"Hey, Davy," Micky whispered as he went over to sit beside him. Davy turned to look at him, but didn't say anything. He let out a sigh and turned his head back to facing the window.
"What is it?" Micky asked and Davy closed his eyes.
"I'm listening," he said coldly. "It sounds pretty important, and I'd rather you just–"
"Of course," Micky said, standing. "Say no more. I'm gone."
Davy didn't say anything as he tuned back into the conversation in his head. Micky had thought he had fallen asleep, Peter and Mike were already both sleeping and Micky was about to himself when he heard a painful yell come from the back of the car.
"What's that?" Mike slurred, still half asleep as he sat up at the noise.
"Nothing, Mike," Micky said, pushing him back down. "Go back to sleep."
Mike didn't need much more convincing. He whispered something under his breath and closed his eyes. Trying not to wake anyone again, Micky carefully crept to the back of the car to check on Davy.
Davy was no longer in his seat. Instead, he was crouched in a ball on the ground, sobbing and clutching his side. Micky frowned and got down on his knees, placing his hand on Davy's back. Davy stiffened at the touch.
"It's just me, Davy," Micky whispered comfortingly and Davy seemed to loosen up a little. "What is it?"
"Micky…?" Davy asked, voice breaking.
"Yeah?" He asked, rubbing his hand on the Brit's back.
"Tell me a joke." He said, wiping his eyes and looking up at Micky.
"Davy, are you alright?" Micky asked, pulling Davy closer to him.
"Why?" Davy asked worriedly. He was afraid Micky might have heard it all too, afraid that he might know.
"Nobody willingly subjects themselves to my jokes. Is something bothering you?"
Davy let out a laugh and Micky smiled slightly. He couldn't remember the last time he saw Davy laugh.
"Thanks," Davy said through heavy breaths, his hands returning to his side.
"Of course," Micky said quietly. "But is everything okay?"
Davy sighed and looked down.
"I don't know," he admitted. "I don't know."
"It's okay," Micky whispered as Davy rested his head on his shoulder. "Wanna talk about it?"
Davy shook his head no.
"Oh, well, that's okay then," Micky frowned. Davy wasn't usually this secretive with him so there must've been something wrong. Davy let out a sigh and closed his eyes.
"It's these doctors…" he said in a whisper.
"This again?" Micky asked, looking down at him.
"Yeah," Davy sighed. "Sorry if I don't talk about enough about my other problems that you have to keep hearing the same story again and again–"
"Davy, it's not that," Micky said, offering him a smile. "I just thought…I thought you were done."
"So did I," Davy groaned, closing his eyes. "The last treatment only apparently made things worse so I start a new one tomorrow morning. A stronger one, this time, to fix all the damage the last one did."
"But that can't all be bad though, can it?" Micky asked, trying to be optimistic as he drew Davy closer. "After all, it means they haven't given up on you yet."
"I wish they would," Davy said quietly, wiggling himself out of Micky's grip. "Just like everyone else. Then it would be so much better."
"Davy, how's that better?" Micky asked sternly.
"It would be easier and more convenient," Davy smiled and it broke Micky's heart. He really had this all figured out.
"I'd get off the train, my stop guaranteed," He said, standing. "The stop would come right away if I…and the doctors don't have to worry about me, my family won't have to worry about me. No one would have to worry anymore. They could finally all be happy. And we won't have to keep doing this."
"Davy," Micky sighed, slowly rising to his feet. He smiled and led Davy back to his seat before he found the words. "Your death isn't gonna make things any easier for anyone."
Davy scoffed.
"My life's caused enough—"
"You've not done anything wrong, though!" Micky exclaimed, wrapping his arm around him. "You gotta fight, Davy. Things are only going to be harder for you if you don't."
"It hurts, Micky…" Davy groaned in pain, tears filling in his eyes as he leaned into Micky. "It hurts so much, I don't know if I want to keep doing this."
"I know it does," Micky sighed. "But you can't stop just because it hurts. You have to push past that and keep going."
Davy frowned and looked down.
"Why can't I? I don't wanna do this…"
"Davy," Micky said, taking his hand and squeezing it. "You don't have much of a choice now. Just take it and I promise you that it's gonna be alright."
Davy didn't answer right away. He didn't know what he was supposed to say at the moment. He let out a deep sigh.
"The last one hurt…" he whispered, squeezing onto Micky's hand in return.
"I remember," Micky said sympathetically.
"And this one's gonna hurt more…"
"Davy, I'm sorry, but it probably will hurt," Micky said, turning himself to be right in front of him.
"Look at me," he said, lifting up Davy's chin so they were looking at each other. "It's gonna be alright. And the treatment's gonna help you more than hurt you. I know you can do this."
Davy smiled slightly and sniffled.
"Okay," he whispered, nodding.
"Okay," Micky repeated, letting go of Davy's hand and standing up. "You should probably go and get some sleep. I know you haven't been lately."
Davy sighed and laid down across the seat.
"I've been trying," he groaned. "Don't blame me."
"I'm not," Micky smiled. "And I know. Just don't worry about anything you can't control right now. The world's not gonna stop turning anytime soon."
Davy let out another groan as he closed his eyes. Micky sighed and laid across the seat across from Davy's. He had been here long enough to know that after something like this happened, Davy was known to have nightmares. Micky knew that Davy wasn't crying because he was worried about pain or the new treatment, and he knew that his nightmares were never about those things either.
Davy's breathing eventually evened out and Micky decided that he was asleep. Smiling slightly, Micky closed his eyes, humming a melody to himself as he drifted off to sleep.