This was for a writing-prompt on tumblr. ilovegamesandtoons asked for "Are you fucking insane?!" for BusterXMike.
For the Fans
"Are you fucking insane?!"
Granted, Buster expected some pushback from Mike, but that he'd lose it immediately?
No, he did not see that coming.
"Look, Mike, it's no big deal," Buster tries, but the mouse interrupts him almost immediately.
"No big deal?! Have you totally lost it?!"
Buster twists his mouth. Okay, he can handle some insults, he can handle Mike losing it, but there's a point even for him when enough is enough.
"No one is forcing you, Mike!" he says, snapping his notebook shut, turns on his heel and leaves the rehearsal room.
He ends up pacing up and down his office.
Really, the nerve of him!
Is it really that hard?
It's not like he asked something impossible, he just asked him to…
His thoughts are interrupted by a knock on his door.
"Yes, Ms. Crawly?" he asks, but when the door opens, it's not the old lizard that enters.
It's Mike.
This makes Buster stop so abruptly that he almost topples over.
Mike never knocks.
Mike never has such a contrite look on his face either.
It makes Buster frown.
"Yes, Mike?" he asks. There's still a little edge in his voice, but it's not as much as it would have been a few moments ago.
"I came to apologize," Mike says.
Good thing Buster is already standing, because that for sure would have made him stumble and fall flat on his face.
"What?" he asks.
Mike and an apology? That's almost as likely as being hit by a coconut on North Pole.
No, now that Buster thinks of it being hit by a coconut on North Pole is likelier.
Mike keeps his eyes glued to the floor as he closes the door behind him and turns to Buster again.
"I didn't mean to lose it like that," he says. "It's just that … well, doing that, it's just too much."
"Come on, Mike, that can't be true," Buster says. "It's just …"
Mike lifts a hand to interrupt him, and Buster swallows the rest of the sentence.
"I never told you how I came to singing, did I?"
Buster shakes his head.
"Okay, well, here comes the story," Mike says. "It started back in school. My parents didn't have much money, and singing was all I could do. It was the only thing I was good at. At that age, at least." A small smirk appears on Mike's face, but it's gone in the blink of an eye.
Mike shrugs. "So I started singing. On the street. People seemed to like it because they gave me money. Not much, just a few coins they tossed into the baseball cap I had placed on the ground before me. But it still was money. I took me a very long time, but at some point, I had enough money to buy my first saxophone. I couldn't afford any lessons so I kept singing until I could, and well, I was talented. So I started playing the sax on the streets, too, and earned money with it. And that's the story."
Mike lifts his gaze to look at Buster. "Music has always been something I did for money."
"And that's why it is so hard for you to do a charity concert?" Buster asks.
"Yes," Mike admits.
"I see." Buster thinks about it for moment.
"But you don't need the money any longer, do you?" he asks.
"No, not really," Mike replies. "It's just that … well, I don't know."
"How about this?" Buster suggests. "You don't do it for the money, you do it for your fans. That's important, too, isn't it? More fans, more money."
Mike nods his head a little. "That might work."
"So, you're in?" Buster asks.
"I'm in," Mike confirms.
"Awesome!" Buster calls out before he opens his notebook to check off Mike's name on his list.