Dinner was very much a blur to Mike. He couldn't remember any of their conversations, he couldn't remember anything that might've happened. He couldn't even remember anything he ate.
There was someone who had followed him into the restaurant.
Mike was a pretty paranoid person. How could he not be after everything that he's been through, after all. He tried to remind himself that it was just in his head but nothing could shake his feeling of uneasiness.
"Hey man," Micky said, tapping the space in front of Mike's plate to get him to look up.
"You alright?" He asked, a genuine sense of worry in his voice. Mike put on a smile and nodded.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "Just got a little lost in my own head."
Micky frowned and exchanged a look with the other two before returning his focus back to Mike.
"You sure?" He asked. "It's okay if you're not, you know."
"Yeah," Mike said again. "Why?"
"You were whispering something to yourself," Peter said, seemingly more worried about Mike than Micky was.
"Oh," Mike frowned, trying to think of a way to pull it off. He smiled slightly and shrugged. "I'm sorry, I didn't even realize I was doing that."
Davy snorted and Micky sighed.
"Yeah, I figured," he said, a smirk growing on his face. "That's why I asked."
"I'm okay," Mike nodded, looking down at his hands. "I was just thinking."
That's when Micky began to laugh. It was what he did when he didn't know what else to do, he shook his head, laughing.
"You can be so strange sometimes," he said, grinning. "You know that?"
Mike sighed. He knew that well. In fact, those were some of the first words Micky had ever said to Mike. It had become a phrase Mike heard from Micky a good hundred times. Frankly, it actually always brought him a feeling of relief whenever Micky said it. After a hundred close calls and Mike fearing the worst "you're strange" was one of the most pleasant things for Mike to hear.
He smiled and nodded.
"So you've said."
He turned behind him and could see that there was someone looking at him, who instantly turned away when Mike had turned around. It only made Mike feel so much worse.
"Can we get the check?" He asked as calmly as he could. "It's getting late and I wanna get home here pretty soon."
"But you haven't eaten anything," Peter interjected as Mike looked down at his untouched sandwich.
"Well, I'm not hungry," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. "I can eat at home if I get hungry later."
"Come on, man," Micky groaned. "Please?"
"Yeah," Davy added. "We don't go out very often."
"I-I don't know what to say," Mike scoffed, looking at the other three. "I'm not hungry so I'm not gonna eat. When I am hungry, I might get myself something later, but in the meantime, there's no point to it."
The three began talking over one another. Each of them, in their own unique way, were pleading for Mike to eat.
"Stop," he said sternly, causing them to stop instantly. "It's a sandwich."
"A two dollar sandwich," Micky pointed out and Mike sighed.
"We can get a box and bring it home, or something like that," he explained, a hint of annoyance in his tone. "It's not like I was ever gonna just throw it out."
"Just eat a few bites," Peter suggested.
"Yeah, try and get a little food in you for the walk home," Micky agreed. "I don't want you crashing on the way."
"I won't crash, Micky-"
"I know but," he sighed. "If you wanna go home, we can go home and bring a box for your sandwich. But in the meantime, you gotta have something."
"Here," Davy said, pushing a plate of french fries to Mike. "You can have mine and Peter's chips."
Mike sighed and reluctantly took one.
"Thank you," Micky said in a soft voice, a big grin on his face as he brought his hands together. "Oh, thank you, thank you."
Mike tried not to crack a smile as he ate the fry.
The waiter passed by the table and Micky had asked him for the check and one box to bring home. The waiter nodded and looked directly at Mike for a moment before leaving. Moments later, he came back with the box and check, and Mike watched as he walked away from them. He walked and made his way to the table where the two who were staring at him were at. Then suddenly, all three pairs of eyes turned to look at him. Mike quickly turned away and looked down, shielding his face with a hand.
"Can we go, please?" He asked in an anxious whisper. Micky frowned and looked at him, thinking for a long while before speaking.
"I need to pay for this but if you want to wait outside, you can," Micky decided as he signed the check. "Have Peter or Davy go with you."
"I'll go," Peter piped in. Mike smiled slightly, already feeling more at ease as the blonde led him to a bench outside the restaurant. Neither said anything as they sat down beside one another, waiting for Micky and Davy to come out.
After too long, they finally did and Micky handed Mike a small plastic box.
And the silence continued the entire walk home. It was in the driveway where Mike, inevitably, crashed, but it wasn't because of the food or the heat in the suit. Micky frowned, upset but not surprised as he picked his friend up and carried him inside. Peter grabbed the box and put it in the fridge as Micky laid him down on the couch, throwing a blanket over him.
"Is he alright?" Peter asked from the kitchen.
"I think so," Micky sighed. "We'll know in a few hours anyway, right?"
Peter shrugged.
"I guess?"
Davy smiled and patted Peter on the back.
"He'll be fine," he said. "Mike sometimes gets claustrophobic in those crowds. I'm sure he'll be fine."