When Peter opened his eyes again, he was alone in the dark. He was always alone these days, so he thought nothing of it. He sat up, rubbing his forehead, feeling a headache begin to form. He was just exhausted, even after a full night of sleep.
He let out a sigh as he threw his legs over the side of his bed, rubbing his eyes as he made it onto his feet.
As he started his way down the stairs, he was immediately attacked by the smell of breakfast and could hear Mike humming a melody as he prepared the coffee.
"Morning, Peter," he said, looking up at him as he came down and into the kitchen. "In case you were wondering, Micky and Davy went out to the beach. If you wanna go after breakfast, I can take you there."
Peter nodded slowly, looking around and immediately noticing the others absences.
"And if not," Mike continued. "They should be back in a little while. Don't worry."
"Okay," Peter said after a minute of silence with a slight nod. Mike smiled slightly and nodded as well, turning to face the blonde.
"How'd you sleep?" He asked, trying to be polite.
That was a complicated question to Peter. From the looks of it, he must've slept the entire night, but he still felt like he had been up all night.
"That's nice…" he said under his breath. It was an impulse response, he wasn't even aware that he had said that until he saw the strange look on Mike's face when he did.
"You slept nice?" Mike asked, only trying to clarify and understand the comment. Peter looked at him, unsure of what Mike was saying.
"That's nice…" he repeated, not knowing what else to say. Mike let out a sigh and nodded, realizing he probably wasn't going to get an answer from his friend.
"Well, breakfast is ready whenever you want it," he explained, going back into the kitchen and gesturing to the pans on the stove, filled with eggs, bacon, pancakes, and more that he had made.
He went into the cabinet to grab a plate for Peter, setting it down on the counter. When he turned back around, he saw that Peter was still looking at him, his head tilted slightly to the side. Mike frowned.
"I can get it for you," he said, now gesturing to the table. "What do you want?"
No answer.
"Peter?" Mike asked and Peter frowned.
"You can sit down, you know."
Peter stayed frozen, squinting at Mike as he tried to decipher what he was saying, unable to.
"Or you could stand if you want to," Mike suggested with a shrug, realizing he wasn't getting through to him. "It's fine either way."
That was when Peter decided to sit down, cross legged on the floor. Mike let out a sigh but put on a smile as he grabbed the plate and went into the kitchen.
"You wanna eat on the floor today?" He asked, saddened but not surprised when he didn't get a response from Peter.
He let out a sigh as he got down on his knees, wanting to be at eye level with him.
"What do you want for breakfast?" Mike asked again. "We have eggs, pancakes, bacon, and I can make you anything else if none of that sounds interesting."
Peter bit his lip, not knowing what he was supposed to say to that. Before he had the chance to speak, Mike sighed and stood up.
"How do pancakes sound to you?" He asked. "I made them with blueberries and bananas, just how you like it."
Peter looked at him for a moment before nodding slowly. He wasn't even entirely sure what he was agreeing to when he heard Mike sigh and go into the kitchen. Frowning, Peter scooted closer, watching his friend's every move closely, wanting to understand what he was doing.
"How many?" Mike asked, holding a spatula in one hand and a plate in the other.
"How many?" Peter repeated, as if hearing it in his own voice will cause the question to make more sense. Mike nodded, but kept his back to Peter.
"How many pancakes do you want?" He asked, taking deeper breaths to try to stay calm and collected. "One or two?"
"One," Peter said finally and watched as Mike served a single pancake onto his plate. He grabbed a napkin, a fork and knife and carefully got down onto his knees, presenting the plate in front of Peter.
Peter didn't know what to do, so he just stared at Mike, confused by the gesture.
"Are you hungry?" Mike asked and Peter slowly shook his head. Letting out a groan, Mike took back the plate and utensils and set them down on the counter.
"Well, I guess you can eat when you're actually hungry," he muttered, going over to the couch and hiding his face with a hand. Peter didn't say anything as he instead reached up and grabbed his plate, taking it back. He stared down at it for a long time before taking the pancake in his hands and taking a small bite, still trying to process what had just happened.