The three had made their way downstairs. Davy had said something funny, causing Peter to laugh as he sat at the table. Mike stayed standing, hiding safely in his own mind. No matter how he tried, he just couldn't concentrate and focus on what was actually happening. Everything around him was essentially just white noise.
It was when Micky finally came into the pad, head hung low, that he finally snapped out of his thoughts, realizing something was wrong.
Davy frowned and made his way to him. Micky looked up and smiled, but quickly locked the door, turning his focus to Mike.
"I need to talk to you," he said sternly.
"Me?" Mike asked, becoming worried. Micky nodded quickly.
"Micky," Davy said, looking at him closer. "Are you bleeding?"
Now Peter was worried too.
"I need to talk to Mike. Alone."
"What happened?" Peter asked, standing. Micky sighed, keeping his eyes on Mike.
Davy frowned, looking in between Micky and Mike, already realizing that whatever was wrong was between those two.
"What is it?" Mike asked, a slight tremble in his voice as he spoke. Micky bit his lip, really not wanting to say it.
"Someone was looking for you," he said darkly. "He wanted to kill me if I didn't bring you to him...a-and I told him that I would..."
Peter's eyes went wide with shock and horror.
"Micky, how could you?" He asked in a whisper. Micky frowned, shaking his head.
"I-I didn't mean it! Honestly, I didn't." He explained, going over to Mike, who was now pacing back and forth. "I only said that so they'd let me go. I was never gonna..."
"It's fine, Micky," Mike sighed, laying down on the couch. "Just don't worry about it."
"Mike, someone tried to kill me," Micky said, maybe a little too harshly. "They were looking for you and don't you dare tell me not to worry again."
Mike turned away from him, already feeling guilty.
"I'm sorry that happened," he whispered.
"Mike," Micky sighed, crouching down beside the couch. "What's going on?"
Mike didn't answer as Micky took his hand, squeezing it.
"Mike, say the word and I'll go and call the cops."
Mike sighed and squeezed his hand twice. Micky frowned.
"No?" He asked. "You don't want me to go to the cops?"
Mike shook his head.
"You can't go, Micky," he said quietly. "It'll only make things worse."
To say Micky was shocked by the answer, would've been an understatement. Mike's first instinct normally would've been to go and get help, it was strange to see him like this.
"Mike," he said gently. "Are you...are you in trouble or something? Because if you are, we can try and help you."
Mike sighed and sat up, looking at Micky. Micky quickly took the opportunity to take Mike's hand again.
"Mike, one for yes, two for no," he said, already knowing that Mike knew how it worked. "Are you in trouble?"
Mike squeezed his hand once.
"So you are in trouble..." Micky frowned, putting the pieces together in his mind. "But we can't call the cops?"
Mike nodded and squeezed his hand once.
"Did you do something wrong?"
Mike frowned, having to think about it for a long moment before he could respond. He took Micky's hand and squeezed it three times. Micky looked up at him, confused.
"Three?" He asked, eyes widening. "Is that a yes or a no?"
Mike quickly pulled away, staring down at the ground.
"It depends..." he whispered.
"Huh?"
"It depends," he repeated, now building the strength to look up. "I-it depends on who you ask...I mean, if I did anything wrong or not..."
The other three looked at him, still not understanding what he was saying.
"Mike, what did you do?" Micky asked, frowning.
"No, no, no" Mike said quickly. "I-I can't tell you."
"Mike-"
"No, I can't!" Mike snapped, jumping up. "Nobody can know!"
"Mike, you can trust us," Davy added, crossing his arms over his chest. Mike could see as all three of them were now looking at him suspiciously, trying to map out what must've been bothering him.
"Yeah," Peter agreed. "We won't tell anyone."
"Nobody can know," Mike said again, feeling guilty that he couldn't tell them. It had been only a few months since he moved in with them, but he had already known them for years and considered them some of the closest friends he's had in a long time. And even then, he couldn't bring himself to say a single word.
"Not any of you, and certainly not the cops."
He looked up at the faces, each with their own combination of concern, fear, confusion, and annoyance. This hadn't been the first time Mike had refused to talk to them about something this serious and it probably wouldn't have been the last either. There was a pain in Mike's heart when he saw just how much they all seemed affected when he was bothered.
"I-I'm so sorry..." he whispered, curling himself into a ball. Micky sighed and got down on his knees beside the couch.
"It's fine," he said, taking Mike's hand again. "The second things stop being okay, you need to tell us and let us help you, please."
Before Mike could respond or defend himself, Micky continued.
"Mike, if something serious is going on and you just don't want to worry us or something, we can handle it. We want to help you."
"I-I know...it's just that-"
Micky sighed.
"Can you tell us what it is?"
Two squeezes: no.
"Is your life in immediate danger, Mike?"
Two squeezes. Micky continued.
"Are you in danger or will you be soon? Or are any of us in danger?"
Mike hesitated before giving Micky's hand a single squeeze.
"But we can't call the cops?"
One squeeze, Micky frowned and looked down at his friend.
"So what can we do?"
"Nothing," Mike said quietly, turning away from him. "I'm sorry."