," Micky sighed heavily. Mistake would've been the better word. He hadn't really wanted to hurt himself. It was an act done out of frustration and despair, not self-loathing.

"Looks a little too...precise to be an accident," Mike shook his head and frowned. "Micky, did you...?"

He looked up and could see tears filling in Micky's eyes. He was crying for a different reason now.

"Micky," Mike said carefully, his headache returning. "What's wrong?"

And Micky broke down. Mike was quick to come and comfort him, despite not knowing what set him off. He noticed his arm and felt the question on the tip of his tongue, but chose not to ask it. Instead, he sat there in silence as Micky cried into his shoulder.

"Micky!" A voice snapped him out of his thoughts and he turned to see Peter jogging over him.

"Hey," Micky managed with a smile. Peter frowned, noticing something was wrong.

"Is your arm okay?" He asked and Micky felt a rush of fear come over him. He looked down to see that his scars were hidden by his sleeve. Yet he was still rubbing them impulsively as he thought about the day from his perspective.

"Yeah," he nodded, putting his hand in his pocket.

Peter nodded as well and kicked a rock off the road.

"Is Davy home?"

Micky sighed and shook his head.

"Nah, I think he's with Molly."

Peter's eyes widened and looked up at Micky's. It took him a minute to process what Peter was thinking. He left Mike there alone without leaving any note. The notes only worked every now and then, only when it was in a place Mike could easily stumble upon. They had to leave them right in front of his face, sometimes literally. But Micky had left him with nothing.

"oh," was all he could say before racing with Peter back toward the Pad.