Chapter Text
"You won't believe what I did."
Mikey sighs, ignoring the voice and rolling over in bed. The sunlight is streaming in from the window behind the thin curtains, hitting his eyes. He shifts, pulling the covers up closer to his body, over his head, and pushes his face into the soft pillow. He does not want to wake up yet. Last night was his fourth closing shift in a row and he was not looking forward to the fifth one later today. He hated his boss, who just so happened to also be the person waking him up at the moment.
He hears an indignant sound and finally peaks out from under the blanket. He looks over at his brother Gerard, who is standing at the foot of the bed. His short red hair is disheveled, sticking straight out on one side of his head. He's wearing a half buttoned up shirt and boxers.
Mikey grumbles lowly. "Don't you have a store to open?" he says, muffled under soft fabric. A phone is shoved in his face and he squints, feeling for his glasses on the nightstand to get a better look. Immediately, he scrambles up when his eyes come into focus.
"No way," he breathes, snatching the phone from Gerard's hand, "no fucking way." He's looking at two tickets for Green Day this upcoming weekend. He's been dying to see them since he was a kid, but his parents would never let their 14-year-old son go alone with his older brother to see "that sacrilegious garbage".
"Happy birthday!" Gerard announces excitedly.
"My birthday was three months ago," Mikey says bluntly. Gerard shifts his weight, pursing his lips and giving his little brother a glare.
"Just say thank you," he huffs and Mikey rolls his eyes in response, but his lips curl up slightly.
The smile falters when he sees The Salt Shed, Chicago sprawled across the bottom. He tosses the phone back at Gerard. "Dude, you picked the wrong date or something," he sighs in annoyance, "or did you forget that we don't live in Illinois."
"No, that's the best part. We're driving over there," Gerard says with a proud look on his face. Mikey stares at him, unimpressed.
"I don't want to smell you in the car for that long."
"Whatever," he snaps, before stalking out of the room and calling out, "I try to do one nice thing for you and you can't even appreciate it." Mikey rubs his hands over his face and lets out an exasperated sigh. The bed creaks as he sits up, throwing the covers off of himself. He shuffles his feet over to the bathroom, but is stopped as an arm stretches over the doorway. It's Gerard, again.
"I already took you off the schedule. Camila is covering you, so you have no choice," he grins.
Mikey's face softens. "Thank you," he replies, "for doing this for me." They share an awkward half hug before Mikey stumbles into the bathroom and shuts the door. Gerard finishes getting ready and heads out to work without another word, but he's glad he could make his brother happy.
After a few hours of lazing about, the clock reads 11:47 when Mikey realizes he probably should leave. He stares down at the few pieces of soggy cereal swirling around in his bowl of milk. He tries to move but his feet don't seem to budge. He'd rather sit and do nothing in bed all day.
He pulls out his phone and scrolls for a little, but closes it when everyone looks happier than him on Instagram. Forcing himself up with a dramatic huff, he places his dish in the sink, and stalks to his room before throwing on a cleanish shirt and pair of pants. He looks at himself in the mirror, trying to smooth out his unruly hair. The bags under his eyes are deep purple, drooping down low. He blinks a couple times, remembering that he has to leave or he'll be late.
He brushes his teeth in a rush. Hastily, he swipes the glasses off of his face and places his contacts in, blinking rapidly as his eyes start to tear up. He buttons up his white shirt just before the neck, getting one last look in the mirror before shuffling out towards the front door, keys in hand.
He pulls himself inside the rusted blue car sitting in the driveway, putting the keys in the ignition and driving until he turns into the parking lot of a rundown, red bricked building. He parks near the dumpster, out of the way of customers. The large neon lights flash green in front of him as he walks up, Don's Diner, situated between a hair salon and a liquor store.
The diner technically belongs to his parents, but they passed it down to Gerard when he turned 21. They needed to focus on his dad, who had suffered from a heart attack a few years prior and had a bunch of health problems that followed. Gerard was acting manager, but their mom still came in to check up on things, bake the pastries, and do inventory. Working as a former health inspector, she also made sure that everything was up to code.
Mikey pushes open the glass door, hearing the familiar jingle of the hanging bell as he enters. He waves at the hostess and maneuvers his way behind the counter. Punching in his work number to clock in, he glances up quickly when his mom carefully walks out from the kitchen. She's carrying a pan of muffins and her face lights up when she notices her son.
"Hi, sweetie," she greets while placing muffins in the display case on the counter, "how are you?"
He places a kiss on her forehead. "I'm fine," he replies and he can tell his mother is patiently waiting for him to continue as she looks over at him eagerly. He sighs. Ever since his last relationship ended, Mikey could not escape the constant sympathy and concern for his wellbeing. He was going through a tough time in his life when he got dumped eight months ago. He dropped out of college, he got fired from his dream internship at the art museum, his car got hit and totaled, and he landed in the hospital with alcohol poisoning. And then that fucker dumped him, after all of that. "I can't be around you when you're like this, Mikey. You need to learn how to cope." or whatever the bullshit excuse was. What a joke.
Mikey feels a warm hand on his shoulder and is brought out of his thoughts, being pulled down into his mom's arms. He instantly melts into her safe, comforting touch. "I know that you never want to talk, but I'm here if you need anything," she whispers and gently pats his back.
"Thanks," he says flatly, trying to play off the water building up in his eyes. "I have to go greet my tables before Gee has an aneurysm." She gives him a knowing smile and nods before disappearing back into the kitchen.
- - -
The hours pass agonizingly slow and he waits as customers begin to leave little by little. Camila, the other closer for the night, is in the back, washing up the last of the dishes. Mikey locks the door, running through the list of closing tasks in his mind. Everything is practically done, so he waits by the counter, tugging his apron off.
"Ok, that's it for the night," Camila says as she appears from the back room, apron already off and hair out of her ponytail. The two walk silently to the front and Mikey switches off the "open" sign. He doesn't bother to put on his jacket, but regrets it when he feels the cool breeze hit his body as the door swings open.
He shudders as he locks the door behind him. Turning around, Camila is standing so close to him that he can see her light freckles covering her nose and cheeks.
"See you later," she says, and he watches her breath puff out. He takes a step to the side and waves goodnight before walking briskly to his car. She stands there defeatedly, wrapping her arms around herself.
Once inside, he tries starting the engine up. There's a sputtering noise and he frowns. It won't start. He sighs. He gives the key a few more turns, before giving up.
From the corner of his eye, he sees that Camila is walking towards him and he opens the door, but stays seated.
"You need a ride?" she asks, leaning against the hood of his car and crossing her arms.
"It's ok," he replies, looking away, "just get home safe."
She starts toying with the ends of her long blonde hair, cocking her hip out further. "You sure?"
"Yeah, don't worry about it. I'll be fine," he lies. Truth is, he doesn't want to be alone with her for more than five minutes outside of work. She's never hidden the way that she feels towards him, and he doesn't know how to tell her that he's not interested in that way.
"Ok," she puts her hands up, backing off, "just call me if you need anything. Wouldn't want anything to happen to that cute face of yours."
"Thanks," he replies sheepishly and quickly closes his door. He makes sure she gets into her car and waits for her to drive off, and gives a sigh of relief. He pulls out his phone, opening his contact list and scrolling through the names. It's too late to call his brother, he sleeps like a dead person. He'd never hear the phone ring. And he doesn't want to bother his parents. He stops when he sees frankie, slowly tapping on the contact.
He gnaws on the inside of his bottom lip. His thumb hesitates over the number, before tapping it. He brings the phone up to his ear, listening to it ring. "Hello?" There's the faint sound of music and muffled voices in the background.
"Hey."
"What's up, dude?"
"My car won't start. I- Is there any way I could get a ride home?"
"Sure. Just give me a few, yeah?"
"Ok."
There's a beep as the call ends and Mikey slumps back into his seat. Starting to shiver, he puts on his jacket and pulls the zipper up.
As he's sitting there, he calls for a tow truck, knowing that his car would not be there in the morning if he left it there all night. He lays his head back, facing the window. Snow starts to gently fall down beneath a flickering streetlight. After a few passing moments, a car pulls in, two streams of lights illuminating the parking lot.