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Mike pushed open the door with a sigh, loosening his tie as he let himself into his house. It was late, so he tried not to make too much noise as he came in, though he could immediately hear the sounds of somebody washing dishes in the kitchen, and quietly humming to themselves. Mike kicked off his shoes and hung up his coat, then dropped his keys on the nearby table before heading in.
“Hey,” he croaked, standing in the doorway and trying not to watch the muscles of the other man’s shoulders rise and fall, “you… don’t have to do that.” Mike’s voice was rough from a day of rattling off the same basic information about himself over and over again to people who probably weren’t going to offer him a job, but he was too tired to be frustrated about his lack of progress. He’d just have to wait, and see if anybody called him. “But… thanks,” he added, after the pause. “For that, and looking after Abby for me, too.”
Ness set the last dish in the drying rack and turned around, wiping his hands on the dish towel and leaning back against the counter’s edge as he gave Mike a small smile. Mike’s eyes followed the movement of his hands for a moment, wringing through the fabric, before he got himself together again and looked back up. “It’s not a problem,” Ness assured him, sincere as always. “I’m happy to help! Abby’s a great kid—coming over here is not a chore, believe me.” He let out a light laugh, then tossed the towel over his shoulder and set his hands back to rest against the countertop. His shoulders dropped, then, and his head lulled down ever so slightly, betraying a hint of something other than his usual chipper attitude. “Neither is washing up after my own mess. I’d feel bad if I left it for you to deal with after a long day.”
Mike hesitated for a long moment, holding himself steady against the doorframe with one hand, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed more than one unstarted sentence. “Uh… right. Yeah. I… appreciate it.” Desperate for something to occupy his brain with other than what he managed to parse of his… tentative friend (Mike figured that, logically, after babysitting his sister a few times, Ness probably qualified as a friend, but he’d never been great at labelling things) through the haze of constant exhaustion, Mike fished his wallet out of his pocket. “Is twenty bucks good for today? I wish I could give you more, but, I just—once I have a job, I can—”
Sometime between Mike looking down and opening his mouth, Ness had pushed himself away from the counter and moved closer; now, he gently took Mike’s hands and forced him to close his wallet again, and Mike squinted at him, confused. Ness shook his head. “I said, it’s not a problem,” he insisted, drawing his hands back and pulling on that small smile again. “How’s the job hunt going?”
“Badly,” Mike admitted with a sigh, putting his wallet back into his pocket and feeling guilty about it the entire time. “I have a shitty track record—anybody’d be crazy to hire me.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and propped his arm up against the doorframe again. “Makes me almost wish I could go back to Freddy’s.” He snorted a mirthless laugh at that. Ness didn’t know what had happened at Freddy’s, not really—the truth was insane, after all—but he knew that it had been a bad time, and that Mike had lost the position through no fault of his own (technically, the job didn’t even exist anymore). That was enough.
There was a pause, and when Mike looked back over at Ness, he seemed to be lost in thought.
“…Ness?” Mike prompted. “You alright?”
“Oh—yeah,” Ness replied, blinking at him. “Sorry, I kind of lost track of things for a second, there. I was listening, though, don’t worry!” he hurriedly said, waving his hands apologetically. Mike hadn’t been worrying. “I could put in a good word with the manager at Sparky’s, if you want. I mean, full disclosure, and don’t tell him I said this, it’s not great, but it’s better than nothing.” Ness shrugged. “And we could carpool, save money on gas—”
Mike hesitated again, trying to find his words, as rough-edged memories of previous jobs floated to the surface of his mind. “I’m not good with customers,” he finally settled on, averting his eyes from Ness’ face, “and I can’t cook.”
“You don’t need to be able to cook to be a cook,” Ness replied, with an attempt at confidence that somewhat fell through, but Mike appreciated the effort. “Well—you know what I mean. It’s just following instructions, really, not much skill required, and if you’re in the back you don’t need to talk to any customers. Just… let me say something, alright? I can’t guarantee that anything will even come of it, but if it did, it’d be some cash in your pocket.” Ness stopped, running either a thoughtful or anxious finger over his jaw. “And, no, I’m not just trying to help you so that you can pay me back. I’m serious. You don’t need to.”
Mike dragged a hand over his face, trying to wipe the exhaustion away, but failing. “You… have to stop being so generous,” Mike told him. “I feel stupid just saying thank you over and over again.” He also felt like an asshole for accepting all of Ness’ charity and not giving him anything back, but he knew Ness would just brush that off as well, and assure him that it wasn’t a weakness, or whatever, to accept help. Mike knew that—he still felt like an asshole.
Ness laughed, and it sounded just ever so slightly forced. “Now, that’s something nobody’s ever said to me before.” His arms were folded over his chest, and he dragged his fingernails over his arm as he spoke, lightly scratching at his own skin. Mike found his eyes drawn, again. Ness’ hands were mesmerizing, to Mike’s detriment, and he couldn’t even say why. “Somebody needs to take care of Abby while you look for a job, and once you find a job, you can hire a real babysitter, or something, and I can get my evenings and days off back. And, then you won’t be looking so sad all the time—I don’t think you know how truly devastating those puppy-dog eyes of yours are, Mike. If you think about it, I’m really just being selfish.”
Mike was too tired to follow Ness’ logic, so he just nodded. “Fine. Alright.”
And then Ness seemed to drift again, looking past Mike’s shoulder at something that wasn’t actually there. Mike pressed his lips together and waved a hand in front of Ness’ face.
“Hey,” Mike said, “Earth to Ness. Are you… okay? You’re not usually so—uh, distracted, I guess.”
Ness breathed a sigh, then gave Mike an apologetic look. “It’s silly,” he offered by way of an explanation. “Nothing you should bother yourself with. Nothing I should really be bothering myself with, either, but you know how it is. Just a regular customer at Sparky’s that hasn’t shown up in a few weeks, and I’m—stupidly, I know—getting worried.” He wrung his hands together awkwardly, shifting his weight onto his heels and back again. “I should probably head out—I know you’ll be wanting to check on Abby and hit the hay, so I’ll just…” He made to move past Mike, but before Mike could think, his hand was on Ness’ arm, stopping him.
“Wait.” ‘A few weeks’ was vague, but Mike knew of at least one thing that had happened a few weeks ago. “You… notice that kind of stuff?”
Ness looked down at the hand on his arm, then back up at Mike’s face. “Yeah. Especially when it’s the same weird, older guy that comes in so regularly at the same time every week that you could use him as a clock,” he explained. There was a note of something in his voice that Mike couldn’t quite place, and he held his gaze, steadily. “I’ve seen him every Sunday since I started working there, and now it’s been three weeks with no sign of him. Just… kinda wonder if he’s okay, y’know?”
Mike swallowed thickly. “By any chance,” he started, “was his name Steve?” He was being paranoid, he was sure. He was connecting everything back to Freddy’s, even when it meant nothing, even when it was just a coincidence—
“Yeah,” Ness answered, and Mike couldn’t breathe. “Mike, do you—”
Mike abruptly released his grip on Ness’ arm and backed away, nearly tripping over one of the dining room chairs but managing to keep himself upright. “I’m going to bed,” he managed, his throat getting tighter and tighter by the moment. “You, uh, know where the door is. I’ll—I’ll call you?” he stammered, trying to keep his hands from shaking as he wandered into the hallway and then back again to apologize. “Sorry. Fuck. I’m just—exhausted and being stupid. Yeah. Talk to you whenever. Bye.”
Ness looked conflicted, standing awkwardly by the door as if he couldn’t quite decide whether he wanted to stay or go. Not that he really had many options—Mike had told him to leave, and it was his house, after all. “You’re worrying me,” he finally said, bluntly. “But I’ll go. If you… want to talk about it, you… have my number,” he offered. “Just… don’t stress yourself to death.”
And then Ness left, without much more than a simple goodbye.
After checking on Abby, who was sound asleep, Mike crashed into his bed, fully clothed, and stared up at the ceiling, where a small blank spot stared back at him, from when he’d torn down his poster and some of the paint had come with it. He dragged his hands over his face and groaned, letting his skin muffle the sound, as the sights and sounds of that night in the pizzeria splintered through his brain, disjointed and painful, like shards of glass piercing his skull. He wondered, faintly, how he was supposed to explain this to Ness—or, better yet, how he was supposed to get any sleep.
Ness would accept any explanation, even if he didn’t believe it fully. He was nice like that. Mike just had to figure out what he was going to tell him.
When Mike closed his eyes, he could hear the slow thunk… thunk… thunk… of springlocks resonating in his mind. He dreamed, and it was full of blood and pain and pine trees, and golden rabbit faces and animatronic paws and hooks, and then it changed, and it was Ness. And Ness was warmth, all smiles and kind words, and then the heat turned up, and up, and up, and Ness was burning. Mike took him in his arms, anyway, and watched as the skin was seared from his hands. He screamed, and held tighter, and woke up cold and alone.
Mike drove to Sparky’s in the mid-afternoon, an hour before he had to pick up Abby from school. It wasn’t on the way, but he convinced himself it was, anyway. He waited by the back door of the restaurant like a creep, kicking around stones with his hands shoved in his pockets to hide how he was tugging at the frayed edges of the fabric, which was an unfortunate nervous habit that led to his clothes lasting a lot less time than he wanted them to. He kept his head down, and tried not to look like he was there to commit a crime, because he wasn’t, but people loved to assume otherwise.
When the door finally opened and Ness stepped out, his eyes instantly fell on Mike and widened with surprise. “I… thought you were going to call,” he said, letting the door slam shut heavily. He hesitated for a long moment, then added, “Mike, you look terrible.”
“I know,” Mike croaked, feeling strangled. Ness looked great—he always looked great, he was always perfect, and Mike was a damned mess. “I’m on my way to pick up Abby, and I thought… we could talk.”
“Sure,” Ness replied, and he zipped up his jacket. “Let’s take a walk?”
Mike deferred to Ness’ suggestion, and they wandered into the patch of trees behind the diner. Once they were significantly out of earshot, Mike stopped, letting the autumn leaves crunch beneath his feet, and looked up. It was oaks that surrounded them—oaks, not pines, and he drew in a deep breath of the crisp air through his nose.
“Mike—” Ness started, from slightly up ahead.
“Steve Raglan murdered my brother,” Mike said bluntly, not taking his eyes off the bare branches and the grey sky. It was a different forest, in a different state, and yet it was here, here, that he’d met the man who’d ruined his life. In a career counselling office. “They finally… caught him three weeks ago.” It was technically true, as long as Ness didn’t ask him to specify who ‘they’ were, and just assumed he meant the police. “That’s why he’s been missing.”
“God,” managed Ness, after a moment, and Mike looked down as he heard the leaves crunch under his shoes. He was closer, but still hanging back, awkwardly. “That’s… horrible, I didn’t… I didn’t know. I’m—”
"Don’t say that you’re sorry," Mike snapped, his voice almost a growl, and he jabbed a finger pointedly in Ness’ direction, making the other man visibly flinch. “You had nothing to do with this. You didn’t know about Raglan, and you didn’t kill my brother, so don’t you dare say that you’re sorry, because I don’t—I don’t need that, okay?”
“Okay,” Ness replied, sounding almost… muted, as if someone had placed a dampener over his emotions. He stepped closer. "What do you need, Mike? Because… if there’s anything…"
Mike reached out and firmly grabbed the front of Ness’ jacket with both hands, before his brain could even catch up to what his arms were doing. “I need,” he started, breathing heavily, the cold air scorching his lungs, “you,” he exhaled, firmly, hurrying onto the next word before it could sound too wrong, “to help me forget.”
Something like fear and pity swirled together in Ness’ gaze, as Mike held him forcefully, and they stood alone in the middle of the trees. “How?” Ness breathed, and Mike swore he watched the other man’s pupils slowly widen. “I would do anything, Mike, but I don’t know how to—”
Anything. Mike wondered if he actually meant it. He dug his fingers in deeper, fingernails scraping against the smooth material, and yanked Ness towards him. They collided with force, but Mike was strong, and he held on as if Ness were the only thing keeping him anchored to the world. Ness made a startled sound against Mike’s mouth, before it turned into a groan as Mike raked his teeth over Ness’ bottom lip. It was only a moment before Ness melted against him, letting his lips part, and Mike hungrily, aggressively, began to kiss him properly, all tongue and teeth and saliva, and it was disgusting and vicious and scorching.
They moved back, step by step, Mike pushing and Ness letting him, and when Ness’ back finally bumped against the solid wood of a tree, Mike heard him whimper, clear as day, and Mike couldn’t place whether it was from pleasure or pain. The kiss broke, for a moment, and as Ness’ head fell back against the oak, his eyes were wide and hazy and staring at Mike as if he were an angel and a devil all in one. “Mike.” Ness’ voice was nearly inaudible, his name whispered like a secret. “Mike…”
Mike’s teeth found the flesh of Ness’ neck, and Ness let out a small, strangled noise. “Tell me to stop,” begged Mike, after he raked his tongue over the sore spot and before he bit down again. “Please, tell me to stop, tell me you hate me, and you’ll never see me again—” He wanted this, he wanted this so badly it hurt, it burned, because Ness was the sun and Mike was an ant that some schoolkid was frying on the playground with a magnifying glass. And he wanted to run away, but he couldn’t, not unless Ness pushed him away, not unless Ness wanted him to go.
“No,” Ness wheezed, because he had to be selfish, didn’t he, just this once? He couldn’t always be the generous, self-sacrificing one. “Mike— please, God, please, anything but that.” Ness’ fingers found their way into Mike’s hair, curling into the dark locks and tugging, sending bolts of electricity through Mike’s skull, but not enough to hurt. “I’ll help you. Let me help you. Let me—” Mike dragged his teeth over Ness’ jawline and Ness’ head twitched and his leg reflexively kicked out, his weight falling more against the tree and into Mike’s arms. “F-fuck.”
“I didn’t think you knew how to swear,” Mike teased, though his voice was still low and not quite playful. He dragged his hands down Ness’ chest, pressing into the planes of his body through his jacket, and Ness squirmed. Then, Mike caught Ness’ lips again, and Ness full-on moaned into his mouth as Mike pinned him entirely against the tree, hooking a hand around the back of Ness’ leg and using his torso to keep him boxed in. “I want to—to take you home,” Mike admitted, quietly, against Ness’ skin. “I want… more, I want more than this.”
“You can’t,” Ness choked out, eyes flickering wildly from Mike’s face to the surrounding trees. “Abby—you can’t—we can’t, Mike.”
Abby. At the mention of his sister, Mike shoved himself away from Ness with the one hand he had on the tree, and as he stumbled away, lips tingling with excess heat and static, his foot caught on a hidden branch and he fell among the leaves. The dull, inconsequential pain was enough to jolt him fully awake—what was he doing? “I have to go,” he insisted, scrambling to his feet and keeping his eyes averted. “I have to—Abby, I have to pick her up, I’ll see you—I’ll call you, I’m never—I won’t stop by again.”
“No, no, wait—” Mike could hear Ness’ footsteps coming after him, but he didn’t look back as he charged out of the grove, hands clawing at the loose fabric in his pockets with a fervour. "Mike— Mike!"
Mike didn’t look back. He couldn’t. He was being pulled away, into the gravity of another star, and there was no returning. It was for his own good; he’d burn if he flew any closer to the sun. Ness was too much of a good thing, and Mike couldn’t allow himself to have that.
Ness was still standing at the edge of the trees, silent and staring, as Mike slid into the driver’s seat of his car. He pretended not to, but he watched Ness in the rearview mirror, unable to make out the details of his face but able to imagine the shock or the betrayal portrayed there.
Mike drove away, and felt guilty the entire time.