Isolation

I'm really worried

"Hi, Mike." Peter smiled, setting his guitar down as he watched him descend the staircase. A grunted "hey" was all he got in response.

"Where are the others?" Mike asked after a minute, looking around to notice they were alone.

"Micky's asleep in my bed now. He didn't want to disturb you. And Davy's out with Molly."

He nodded, rubbing his eyes. Why did he feel so tired all of a sudden?

"What time is it?" He questioned, feeling a little disoriented. It was pitch dark outside, but all the lights inside were still on.

"Almost one in the morning," Peter said, reading the time.

"Wait, really?"

Peter nodded and pointed at the clock. Sure enough, it was five minutes before one.

"What're you doing up?"

He shrugged and smiled slightly.

"I didn't want you to be lonely when you woke up."

Mike smiled a little at that and sat down beside him.

"I appreciate that, but you don't have to stay up for me, y'know."

"I know," he nodded. "But I'm not tired yet, and I like your company."

"Thanks."

There was an awkward moment of silence where neither really knew what to say.

"Are you hungry?" Peter asked meekly. "Millie came over earlier and brought a chicken casserole. It was really good."

"I thought you didn't eat meat." Mike frowned.

"I don't." Peter smiled again. "I picked out the chicken pieces and gave them to Micky."

"Gotcha." He nodded but didn't respond to the question.

"Well?"

"Well, what?" Mike looked over, genuinely confused.

Peter sighed sadly.

"Sorry, um, I asked if you wanted dinner."

"Oh, no thanks."

Peter nodded and looked down at his hands.

"Can I give you a hug?" He asked quietly.

"What?" Mike turned to face him. "Are you asking if you can give me a hug?"

It wasn't an accusation, but it still caused Peter to recoil slightly, thinking that he had just asked a "dumb" question.

"Well, it's just that..." He looked down, thinking of the right way to phrase it. "Whenever any of us try to give you a hug, you always freak out. I asked so you'd know and won't freak out when I do."

"Oh, Peter. Come 'ere." He opened his arms and Peter clung onto him, crying into his shoulder.

"I've been so scared, Mike. Especially in the last two weeks," he sniffled. "I don't know what I'm doing or how to do it right. I'm worried I'm going to mess it all up because I always do-"

"Peter," Mike said calmly, rubbing his hand on Peter's back. "Nobody knows what they're doing. Most of the time, even I don't. But that's just part of livin', y'know? If we had all the answers all the time, life wouldn't be an adventure."

He nodded, though that wasn't what he was worried about.

"I'm really worried about you. I don't know how I'm supposed to help."

"Me?" Mike pulled away and looked at him, concern clear on his face. "Why are you worryin' about me?"

Oops. Peter messed up by saying that.

"Just forget about it, okay?" He pleaded. "It's nothing, really."

"It's not nothing if you're upset." He frowned.

"Really, it's fine-"

"Peter, did I do something wrong?"

"No, no, no, no, no!" He was panicking now, unsure of what to do. "It's fine, it's not your fault. Mike, please don't worry about it."

"About what?"

Peter let out a nervous squeak, tears filling in his eyes. What was he supposed to do? Mike softened and scooted a little bit closer. Despite Peter telling him not to worry, he couldn't help but do so, especially seeing his friend's panicked state.

"Peter," he started, "what's going on?"