the real people| TWD

twenty-nine

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE,
pretty.

Micheal made his way down the hallway, stopping in front of the guest bedroom door; he raised his fist and knocked, not waiting for a response before creaking it open. Richard's head snapped around to look at him, clearly surprised by his visit. Micheal stared at him through the crack in the door, "I was just gonna say goodnight".

Richard stared at him before nodding, "well, goodnight".

Micheal nodded, lingering in the doorway, trying to decide whether or not he should continue the conversation. He wanted to tell Richard about Sophia, about the neighborhood... about Otis. Whenever Micheal was alone with anyone, his secrets felt like they were eating away at him; as if they were trying to claw their way out.

"What's up, Mikey?".

His eyes snapped up to meet Richard's. He never really calls him that, usually it was Sophia or Kenny. To Richard, it was always Micheal, never anything else. Sometimes Micheal felt like Richard hated him, which he probably did, considering at times Micheal could hate him too. Richard's hate felt consistent though, there has never been a time where Micheal doubted it— but Richard calling him 'Mikey', he couldn't help but smile.

"Are... are you feeling better?".

Richard looked down at his swollen leg, the bruising wasn't as bad as yesterday; but the pain hurt just as much. He nodded, tearing his eyes away to look at his little brother. "Yeah, should be up and walkin' soon".

Micheal's smile flattened, stepping in and cracking the door behind him. He moved to stand at the foot of the bed, inspecting the makeshift cast Hershel had put together. He knew Richard was lying, he just didn't want to worry them. Micheal's broken a lot of bones, he knew how much pain Richard was in, and he knew it wasn't going away anytime soon. Micheal also knew that it was going to be a long time before Richard was able to walk again. "Was it bad?".

Richard chuckled, a cocky smirk on his face, "we've been through worst".

Micheal nodded, wincing a little at the memories of their father. All the broken bones, all the lashings, concussions— it was nothing compared to what Edward Pelletier put them through. There were times they'd still continue getting beat, even after breaking a bone.

"How was the neighborhood? You find anythin'?". Micheal clenched his jaw, lifting his head to look at his older brother. Once they made eye contact, Richard knew something was up; there was a guilty look in his siblings eyes that they'd get whenever hiding something from him. Richard's gotten so good at noticing that he could tell instantly when they weren't telling him something. "What is it?".

Micheal immediately looked away, racking his brain with an excuse, a story— anything to ease Richard's mind and stop him from prying. Micheal knew for a fact, if Richard tried, he'd be able to get it out of him.

"I-... I didn't—".

"Don't you lie to me", Richard scolded before he even got the chance. "Look at me, Micheal". Micheal reluctantly looked back at his older brother, his head tilted down to try and hide the guilty expression he knew was written all over his face. He couldn't look at Richard and lie, he'd be able to tell. "What is it?".

He could tell by his voice that Richard was starting to worry.

An idea came to mind and Micheal quickly looked down, picking at his knuckles anxiously. "Promise you won't be mad?".