Help Me

To The Flat

Mikey

Rye ignored Mikey for the next three hours.
Mikey hated himself for how he had treated Rye.

By the time the rest of them had made it, without dying, to the minivan Rye was already passed out (or he seemed to be) in the front passenger seat. Blair looked relieved as Brooklyn wheeled Mikey over to the minivan.
"So he didn't kill you then?" Blair joked to try to lighten the mood.
Mikey laughed at Brooks hurt face.
"We had some close calls with that nurse though, didn't we Brook?" Jack chucked, and Andy smiled, walking around them to open the door.
"Oi, alright, maybe I nearly did knock her over..." Brooklyn tried to defend himself, before realising that he'd just made his case even worse. He sighed.

Blair barked out a laugh, before properly taking in Mikey. "You alright Mikey?"
Mikey swallowed uncomfortably. He hated being the centre of attention.
"For now, I guess." He replied, and Blair looked at him for a few seconds before smiling.
"Good to have you back with us." He leaned out the window to pat Mikey on the shoulder.
Not expecting the touch, Mikey flinched uncontrollably, his face turning ashen.
Blair played it off well though, by pretending that it didn't happen.

He knew that the boys had witnessed this whole exchange. He hated himself even more. Why did he have to always ruin everything?

***

The journey home was uneventful. The boys and Blair had a chat about something, but Mikey didn't really care enough to pay attention. He had his eyes closed, head rested on the window, just as Rye's had been.
He didn't even feel the minivan stop.

"Wakey wakey!" Blair called loudly, "Home awaits!" He raised his hand as  Mikey's eyes snapped open, heart beating quickly at the abrupt noise.
Why did it affect him so much? Why was he startled by every single thing?
At that moment, Mikey hated the man that had done this to him. His hands curled into eachother, and he felt himself start to shake.

He shook his head. Stop it... Get a hold of yourself... You need to be fine. You can prove to Rye that you're fine... He doesn't need to worry anymore... No one needs to worry anymore...

"Mikey?" Brook softly called. Internally he had a heart attack, but externally he calmly turned his head to face Brook. The minivan was empty. How long had he been stuck in his own thoughts?
"Yeah... I'm coming." Mikey said with a smile, but it was clear that Brooklyn didn't look convinced. Gripping the crutches tightly, Mikey slid himself slowly out, stumbling when he made to take a step.
"Woah... Slow down a bit. You need to get used to them mate." Brooklyn steadied him, and he nodded. His hands felt strangely clammy.

After that Mikey practised with the crutches for a few minutes, until he'd got the hang of them. Before, crutches had looked so easy. But now that he needed them...
Let's just say it wasn't as fun as he had previously thought.
"Okay, I think I'm good now." Mikey said to Brook, who'd stayed out with him. Rye had been the first one to go inside, and then the other boys and Blair had slowly trickled in.

"You sure?" Brooklyn asked as he held the door open. He nodded as he brushed passed him, but sighed when he remembered that there were flights of stairs to climb.
"Can you hold one of my crutches Brook?" Mikey asked, averting his gaze to the floor, squeezing his eyes shut. He hated asking people to do things.
"Yeah of course." He replied upbeat, which Mikey knew instantly to be a lie. He was just trying to reassure him. Or maybe even himself.

After handing Brooklyn the spare crutch Mikey gripped the handrail with his other hand. Slowly, he made it up the stairs, but had to stop after every few. His knee flared up halfway, and his waist decided to burn, but he ignored it. His knuckles may have gripped the handrail and his crutch tighter than normal, but he didn't notice.
Brooklyn waited as he stopped though, walking beside him but behind him in case he slipped or fell, and didn't stop talking. As much as Mikey appreciated the thought, he hated that Brook had to do it anyway. He was wasting his time.