"Hey, Davy," Micky said quietly as he came down the stairs, noticing Davy on his knees on the living room floor, right in front of Mr. Schneider's table. Davy looked up at him and gave him a quick smile before turning back to the table. Micky frowned and came down, confused.
"What's up?" Micky asked, crouching down beside him. Davy looked at him, then back under the table where Micky could see that Peter was hiding.
"Peter?" Micky asked and Peter turned to him, mouth hung open.
"Micky," he said after a moment of thought, almost like it was difficult to remember him or his name. It was hard not to get hurt by it. Still, he put on a smile and nodded.
"Yeah, that's right," he said, leaning in as he tried to get a little closer to him. "It's me."
Peter looked at Micky, then at Davy, a concentrated frown on his face as he constantly switched his stare between the both of them.
"What're you doing under there?" Micky asked him and Peter thought about the question for a moment before shaking his head slowly.
"That's nice…" he whispered, bringing his knees to his chest.
"It's nice under there?" Micky clarified, confused by the answer. Davy let out a sigh.
"He's been saying that all day," he said in a more serious tone. "I can't tell if he actually means it or not."
"Oh…" Micky said quietly, looking down, not knowing what else to do. Davy nodded and both turned to look back at Peter.
"How long has he been under there?"
"About an hour or so."
Micky frowned, looking back over at Davy, who ignored him as he turned his attention back to Peter.
"Are you alright?" He asked again and once again, getting no response from Peter. He let out another sigh and got up.
"Alright," he said with a frustrated huff, throwing his hands up into the air as he made his way toward the couch. "I give up."
It was then that Peter poked his head out from under the table, watching Davy with his head titled to the side in curiosity. He timidly lifted his hands up in a similar fashion and whispered "I give up" to himself as he tried to understand the action. He did it again until he was caught and noticed by Micky.
"What're you doing?" He asked gently, causing Peter to instantly stop and look at him. He hesitated, not knowing how to answer the question but after a moment he straightened up, trying to mimic Micky's posture.
"What're you doing?" He repeated, cocking his head toward the side as he looked up at Micky with a blank stare.
Micky frowned and scooted back, causing Peter to push himself further back under the table, watching and imitating his every move closely. After a moment, Micky stood and followed Davy into the living room, not knowing what else to do and not wanting to see his friend like this. Peter poked his head out from under the living room and watched both of them, confused why they both had left him. He knew he must've done something, but had no idea what that would've been.
"Where's Mike?" Micky asked, sitting down beside Davy who only shrugged.
"He went out for a while," he sighed. "That's all he said. Pete's been hiding ever since he left."
"At least now we know who his favorite is," Micky joked nervously, getting no response whatsoever from Davy.
Just as he said this, Mike stepped in through the door, his bag slung around his shoulder and another in his hands.
"Mornin' Mick," he said, coming in.
"It's one in the afternoon," Davy corrected him and Mike shrugged, setting the bags on the kitchen table.
"Did you just wake up?" He continued to Micky who nodded.
"Well, I've been up for a little while and—"
"Mike!" Peter said proudly once he recognized the voice, sticking his head out from under the table.
"Peter?" Mike jumped, a frown growing on his face as he went over to the source of the sound. He got down onto his knees, wanting to get a better look at him.
"What're you doing under the table?" He asked worriedly.
"He went under there the second you left," Davy explained with a shrug. "I don't think he wanted you to leave."
"Oh, Peter," Mike sighed, turning back to look at him. "I'm sorry I left."
"That's nice…" he said, and Mike smiled, nodding.
For a moment, he thought he could see Peter trying to smile as well. He couldn't quite seem to get it and once Mike stood up again to go back into the kitchen, he gave up, poking his head back out from under the table to see what the Texan was doing.
"Okay," he said, going back to his bag on the table. "Well, I brought lunch if any of you want it."
Peter watched as the other two made their way to the kitchen and began digging through the bag, scavenging for anything worthwhile. He wondered for a moment if he was supposed to go and act like that too but his thoughts were interrupted when Mike got back down onto his knees again, right in front of him.
"Peter?" He asked softly. "You wanna come out and join us for lunch?"
"Join us?" Peter repeated and Mike nodded.
"That's right," he said. "You don't have to if you don't want to."
Peter didn't know what he was supposed to say or do. He didn't fully understand the offer and was hesitant to take it, even if he didn't know why he was. After a moment, he slowly shook his head and Mike sighed, standing up and making his way into the kitchen.
And once again, Peter was alone. He poked his head out and watched Mike as he left, he didn't know he was going to make Mike leave, he didn't know what he had done wrong. He never wanted Mike to leave and now he was gone again and Peter was alone. He frowned and pushed himself back under the table, not knowing what else to do.