**This is one of my darkest and heaviest stories and deals with a lot of different sensitive topics. A lot of it isn't shown, but discussed. Still, just be aware that this will get into many heavy things, more so than my other stories, so read at your own risk. If these topics including depression, drug abuse, r*pe, self harm, and more are triggering to you, this may not be the story for you. Please stay safe everyone**


"You playing chess?" Micky asked with a grin. Davy only nodded in response.

"With yourself?" Micky clarified and Davy let out a huff.

"It's not like I have anyone else to play with," he said harshly. Micky froze, a little startled and offended by the statement, but still tried to keep his cheerful demeanor.

"Are ya winning?"

The comment caused Davy to smile for the first time in months, the first time since Mike and Peter left. Micky missed Davy's usual happy and goofy personality, it was nice to see that smile again, even if it only lasted for a moment.

"Wanna play?" Davy asked, already resetting the board. Micky grinned and sat down across from him.

"I'm much more of a checkers man myself, but chess is just like fancy checkers, right?"

Davy snorted, but just like everything else, his joy was short lived.

"I guess you could say that," he sighed heavily. "You go first."

Micky frowned, noticing something was wrong but was frightened to provoke him.

"What do I do?"

Davy looked up at him.

"Have you ever played chess before?" He asked in an almost condescending tone. Micky shrugged.

"Like I said, I'm not much of a chess man."

Davy sighed but nodded.

"So that's the king," he explained, pointing to a piece on the back of the board. "You have to use all your pieces and strategy to try to protect him."

"How do you win?"

"You win if you take my king. That's the goal of the game."

Micky smiled.

"Sounds simple enough."

Davy squinted at him.

"It's not that simple, Micky. I promise you it's not."

Micky shifted in his seat, becoming uncomfortable.

"Okay…" Micky started. "So what else?"

"Move a pawn," Davy said sternly.

"Which one's the pawn?"

"The ones up front are the pawns," Davy frowned down at the board. "They're called pawns because they're the front line. The sacrifices, the necessary sacrifices."

Are we still talking about chess? Micky wondered as he pushed a pawn forward. He thought about asking Davy…Micky thought Mike was scary when he got mad. Davy was something else entirely.

Davy moved a pawn of his own forward and looked up at Micky, impatiently waiting. Micky decided to play it safe, using another pawn.

It was when Davy hesitated, thinking and planning his next move, that Micky decided to speak up.

"I saw Mike earlier today," he blurted out. Davy frowned and looked up.

"Yeah," Micky said awkwardly. "He was going to the corner store for some aspirin and stuff. We sorta just bumped into one another."

Davy didn't say anything.

"He's doing pretty well," Micky continued, not liking the silence. "We were thinking about going to get lunch sometime. I'll tell him you say hello, unless if you want to come."

"I don't want to go," Davy said under his breath. Micky nodded and tapped his foot on the ground, uncomfortable.

"He actually got married awhile ago. They had met a few years ago but just recently got together and finally tied the knot.."

"When was that?" Davy asked after a minute.

"Awhile ago," Micky frowned slightly. "Back in June, I think?"

"Why didn't I know that?" He sighed, returning his focus back down to the board in front of him, pushing forward a piece.

Micky remembered when an invitation came in the mail…addressed solely to him. Davy wasn't invited and Micky sadly wasn't surprised by that fact. Mike had explained why in the invitation, but Micky didn't need the explanation. He knew very well why Davy wasn't invited to their wedding.

Micky hadn't gone just so Davy wouldn't figure out about it.

"Oh," Micky said, straightening up in his seat. "It's okay. I guess I just forgot to tell you."

Davy looked at him, sensing that wasn't the reason. He let out a sigh and stared at the board.

"It's your turn. Move a pawn."

Micky frowned and moved a pawn forward, taking one of Davy's.

"Beginner's luck," Davy muttered and Micky smiled slightly.

"You could always just let me win."

Davy laughed.

"Sure," he said, smirking. "Sure, I'll let you win."

"Great!" Micky beamed, reaching across the board and grabbing Davy's king piece. "Thanks."

Davy was mortified.

"You can't do that!" He yelled as Micky laughed.

"Aww, come on Davy. But you said I could."

"How could you do that?!"

Micky squinted at him, a little confused by the response.

"Davy, it was just a joke," he said and as if to prove his point he smiled. Just like everything, it didn't last long.

Davy jumped up from his seat and forcefully snatched it out of Micky's hands.

"I'm so sick and tired of you acting like you can do whatever you want without any consequences!" He snapped, returning the king to its rightful place on the board.

"Hey!" Micky frowned, standing up as well. "I didn't do anything so before you go after me—"

"Oh, you didn't do anything?" Davy scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "You're the reason Peter left, and Peter is the reason Mike left. It's your fault we're in this mess."

Micky frowned, not wanting to provoke him more. But he couldn't help it.

"I heard what Peter said. He wasn't talking about me."

"Oh, so is it my fault?" Davy asked, playing the victim.

"YES!" Micky yelled. "I admit that we all probably played a part in hurting him, but at least Mike and I own up to it."

"Mike ran because he's a coward too—"

"Oh my god!" Micky laughed, in awe. "Listen to yourself! You're the coward!"

Davy stiffened.

"And you're the screw up. Get out," he ordered. Micky took a step back.

"You're the coward," he repeated, making the realization himself. "Peter and Mike left because they were smart enough to see what you really are."

Davy frowned and turned away from him.

"Get out, Micky. God, can't you do anything right?"

Micky crossed his arms over his chest.

"I'm the screw up," he said, quoting Davy. "It's my job to not do things right."

Davy frowned.

"You know that's not what I meant—"

"What did you mean then?"

He sighed and looked down.

"I don't know."

Micky glared at him and walked back toward the chess board. He grabbed his king and tossed it over at Davy.

"There ya go, Davy," he said darkly. "You win. I give up."

And with that, he ran upstairs. Moments later, he came back down, carrying a suitcase. Davy wasn't there. The chess board was still set up. The kings had been swapped, a symbol of both Davy and Micky's surrender to one another. There was a scribbled note simply reading "I'm sorry" in Davy's handwriting. Micky sighed and set his suitcase down, thinking it through. He waited for Davy's return, hoping the two could speak with one another. When Davy never showed, Micky was able to make his decision. He picked up his suitcase and walked out. He was practically hoping he wouldn't have to ever go back.