Help Me

What?

Mikey

Up till now, Mikey had never really thought about the concept of belonging. Or how it felt to belong so much in one place.

But that's how he felt now.

Completely like he belonged. Just laying there, wrapped up in Rye's arms as if nothing had changed.

But he remembered last night.

How he had feigned exhaustion so that he could leave the room. Mikey just couldn't bring himself to see his mother give him those looks.
Yes, he did understand what Rye had told him, about how she was scared for him, not of him. And yes, he knew there was a difference between the two.
But he struggled to distinguish between things now, and that was one of the reasons why he wanted to get out. Simply because he couldn't tell what was what anymore.
And the darkness had helped him admit that all to Rye. Because in the darkness he felt smaller, and it felt like he was out in the park late at night again, the whole world at his fingers.

Until it wasn't.

But in Rye's arms, Mikey felt like he belonged completely.

That was a thought that he probably shouldn't be having around his best friend, around his bandmate. His childhood friend, although not really. But it was like they were two pieces of the puzzle, each of their limbs slotting together perfectly.

He didn't know what it was about this morning though, seeing as himself and Rye had woken up like this many a time before. But there was something about today that caused him to slightly apprehensive as he had awoken. A knot deep inside his stomach that refused to unravel.

A hand ran through his hair, and when Mikey lifted his head from Ryes neck he saw Rye staring down at him.

"How long have you been awake?" Mikey yawned, smiling.

"Not long... About ten minutes?" He frowned, but he didn't seem at all bothered. In fact, he looked exhausted. But didn't they all?

Should he question it? Shouldn't he?

"Were you not going to get up?" Mikey ended up asking.
A question was still better than nothing, right?

"Well, I was pretty comfortable. And plus, I didn't want to wake you."

Classic Rye. He always managed to make it about everybody else, and not himself. It was a defining trait to his friend, one that Mikey had always admired. Alongside his unwavering loyalty and dedication to those he trusted. Although Mikey had those last two traits, he still did struggle to trust people.

"Thanks Rye." Mikey mumbled, slumping back down into Rye's arms. He fully intended on going back to sleep, but it seemed that Rye had other ideas.

The second that Rye's fingers tickled his sides Mikey let out a noise of protest, now fully awake. He tried to wriggle out of Rye's arms, but he held him fast, not allowing him to move.

"No... Stop Rye!" He managed to gasp out through his laughter. He was positive that at some point he had let out a shout. And then Rye let him go, scampering off the bed and beginning to run away, his laughter seeming to echo around the room.
With a new-found determination Mikey ran after him, but the second he leapt to his feet he jolted his knee badly, the limb now stiff, and he grunted, all the laughter from before having completely faded. A bolt of pain shot upwards, he sat back down with a groan, hanging his head.

Why couldn't he just have a bit of fun? Why did he have to ruin everything?

And then Rye ran back into the room, eyes wide, as he must've realised what had happened.
Mikey didn't look up, instead occupying himself with his knee-brace. He just had to go and ruin every. Little. Thing.
Rye was only trying to make him feel better. And he had ruined that completely.