October 19, 1990

Mike takes out the kitchen knife he'd been hiding in his pants. He slips out quietly to the corner of the kitchen to see the drunken man wobbling around in his living room. He just had to wait for the man to lie down, and lose a bit of consciousness. He would eventually, and until he did, Mike would wait for him. He'll slip around quietly and kill the bastard. Mike pictured the man perched on his back steaming in his own filth while pissing a pool around his pants, struggling to breathe, choking. Taking his last breath. It will be end of humiliation- no longer lingering home with a torn gaping asshole and blood streaming against the water, painfully blistering and scabbing. Trevor won't have to cry over Mike taking this for him because it won't fucking happen anymore. This was the only way. Mike was interrupted by his own reverie, thoughts flowing like musical notes. He huddled in the comfort knowing that it would be over soon, but he reminded himself there is no point in visualizing the dramatics until it was done.

Harvey was smiling as he picked Marcus up after school, full of nervous energy.

"HARVEY!" his brother ran over clinging onto him.

Harvey ruffled Marcus' hair. "I'm going out tonight okay? I want you to stay home and be good. I'll only be a couple of hours."

Crossing the street now. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going out with a couple of friends."

"Who's going to read my book to me?" Marcus asks.

"You're capable of reading it yourself, kid. I'll read to you tomorrow." Harvey pulls Marcus in closer as they slowly make their way home.

"No. Tonight, when you come back."

"Okay, fine. I'll read you a chapter" Harvey says.

"Three chapters."

Harvey rolls his eyes but smiles at the same time.

Marcus grins a toothy grin. They're both laughing and walking home and Harvey can't bear the thought of being away from him when his classes at the community college start.

Mike was glad that Trevor's mother took them to Montana to visit her parents for a couple of weeks. Timing poised the perfect opportunity. Trevor doesn't know this and Mike plans to keep it from him. He'd argue against Mike taking the blame or living with the secret, but ultimately Mike is doing this for the both of them. Because he can't take anymore of this. Because Trevor's the closest thing he has to a brother and he will go to great lengths to protect them. Mike's eyes are wet and his hands are shaking in premeditation, but he's patient and willing to wait. The man should slip into unconsciousness soon.

It was quick. As if conjured by his own concentration, the man appeared to be snoring lightly. Filthy fucking shit, Mike thought. He takes out the fish wire from his pocket and holds a stronger grip on the kitchen knife. It's now or never.

Harvey is freshly showered and dressed. Marcus is standing in front of the bathroom watching Harvey put on his watch.

"Okay kid, what are the rules again tonight?" Harvey asks.

"I know it already," says Marcus.

"I know you know. But that's not what I asked," Harvey responds simply.

Marcus jumps in circles as he speaks. "Lock the doors, do my homework, don't make noise, don't disturb the neighbors…"

"I'll only be a couple of hours okay? I'll be back before you know it and dad will be home too."

"Okay, then…. Bye Harvey," his brother says.

Harvey closes the door and locks it. When he arrives at the bar (fake ID in tow), he meets with Scottie and her boyfriend. The music is lounge-y and a bit awkward. Not what he expected but what would he know? He's 18 and he wants to be young and reckless like the rest of his peers.

Mike walks lithely about and stood behind the man and, as if by a natural seething force, leans in and wraps the fish wire around the man's neck and pulls. The man chokes and struggles and Mike continues his fierce grip on the wire, never once letting go. The man is struggling and gagging and is trying to loosen the wire.

Mike finds the courage to spit on him, "You listen to me, you miserable fucking pig. You listen to me very carefully. You are not to move or speak, otherwise I will make sure you suffer slowly to death. You are going to die regardless but I'm giving you an option to go quickly even though you deserve none of it."

Scottie looks beautiful and Harvey's worried that he's being too transparent, that her boyfriend will see right through him. She talks to him about her classes at Columbia and rants about the course load she's currently taking. Harvey nods when appropriate but he's more interested in what's underneath her skirt and well, he will, in time, come to the conclusion that his implications were hazy at best. Tonight was about catching up, and drinking beers.

Harvey is ordering a 3rd round of beers for his friends when out of the corner of his eye, he sees someone he vaguely recognizes. He pays little attention until he hears the voice.

"Is that who I think it is? The trashy Specter boy, is it?" the voice behind him drawls.

Harvey turns the corner and sees the man. He was dressed in a dark blue suit and matching pants, eyes piercing like daggers as he looked at Harvey. Harvey quickly recognized him to be the man his mother left them for. Recognition quickly turned to anger when he thought about his father and brother. The million emotions he felt were only tempered by the beers he had. The hurt was still there, lurking, rising above his anger but he pushed it back down, willing himself to drown it out like its first tread to water to get his head straight. He wasn't going to let this man get to him.

"What the hell do you want?," Harvey asks, his face a mix of hurt and anger.

"You following me here, boy?" the man asks, his sharp features gritty and hard. Harvey gave him a hard look. His delayed reaction had nothing to do with the fact that his accusations were ludicrous but more of the fact that he was still looking for a fight even after all this time.

"Why the hell would I follow you here, you asshole?" Harvey retorted. And with that, Harvey tried to move around him. The man, James, he recalled, with sharp remembrance, catches Harvey by the throat and presses hard, pushing him onto the wall. Harvey tries to push him away, tries to let anyone see him, but the bar was too dark and busy on a Friday night for anyone to notice. Harvey continued to kick with as much force as he can, teeth bared, arms gripping at James' hands. He eventually kicks James in the stomach and the man crumples in pain. Harvey wondered why, of all the chance encounters, what the odds were of seeing him at this bar. It's been nearly two years since Harvey had last seen his mother.

"Your homeless bum of a father; tell him to stop calling Lily for money. Piece of shit," he spits, and walks off. Harvey stilled before he ran off, not even bothering to say goodbye to his friends.

Mike is running as fast as he is able, his legs taking on a bigger stride than he was normally used to. There is a pain forming in his chest and he wasn't sure if it was the feeling of adrenaline coursing through his body or the guilt making him grow brittle with regret. Mike's pants are loosening as he runs and his hands make habit to hold them up. The air around him is chilly and he is not certain what will happen after this.

He starts to feel sick and runs toward some bushes and vomits in them, panting hard and counting his footsteps as he struggles to stand. He suspects someone will find the man's body in there soon.

He wishes for comfort. Normality. Mike curses himself for his own sake. His mother is dead, his father is dead, and now Trevor's father is also dead. He wishes so hard that maybe what he did was right, that this was the only way as his brain gave him no him other logical solution. But the moment is fleeting and Mike is scared, the realization hits him like a bullet train– he kicks himself and punches his face over and over until his nose bleeds, feeling the raw pain of being battered. He pictured the man lying on the couch, cold and dead. Mike hits himself harder, and clenches his stomach as if to protect himself from the dead man. The irony is not lost to him, but this is too much to comprehend and his adrenaline is in full speed. He's crying and can't maintain his composure.

The man is dead. Death is setting him free.

Harvey is running as fast as he can, blood rushing into his ears as he remembers his mother's soothing voice cradling him in comfort when he was exhausted; his mother's laughing form as she bends over and kisses Harvey and Marcus. Her warmth and motherly love. His eyes are trickling with the promise of new tears, the remnants of alcohol slowing wearing off. He finally reaches the apartment and enters. His brother is fast asleep on the couch with the television on. Their father wouldn't be home for another two hours. Harvey walks quietly to their shared bedroom, locks the door and flops himself onto his bed face first in his pillow and lets himself go. Any shred of dignity is absent from his crying form as he clenches the pillow like a lifeline. He sobs desperately, clinging onto to whatever plea of absolution he could get. His pent-up anger turns him hysterical, sweeping him away like an angry ocean wave – unforgiving, unrelenting and far too strong. He sobbed for her as if she had died – her betrayal so strong Harvey found it hard to breathe, choking on his own saliva and when their family, struggling together in the perils of the economy, ripped away when he needed his mother the most. He is only 18 but everyone needs a mother. And for another minute and a half, Harvey cried against his pillow, relentlessly letting out all the pain he'd kept inside for the past two years.

The local police deemed it as one of the strangest suicides they had ever seen. No sign of forced entry, no fingerprints on the knife other than the deceased, no suspected foul play. The crime scene was obscured by blood and had been a horrific sight even in Brooklyn. The coroner had announced later that Frank Evans had managed to inflict a significant amount of damage upon himself before his death - stabbed himself with an 8-inch carbon steel knife after a failed attempt to hang himself. There was a note - addressed to his wife and son - that a drug lord was after him for money and the only way his debt would be settled is this. They would come after his family if he didn't have the money. It was an ugly death.

Author's Note:

Their ages in this story correspond to the ages they are in RL. Mike was born in 1981, and Harvey 1972.
For the sake of this fic, let's just pretend Mike is very strong for his age though it can likely happen through intense determination so... I don't know.

There is no significance in the italicization in Mike's POV- it was just simply to differentiate the two parallels. I probably don't have to do that going forward if it looks oddly placed. Please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions, I greatly welcome it!

I hope you've enjoyed it!