Help Me

The Aftershock

Rye

Rye was silently relieved that Blair was out of the flat tonight, and wouldn't be returning until the early hours of the morning.

Because he wouldn't have known what to say to him... None of them would.

There was silence as the four of them walked into the flat, Rye carrying a passed-out Mikey in his arms. He headed straight over to Mikey's bed, tucking him into the covers (after he'd slipped his shoes off gently) like that of a mother tucking in her child, stroking his hair and kissing his cheek, letting his lips linger on Mikey's skin. Mikey had finally let go of his jacket, and Rye shrugged it off frantically, the silence that engulfed the four of them becoming overbearing and stifling.

He kicked his shoes off, taking a seat on the floor beside Mikey's bed. There was no way in hell he was leaving him alone ever again. Rye's hand found itself winding its way into Mikey's hair again, and he smiled softly when Mikey mumbled under his breath, turning to face him unknowingly.

Mikey should never have had to go through this. He didn't deserve it... Not in the slightest. And yet he was still fighting everything the world threw at him alone.

Because Rye hadn't noticed. Rye had left him behind. Rye had let this happen, and he couldn't feel guiltier. It clenched around his heart, squeezing and squeezing until Rye was oddly breathless, trembling.

"Rye?" He turned away from Mikey slowly, his eyes laying on Brooklyn's distraught face as he sat on the couch. Rye wiped his eyes with one hand, the other still playing with Mikey's hair. He hadn't realised that he'd started crying. He took a deep breath, hating it when he couldn't stop. He didn't have any right to cry right now... That right belonged to Mikey, and rightly so. Mikey's life had changed just like that, and if anyone were to be entitled to cry, it was Mikey. Not Rye.

"Yeah?" Rye rested his head on the bed, just below Mikey's head, coldness filling him up entirely. He shivered, wiggling his toes, clenching and unclenching his fist.
What have we done?" His voice shook as he spoke, his eyes never leaving Mikeys sleeping figure.
"No What have I done? I promised him I wouldnt leave him And now look what's happened."

Rye closed his eyes, trying to ignore the despair that swarmed around his body. It clung to him like fog, sticky and damp, sending a chill deep into his bones. After all, if he hadn't left Mikey alone he might've been fine. But would he really have been? What if this whole scenario hadn't happened? Would they still be clueless as to how Mikey was really coping? Could it have possibly got even worse? Rye shook his head, trying to dislodge those thoughts and questions from his head. Was this how Mikey felt every time that man spoke to him? Was this how Mikey felt when he couldn't think straight, when his thoughts overwhelmed him?

"Don't blame yourself for this Rye. Please. It was all of us." Brooklyn pleaded to him quietly, both of them holding their breath when Mikey twitched in his sleep. Rye slowly dragged his fingers through his friends hair, trying to lull him back in to his rest. But how long would that last?

"I feel like I should Brooklyn... Because I broke my promise." He opened his eyes then, his eyes meeting Brooks in a blurry vision.

"He latched on to you Rye... I think that's why you feel that way... But none of us realised either. Please stop carrying this all by yourself. Its not healthy."
Rye didn't remember a time when Brooklyn had pleaded with this level of desperation. His whole face seemed to be barely holding itself up, his lips wobbling, pale and Clueless.

Rye didn't respond. Instead he looked away with a sniff, turning his gaze back to Mikey. Fast asleep. Evenly breathing. Peaceful expression on his face. Hair obscuring part of his face, the scar peaking out from underneath. Purple shadows beneath his eyes. A slight tremor to his body, even in sleep. Tense.