Chapter Text
‘Shit’, Mike thought, hearing his little nephews feet padding the cheap linoleum floor, presumably in search of him.
‘Mikey?” he heard the tiny voice ask. Shit, he thought he had more time. A glance at the cheap digital watch around his left wrist told him that he was right. Only twenty minutes had passed, since he had put L.J down for his afternoon nap. Normally he slept for at least an hour.
“I’m in the bathroom L.J, be right there”, he called out, hoping that L.J found nothing dangerous in the kitchen, as long as he was left alone.
Desperately he pressed down his T-shirt on his cuts, trying to stop the bleeding as fast as possible. When there was no more blood seeping from the small wounds on his shoulder he slapped on a band aid and pulled his shirt back on, checking if the blood was showing, but the shirt stayed dry and clean, he had choosen a black one just in case. He ran out of the bathroom, not wanting to leave his nephew alone any longer. He nearly sprinted into the kitchen, what was rather ambitious, considering how small the apartment was. He only needed a few steps from the bathroom into the kitchen. Two year old L.J was standing in the middle of the kitchen, cheeks reddened from sleep, his face just twisting to start wailing. Mike picked him up, shushing him, before he could even start.
The little boy snuggled his head into the crook of his neck and Mike felt a surge of protectiveness. And that made him realize just how much he had fucked up. What was he thinking, cutting himself when there was a child sleeping in the next room? A child that at any moment could need him.
Michael tried to swallow his guilt, and carried L.J. over to the bathroom to change his diaper, probably the reason, why he had woken up early. Looking around, he made sure, that he hadn’t forgotten anything. But the bathroom was as clean as he could get it. Strange stains on the floor and the calcified faucet had, until now, resisted every attempt of his vigorous scrubbing. He probably wouldn’t give up. Couldn’t give up. Linc sometimes laughed about his obsessiveness. But at least someone was cleaning.
He finished changing L.J. and carried the still sleepy child into the living room, where he lied down on the couch, L.J. on top of him. He put on some cartoons on on TV and after a while could feel the warm body of the child growing heavier. L.J. had fallen asleep again. Micke closed his eyes too and also must have fallen asleep, as he was startled awake, by Lincoln picking up his son.
“Hey sleepyhead”, he said softly. Michael squinted up suspiciously. If his brother was in that good a mood, it probably meant that he was high. But his eyes were clear and his smile was bright and genuine, not dazed as usual.
“Thanks for watching him, sucks that they called me in for work on a Saturday”, he apologized again. Michael shrugged his shoulders.
“It’s fine, really. You hungry? I can make us something to eat”, he offered.
“Yeah, starving actually”, Lincoln sighed.
“Ok then”, Michael pushed himself up from the couch, trotting over into the kitchen, listening to L.J. babble and his brothers mumbled responses. He couldn’t help but smile. He was proud, that Linc was trying so hard for his son. If he had to work on the weekend, normally he would’ve come home drunk or high, if he came home at all. Mike wished, his brother would show up for him, like he did for his son, but then he shook his head at himself. He was 17, not two years old. He could handle himself just fine.
But his mood had taken a nose dive and he couldn’t get it back up. He hardly said a word during dinner and would mostly ignore his brothers attempts of having a conversation with him. But he was pissed, when Linc finally stopped trying to get him to talk.
Still being unreasonably sulky, he cleaned up dinner and then pulled out his homework. He hadn’t done anything yet, with playing the babysitter and all. But he couldn’t concentrate. It all was too much. The TV running, L.J. playing loudly with his toys, Linc on the phone and on top of that, it was hot.
The cuts he made earlier itched. Begging to be looked at, to get some company. It wasn’t enough. He longed for that feeling of calmness, right then, when the blade bit the skin, just the moment the blood formed little ruby red beads alongside the cuts. Before it’s running down and he has to take action again, cleaning it up.
He pressed his fingers into the tabletop, trying to focus on the feeling of a hard surface and the grainy wood. This was stupid, he couldn’t do it with his brother and the kid around. And anyway, he had a rule not to do it everyday. And that surely included not doing it twice a day. No matter, that he had been interrupted earlier.
He got up and walked over to the old freezer, that hummed in one corner of the tiny kitchen. He pulled out two ice cubes and squeezed them with his hands. Sometimes this helped too. Just something to concentrate on, something to keep him grounded.
Lincoln came back into the kitchen to get himself a beer. Mike guessed it was ok, because it was the first one, but he knew, that once Linc started to drink, there was more to follow. He would need to keep an eye on that, make sure his brother wouldn’t get drunk in front of his son. God, was he the only adult around here?
“What are you doing?”
He opened his fists, let the ice slide into the middle of his palm.
“Just trying to cool myself down”, he said.
Lincoln laughed, “squeezing the shit out of some ice cubes probably won’t help. Why don’t you take a shower?”
He didn’t want to go into the bathroom, where the blade was waiting for him. Didn’t anyone understand he didn’t want to be like this?
He shook his head. “I’m fine, I have to finish this. I’ll be fine”, he told his brother.
Lincoln shrugged his shoulders, “suit yourself. But you can finish this stuff tomorrow. Why don’t you come and sit with us?”
Mike nodded, maybe this could distract him.
“Hey Mike”, Lincoln threw the paperback book at him, he had left on the floor earlier, “clean up your shit. Lisa will drop off L.J. in an hour.”
Michael uncomfortably plucked at his long sleeved shirt. Now that it was fall, he didn’t need to stick to his shoulders and the part that could still be covered by a T-Shirt anymore. The guilt was still the same. But it was fine. He was careful, nobody had seen his arms in months. Why was he so worried about L.J.? It just didn’t feel right to him, that someone as fucked up as he was should take care of something so precious as his nephew.
“Linc, I have this history assignment with some kid from my class, we made plans to meet in the Library today. Sorry, I didn’t know that you would have L.J. today.”
Lincoln at least had the decency to look disappointed, “that sucks man, I thought we could go watch a game together”, he said.
“Yeah, I know. But the thing is due to Monday”, he lied. Not only that if he really had an assignment due on Monday he would have started the work a great deal earlier and he never, ever would willingly work with one of his classmates. He always preferred to work alone. Lincoln’s thoughts seemed to have gone in the same direction, although he came to the opposite conclusion.
“Nice to hear, that you are making friends”, he said.
“Yeah, I guess”, he shrugged his shoulders and turned away. He was a good liar, but he didn’t want to take any chances of getting caught red handed.
“I have to get going, or I’ll miss the bus”, he told his brother.
“If you help me clean up here, I’ll drive you”, Linc offered.
Mike shrugged his shoulders, this mostly wasn’t his mess, but he helped to pick up empty beer bottles and pizza cartons anyways.
“Be home at ten”, Linc called after him, as he pulled away from the curb.
Mike nodded to himself and slipped through the huge doors of the beautiful public library.
He found himself a quiet spot and pulled out his tattered copy of the Grasharp and got comfortable. It wasn’t often, that he could read in peace, someone always wanted something from him.
But still he would rather be with his brother and nephew right now, having fun. It wasn’t often, that Linc eased up on him and he really should enjoy those moments instead of hiding away like that. Mike knew, that he was still punishing himself for slipping up again, but he didn’t know what else to do. The guilt and the shame of what he was doing was overwhelming and when he wasn’t careful, those feelings had the potential to push him right over the edge again. As absurd as it was, he sometimes cut, because he couldn’t wrap his head around the fact, that he was cutting himself.
He could feel himself getting antsy. It was like an itch he couldn’t scratch, but not under his skin, more like in his gut, his whole body seemed to be hollow, craving something to fill it.
He curled up his toes in his shoes, trying to release the anxiety. He actually wanted to get up and pace, but whenever he did that, no matter how quietly he was doing it, people frowned at him or looked annoyed. So he had learned to get the nervousness out by moving his toes or rubbing his fingers. Picking the sore around his thumb led to it not being able to heal for months. Linc always scolded him for chewing on his nails, so he tried not to do it, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t leave his fingers and nails alone completely. With his index finger he pressed down on the red, slightly swollen bit of his thumb cuticle. It hurt. Maybe that would be enough. He picked up his novel, that had slipped onto his lap and tried to concentrate. But after a while he noticed, that he was reading the same sentence for the fourth time now. He put the book down and sighed. If he couldn’t disappear into what he was reading, all the annoying little things became so prominent, that he couldn’t ignore them anymore. There was an older black man sitting three tables away from him, who smelled strongly. He didn’t stink, not that prominent smell of someone who hadn’t showered in a long time, but he had the strange body odor of someone who spend a lot of time in spicy smelling places, like a kitchen or a flat, where someone regularly cooked some kind of curry. Mike looked around to find a place that would attack his senses a bit less.
Farthest away from the Curry man sat a girl who pretended to read, but mostly scribbled on her notebook. Mike hated the way her bracelets jingled together and on top of that, she was chewing her gum with her mouth mostly open. Maybe he had to look for an even quieter section of the library.
He stood and pulled his book to his chest and swung his tattered backpack over his shoulder.
He walked by the people that came in just for checking an information. Those people wouldn’t sit down or even pull off their coats and Jackets.
Deeper into the library you saw the casual readers lounging on chairs and the occasional sofa, leisurely thumbing through their novels, looking content. Then came the section with the compartmentalized science books and the students sitting by their chosen professions, studying for test and exams. He avoided the law and the medicine department, because they were always packed with stressed out students and slipped between the rows of books that belonged to the art history section. Gently he slid his fingers along the spines of the books. Pausing when a particular book seemed interesting to him. At the oder end of the bookshelf he had added three more books to his arms. One was about the design of gothic church windows, one about modern architecture in L.A and one was an exhibition catalog on renaissance paintings. There was only one other occupant present. A young man, all dressed in black and with thick rimmed glasses sitting on his nose. He looked up shortly, when Mike walked past him, but seeing that he was no pretty girl, the other boy turned back to his books.
Mike sat himself down as farthest away from the other student as possible. He closed his eyes for a moment. Finally it was quiet. He opened up the book about architecture first.
Hours later he took a glance on his watch. It already was 8 pm, he had to get going. It already would be dark outside. With a sigh, he collected the books and the empty wrapper of the cereal bar, he had munched on earlier and walked over to the trolley, where they collected the used books.
He blinked into the fluorescent light, that now lighted the main area. He kept his eyes on the floor, to avoid getting an headache from the stab in the eyes bright lights usually gave him. He was still early enough that he could walk home. At least that way he could avoid the crowed bus. He pulled his scarf tight around his neck and lower face and pulled his collar up. At least he had remembered to bring gloves and his beanie too.
The walk had been good. Mike liked the cold wind biting his cheeks and nose. He felt like he was anchored back in his body. This whole feeling evaporated, when he opened the door and of course stepped into Linc and his girlfriend Veronica making out on the couch. The TV was running, L.J nowhere to be seen.
„Uggh, can you please make out in your bedroom, Linc?“ Mike shouted against the noise. Linc grinned up at him over the back of the couch, while at least Veronica had the decency to look at least a little bit embarrassed.
„Hi Mike“, she said with a smile.
„Hi Veronica“, he greeted back.
She leaned forward and turned down the TV to a whisper. Mikes heart opened up for her just a little bit wieder. Usually he was suspicious of pretty all people that weren’t his brother or his nephew, but Veronica had grown on him. He liked the kind ways she tried to make him feel comfortable. Like turning down the music when he came into the room, or dimming the lights without him needing to ask. She didn’t comment when he didn’t want to try something she had cooked. She didn’t get angry, instead she reassured him, that it was ok and sometimes offered to make him something else.
„Hey buddy, Veronica was thinking about staying for tonight, but L.J is supposed to stay with me till tomorrow afternoon. I‘ve put him into your bed, I hope that’s ok?“
Mike forced a smile and cheerfully said „of course“, while inside he felt like a trap snapping shut. What the hell was wrong with him? It was just L.J. He loved his little nephew. He loved taking care of him, he loved cuddling him. It wasn’t the first time L.J. slept in his bed, so why was he feeling so panicky? He quickly disappeared into the small bathroom. He felt heat in his chest and face. Why did he feel like crying? There was no reason to. Deep breaths. Wasn’t that, what they always showed on TV when someone was having a panic attack? Deep breaths. Was he having s panic attack? He breathed until he felt like he was getting a bit light headed. But he had himself under control again. He wouldn’t cry just because something unexpected happened, he wasn’t a baby anymore. He might be a bad person for not appreciating his family more, but he would never let his little nephew feel like he was bothering him. So he brushed his teeth, starring into his own eyes in the mirror and hating himself deeply for being such a special Snowflake again. He didn’t dare to open the cabinet and therefore skipped the mouthwash.
Despite almost having a breakdown just 5 minutes ago about having to share his bed with L.J., it was actually nice to share his bed with the kid. The little boy did not wake, when he climbed in and gently moved him so that they would comfortably fit in together, but he subconsciously snuggled up to him and Mikes heart hurt with love and protectiveness. He closed his eyes and relished the feeling of being so close to someone. Of knowing with absolute certainty that he loved someone.