That's What You Get

Chapter Three: Shattered

Mikey sat at the edge of the bed he used to share with Pete, staring blankly at the wall. The apartment was quiet, but not in a peaceful way. It was the kind of silence that weighed heavy, like the air knew what was coming.

Pete was out again. Another night at the strip club. It had become routine: he'd get drunk, stumble home late, and take everything out on Mikey: rage, fists, guilt, sex. And somehow, Mikey stayed. Part of him still believed it wasn't really Pete. It was the alcohol. The stress. The job. Anything but the man he'd fallen in love with.

A sudden slam jolted him upright. The front door. A picture on the wall rattled, then fell to the floor. Mikey turned his head slowly, already knowing which one it was. The photo of him and Pete, taken during their first trip together. They were laughing in the picture, arms around each other. Back then, it had all felt real.

He didn't have time to dwell. The bedroom door burst open, crashing against the wall. Another picture fell. This one was a framed photo of them kissing at a party. Mikey had laughed when it was taken. Pete had smiled too, back when his smile still looked like love.

Pete stood in the doorway, eyes sharp. Not glazed. Not slurring.

He was sober.

That made it worse.

Without a word, he crossed the room and grabbed Mikey by the hair, yanking him down to the floor with so much force Mikey felt something tear at his scalp. His face hit the hardwood with a thud that echoed through his skull. Warmth spread across his mouth. His lip had split. His ribs throbbed with each breath.

"Why are you still here?" Pete snarled. "I told you to fucking leave."

Mikey's vision blurred with tears. He lifted his head, tasting blood. "B-but... Pete... I love you."

Pete's grip tightened as he hauled him upright by the hair again.

"I don't love you."

Then he threw Mikey against the wall.

The impact knocked the wind out of him. He slumped to the floor, dazed. His shoulder screamed in pain.

Mikey didn't argue. Didn't beg. He pushed himself up slowly, one arm cradling his ribs.

"I understand," he whispered.

He opened the bedroom door and stepped out into the hallway. He paused at the front door when he heard another picture frame crash behind him. He turned to look.

It wasn't another photo of Pete.

It was the one of him and Gerard, his older brother. A rare moment of joy, now shattered on the floor.

That was it. Something broke inside him.

He left the door wide open as he ran, out of the apartment, out of that life. His legs carried him through streets he hadn't walked in years, to the only address he could still remember by heart.

He knocked hard, barely able to stand. When the door opened, it wasn't Dani.

"Can I... is Dani here?" Mikey asked, voice hoarse.

The guy behind the door nodded, confused. "Uh, yeah. One sec."

The door shut again. A moment later, it opened, and there she was.

Dani froze. "Mikey?"

She stepped out immediately and pulled him inside. He looked like hell, bloodied lip, bruised face, eyes full of something deeper than pain.

"Oh my God, Mikey. What if he finds out you're here?"

"He made me leave," Mikey said, voice cracking. "H-he didn't even drink tonight. He was sober."

Dani's face darkened. "Tell me what happened."

Mikey blinked hard. "He grabbed my hair. Slammed me down. I think my ribs are cracked. My shoulder's messed up. He threw me against the wall. And... the photo. The one of me and Gerard. He broke it."

Dani wrapped her arms around him tightly, her voice fierce but trembling. "He's not getting away with this."

Within the hour, she drove him to the precinct, calling a friend, a lawyer, on the way.

At the station, she sat Mikey down at a desk while she spoke with her captain.

Another officer approached him quietly.

"Hey. You must be Mikey." She pulled out the chair beside him and sat carefully. "I'm Skye. Dani told me a bit about what happened."

He gave a small nod, eyes fixed on his fingers twisting in his lap.

"If you're okay with it, I'd like to take some photos of your injuries," Skye said gently. "And if you feel ready, we can talk about what's happened, whatever you're comfortable sharing."

Mikey nodded again. Wordlessly, he followed her into the back room.

She moved slowly, showing him the camera first. Everything she did was careful, patient. She took photos of the bruises, the bite marks, the bald patches where Pete had ripped his hair out. She documented everything.

When she was done, Mikey finally spoke.

"He wasn't always like this."

Skye waited.

"The first two years, he was... good. Kind. Then, after our anniversary, it changed. He started drinking more. And when he was angry, it was always my fault."

He paused, eyes burning.

"I thought if I stayed, it meant I was strong. That I could fix him. That maybe I deserved it."

"You didn't," Skye said gently. "You don't. And you never did."

Mikey looked at her, eyes filled with years of silence finally breaking.

"I think I should press charges."

She nodded. "We'll help you every step of the way."