Chapter Text
The bed was cold when Mike woke up. The ocean of blankets ruffled in odd shapes and blurred lines between the sheets. Cotton was pressed against his face, brushing his cheek. It still smelled like this addictive mixture of cigarette smoke and raw soap. He pressed his nose deeper into it, trying to catch some of the leftover heat inside - without any success.
He turned, rolled over - to his back, then stomach - left and right and left again. It wasn’t really helping, something was missing.
So Micheal slowly peeled his eyes open in defeat. They were crusted shut, like he had spun himself into a tight cocoon. When the room came into vision his brain clicked. Like a light switch was turned inside his head. He lifted the mess of black curls from the pillow, as he did, he noticed how he had slept sideways
-why would he-
oh.
The boy sat up, rubbing the giddy crust of salt from his face.
The memory from last night wasn’t fully back and Micheal wasn’t sure if he actually wanted it to. The letter had been enough, let alone the rosary-
Fuck-
The rosary.
Clammy hands were searching his pockets, then ruffled the sheets…
ragged motions merged into haste and panic. Mike sprung to his knees, threw pillows and the wide blankets of cotton.
„Shit- shit- shit!.“
He cursed over and over, searching the white mess.
- how could he be so stupid, loosing such an important-
A cling of metal echoed through the silence of the room.
Micheal lets go of the sheets and creeps over to the edge of the bed. Something about it felt unsettling and as he gazed down in expectation to find the small chain of crimson peals - he only met cold, dead tiles of wooden floor. It didn’t make any sense, he clearly heard it fall. With the question still on his tongue, he moved his stretched out legs to sit properly. A stinging pain spread through his palms as he took hold of the wooden bedframe- right the cuts form last night were still fresh. He took them to his lap, allowing his eyes to take in the sight of the clumsily wrapped flesh. The stripes of William’s shirt were overshadowed by soft brown patches of dried blood - a saint smile crept over his dry lips.
„Micheal?“
A sharp voice pierced the moment.
The Wheeler boy looked up to meet a weirdly familiar face-
loving eyes, surrounded by blue eyeshadow, smile lines around thin lips and a mess of blond, curled hair that resembled the texture of his own.
„Mom?“
Micheal shot from the mattress like it was on fire - it was Karen who stood in front of him - all flesh and blood from what he could tell.
„What- how?- Why-„
The stammered nonsense that poured from him in ragged whispers got lost with a simple shush. The woman peeled herself from the weeping boy.
„Mike- did you loose something?“
She asked, wrapping her cold hands around his neck. He searched for her face, gazing up from where he had buried his face in her torso.
„Yea- you’re rosary, I’m so sorry- I’ll find it, I swear.“
Mike pleaded the words up at her but they only came down shattering to his face.
„Oh don’t bother, it’s natural to loose yourself in your mistakes.
Or was it a mistake Micheal?“
Lanky arms tried to slip from her. The voice is shrill in his ears and her hands, her cold- cold hands wouldn’t let go of his neck.
„Mom- what do you mean?“
A sharp tug shots through his scalp as tight fists filled with hair yank his head back. Mike ripped his eyes open, the face above him stayed numb and empty. Dark blow pupils froze him into place. Paralysed, he didn’t move a muscle in his body - like he was trapped in one of his nightmares.
„Oh really? You don’t know?
I think you do Micheal.
You know what you did - what you planned to do.
Here in this very room.“
„No- no I did nothing w-„
Ocean blue crashed the stone of him, tearing Micheal down with raging waves of storm. His justification was ripped from his hands as he just managed to built it halfway. The woman above him hissed words like a curse form between her lips.
„Oh, you did nothing wrong?“
She paused and when he answered with nothing but a pleaded shake of his teared curls, she continued.
„Leviticus 18:22.“
Her word is a whisper, but feels like a storm against Mike. He sits there, feeling the mattress swallow him. The situation felt so familiar, like a piece of a movie he had seen before but forgot over time. Maybe it reminded him of church, pressed in the tight confessional or suspended to private bible studies. And like he had done so many times, he answered with averted eyes and a wobbly, teary voice.
„You- You shall not- You shall not lie with- with-“
Terror ran thick in Micheal’s veins as he tried so hard to form the phrase. His hands shook as he tugged helplessly at his mothers sleeves again for her to let him go. She pressed down harder into his skull and presumed.
„With. Who?“
Micheal’s tears spilled in endless streams and his throat bobbed with how heavy he swallowed.
„A male- with a male as with a w-woman, it is an ab- ab- abomination.“
With a crooked expression, the woman dug her claw deeper into his throat, pressing the muscle tight for no air to escape. The boy chokes, blood rushed into his face with puckering pain and the sweat that poured from his forehead made its way down his cheeks. With that, he starts screaming- shouting for mercy.
Within a second, his lungs were full again- full with sweet, cold and bitter air. The room was blurry, the walls still the same greyish blue, the dark brown of the closet still worn down.
His breaths rung in the space - heavy and ragged. With shaking motions, Micheal looked around- then downwards. To his feet, the small chain of red pearls lays untouched. Numb hands lifted from where they had gripped his pants tightly and reached down to the floor carefully. The metal of the rosary was cold and the crucifix felt heavier than before. Mike presses it tightly into his fists, watching how the poor bandage wets with his tapping tears.
Fuck.
He thought.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
That wasn’t Karen, that wasn’t his mother- but still all of it was so real- so true. He was under the curse, it was as clear as day and somewhere deep in his heart Micheal knew he deserved it- one way or another.
He sat like this, staring- breathing- crying. Not letting his limbs move even an inch from the warm bedding. The glass of water on Will‘s nightstand was gleaming in the milky light and was casting a shadow of illumination on the scuffed wood it sat on.
It was untouched- he hadn’t drank from it, no fingerprint, no left bruise from his lip on the shining material. Mike watched it carefully and found it somewhat comforting…
he liked this habit of him… he always kept water by his bed and never drank it. During Will‘s first possession, he had always watched it stay full for nights and days- even if it was hard to see from where he was sat on the floor. A smile crept it’s way over his cut lips and the water moved inside the walls of crystal.
There was a knock at the door and a voice calling out the request to enter.
„Come in-„
Micheal replied, wiping the tears off with scratchy sleeves and wrapping the rosary around his clammy wrist.
Lucas peeked through the door, his eye still bruised and swollen from the attack. His left sock had a hole in it and his toe peeked through.
„Hey- so we’re having breakfast downstairs. And you know, we need you to talk through the next steps.“
With a smile, he leaned himself against the doorframe. He seemed to be fine, well as fine as one could be right now and Micheal would lie if he would say he wasn’t jealous.
„Yea- yea I’m coming.“
So ether way he smiled, peeling himself from the bed and making his way over to the other boy. Who had already turned to the side and walked down the hallway to help the girl next door downstairs. When Michael turned around the corner, Lucas was already out of sight. Only his voice echoed through the walls.
„Max, you shouldn’t be walking- the doctor said you still need to rest-„
„I’m not a child- you don’t have to carry me around all day.“
There was a yelp, a giggle and then a bush of red hair falling over a tall shoulder. Micheal followed the scene with seeming ease.
The sight of them was equally curing and destructive - holding up a mirror of what he could never have.
This was proof that the vision was somewhat right,
Mike though.
And as he watched the two move down the staircase, his heart was clear, beating from his chest,
like a dying bird in the early summer sun.