#anybody wanna finish the job and put me out of my misery? please?

[burningcomputerpersona]

juat woke up with a feeling of overwhelming rage. not sure what this is about but i need to punch the walls and stab myself with shattered glass and kill myself

[shewhowantsmouseears]

The Little Peach - Chapter 9

Notes: As always, big thanks to my amazing editor, Drucilla!

Not much to say here, save for pepping some foreshadowing, some more obvious than others. We're really deep in "making thus up as I go along" territory, folks. Cross your fingers and wish me luck.

Summary: Mickey takes on the same path as his father once did, but finds new shadows waiting for him.

“Guards?” Everyone repeated – save for Panchito, who was suffering from another one of Maurice's wake-up specials – after Mickey had finished his request, each person giving the word their own level of shock. As such -

“Guards?” Princess Minnie's fan was being used to hide her eager smile, recalling that Sir Sakura and his own love interest had met by him being her bodyguard.

“Guards?” Clarabelle could guess what Minnie was thinking in seconds and panicked, trying to think of how to put a stop to her illicit daydreaming.

“Guards?” Pete was incredulous – now he had even more obstacles in his way!

“Guards?” Goofy tilted his head, quietly curious as to why Mickey wanted to do it all of a sudden.

“Guards?” Jose was thoroughly amused, and saw endless potential for hilarity and entertainment out this arrangement.

“Guards?” Marsupilami could sense that for once, he and Maurice would have to do some actual work in their lives, and he couldn't say he really cared for it.

“Guards?” Panchito finally said, managing to stay awake so long as he didn't look at Jose for more than three seconds, and he'd already last track of what was going on.

Minnie snapped her fan shut, instantly coming to a decision. “Your desire to protect your people, and your princess, is very noble. I have given your request a great deal of thought-”

“It's been six seconds,” Clarabelle hissed.

“-and it is with great honor and privilege that I-”

“Deny your request!” Clarabelle cut in again, snatching the fan out of Minnie's hand. “Absolutely not, no, no, no! Princess, I ask for so little, but this is sheer common sense! Look at him! Sure, maybe his friends could be of use – except for that rooster that keeps fainting, no offense-”

“None taken!” Four seconds, THUD.

“- But how could someone that small protect anybody?”

Hearing that stung, even if it was the truth, but Mickey didn't want to give up again. He had just barely pulled himself out of misery and self-loathing by the memory of his honored father, and if he sunk back down he wasn't sure he could climb out of it ever again. So if his father “saved” him once, perhaps he could do it again. “I wish to follow in my father's footsteps! The truth is, Princess...my father once served your own! I am the son of Donald Duck and Daisy Duck!”

Jose suddenly straightened up, lifting up his helmet to get a better look at Mickey. “Donald Duck! Sir Donald, are you speaking the truth? The one and only noble and righteous Donald?”

Minnie slid a spare fan out of her sleeve, much to Clarabelle's frustration, and resumed her mysterious, stony aura by opening it front of her mouth again. “I take it you know of him, Sir Jose?”

“Know of him!” Jose slapped a hand to his chest, looking more serious than anyone in the room knew he was capable of being. “Why, before you were born, lovely Princess, I proudly served alongside him!  He and I took down many fierce Oni, and Sir Donald was the strongest, mightiest, and dare I say handsomest samurai that has ever served the royal family! There were Oni who ran from the palace doors at the mere mention of his name! To think we would be in the presence of his own son, we are more than honored, we are blessed by the gods!” Yet when he stopped his passionate speech and saw Mickey again, he had to admit there might been some extra hype. Mostly because as far as he knew about genetics, Duck + Duck did not = Mouse. “Um... not much of a family resemblance, is there?”

“I know I'm adopted.”

“Oh, good, because this would have been extremely awkward otherwise.” With that, he resumed all the passion and flare he had been displaying seconds ago. “Dear Princess! Though he may be small in stature, there is no way anyone who lived under the roof of Sir Donald is anything less than exemplary! Why, I bet Sir Donald taught him ways to fight that take ready advantage of his size! All that he has learned must have been passed down to the next generation!”

Only now did Mickey see a tiny flaw in his plan, and he cleared his throat, eyes shifting about as he spoke timidly. “Ah, well, about that-”

“If Sir Jose says it is true,” Minnie unknowingly interrupted, not hearing Mickey's attempt at a confession. “Then it must be so. I will hear no further argument.” Nor would she hear Clarabelle snapping the fan in her hands in sheer frustration. “Starting today, Mickey – Sir Mickey – and his allies will join the guardsmen, protecting the capital and the palace. Sir Goofy, get them proper armor and blades as soon as they can be acquired.”

Goofy bowed low, always happy to make new friends, and so he was quite pleased by all that had happened. “Yes, Princess.”

“Sir Jose, begin rearranging the shifts. I want at least two men on every patrol, no one is to be alone when they're on the job.”

Jose also bowed deeply but his had extra flourish. “Yes, Princess.”

“And Sir Pete, you will train them in our ways, and show them everything they need to know – a top-to-bottom layout of the capital and of the palace.”

“Aw, why me?” Pete groaned, slouching in his reluctance. “I have to take all these chumps under my wing? A dog, a gorilla, some weird tail-monkey, a fainting rooster-”

“I'm up, I'm up!”

“And a little boy who I could crush in the palm of my hand? What did I ever do to you?”

Mickey thought Minnie's eyes were very pretty, and didn't know why his friends had insisted that the Princess was a cold-hearted force to be reckoned with – until this point. Minnie's eyes narrowed slowly, and the icy chill stabbing from her deep blues was enough to make Mickey feel like he had traveled to the arctic. He could even feel Pluto starting to shiver underneath him. “I am giving them to you because you are one of my most trusted guards, and if you wish to remain that way, you will take this order as an honor, not a punishment. After all the good faith you've earned with me, you wish to throw it away so easily?”

Pete didn't really answer, although he did grumble audibly, fingers clenching and unclenching as if he was fighting off a million and one impulses in the back of his head. The winter storm between felt as if it could last a thousand ages, were it not for Goofy coming over to slap Pluto on the back, since Mickey was too small for him to hit without injury. “Oh, Pete's a great choice to have! You guys will be A-O-K under his eye, I know it!” Goofy wasn't exactly fond of Pete, but he hated conflict much more. “Why, out of all of us, I'd say he's the very best!”

Pluto sat on his haunches so Mickey could try to look Goofy better in the eye. “How so? What makes him better than you or Jose or anyone else?”

“Why, we saw him take on five Oni at one time!” Goofy spread out his hand, counting on each finger. “The first day he came to the capital, Jose and I were guardin' the entrance, and then all of a sudden these Oni came straight out of nowhere! They were tearin' up the place and givin' us a real tough time!”

Pete was failing not to smile smugly, crossing his arms as his ego inflated. Jose caught on, and began to gesture out the fight with minimal movement. “What my companion says is true! He took down all five of them, and sent them running back home to their mamas! To this day, I still don't quite know how he did it, but it was done. He was hired right on the spot! Why, he's become so fearsome to the Oni since then, not one of them as ever shown up in the capitol!”

There was something off about this story, yet Mickey couldn't quite put his finger on it. He wasn't eager to find any lies anyway – Pete was his best shot at his real goal. “Then, Sir Pete, it is with esteem pleasure that we place ourselves in your care.” He topped it off with a bow that all his allies copied, even the continuously reluctant Marsupilami and the semi-conscious Panchito.

“Fine, fine, fine, I'll do it!” Pete marched over to Mickey, looking down at him as much as possible. “But don't think I'm gunna cut you any slack because of your size! You're going to obey all of my orders without question, you got that?”

“Yes, Sir! Without question!”

“That's what I like to hear! Now, my first order of business...” he reached over and plucked Mickey off of Pluto by the collar of his clothes, and dropped him onto the floor. “Twenty laps around the palace!”

Mickey fumbled on the floor, trying to regain his balance. “Twenty laps? … Which is not a question but repeating what you said, sir!”

“If you wanna be a guard, you gotta be in shape! Now get to it, all of you, unless you'd rather be target practice instead!”

A smarty-pants comment about how Mickey wasn't the right size for that either rose up in Mickey's throat, but he fought it off, and instead bolted for the door, not wanting to cause anymore fuss. He had secured the job, much faster and easier than he had actually anticipated, and he was in no hurry to lose it. Marsupilami began to whine about doing actual work, and Maurice dragged away Panchito who had failed at communicating anything towards Jose but squeaking gibberish. In a way, he kind of wished there had been more fuss about him becoming a guard, if only to decrease the guilt he was feeling deep within his chest.

Yes, of course he wanted to follow in his noble father's footsteps – but he'd only used his father's name to get into the door, as a footstool to the real goal. Somewhere within the palace was the Lucky Hammer, hidden away and only known by the Princess. If he couldn't convince her to grant her the size he needed, he'd have to find it himself. Maybe with his unusual height, he had an advantage over anyone else who had searched high and low in the palace. Yet no matter how far and fast he ran, he couldn't escape his disgrace – to try and honor his father by becoming regular-sized, he'd used him like a cheap trick.

Throughout it all, he tried to hold onto one singular hope – that when he was normal, he would be accepted, and no matter how bad he felt now, it would all be worth it in the end. In the end, what other choice did he have? It wasn't as if he'd ever be the Princess' husband.

~*~

“No, no, no, a million and infinity times no.”

After her long series of meetings had ended, Minnie was back in her room, rearranging her books with a song in her heart. Clarabelle had immediately followed her and stood in the doorway, making her open heard very loudly. Minnie merely continued to hum, back in her natural persona as she stacked books upon books upon books. “I don't know what you mean,” she replied in a sing-song manner, clapping her hands once when she found her desired volume.

“You cannot marry Mickey! I won't allow it! All your ancestors won't allow it!”

“Sir Mickey,” she corrected, flopping onto her bed so she could reread her favorite chapter. “And didn't you say you'd let me marry anyone?”

“How was I supposed to know men came in his size?!” Clarabelle futilely measured an imaginary Mickey in her hands before trying to come inside the tricky bedroom space. “Besides, you're missing the point entirely! I want you to have a husband who can support you in times of need, a man you can rely on, who can protect you-”

“I bet Sir Mickey can do all those things. Love knows no obstacles.”

“And can give you children.” Clarabelle finished sharply.

Minnie paused, glancing up from her book for half a second. “... Okay, we'll adopt. But love can overcome all those other obstacles.”

“You do not love him!” Clarabelle had to awkwardly angle herself around several stacks of books before she made it to the bed, as she felt she had to try and tip the book she was reading away from her eyes. “You don't even know him! You only think you do because he resembles some made-up character in a fantasy world!”

“It's destiny!” Minnie insisted, tugging her book right back and flipping it around – the illustrated page showing Sir Sakura kneeling before his retainer and pledging his eternal loyalty. “See? It happened just like in my book! It's meant to be! We'll grow closer day by day, he'll get jealous of me spending time with the other guards but not understand why, then we'll have a silly nonsense fight, only for him to return in the rain and declare his forbidden feelings for me! Then we'll live happily ever after! … Until the next volume, when I get kidnapped and he has to come and rescue me while fighting off urges from a vile temptress.”

When Clarabelle first became Minnie's handmaiden, she had sworn to protect the Princess from everything even at the cost of her own life, a sacred vow she held very deeply. Right now she was mildly considering breaking this vow to smack Minnie repeatedly with that book. Who would have guessed she'd have to protect Minnie from Minnie? She inhaled as hard as her body would allow, her hands pressed together as she tried to form some sort of argument that would make the Princess listen. “Okay... since common sense isn't doing me any favors today... let's try this. Let's say you like him, even if it's for a ridiculous and purely insane reason. Is there any reason Mickey would like you?”

Minnie stopped, jerking her head, her expression incredulous. “Are you saying I'm unlikable?”

“No! What I'm saying is... what does Mickey know about you, that would make him like you as a wife?”

“Well... he, uh....he, um...” She slowly began to place the open book down on her lap as she had to think about it. “I was...very nice to him when we first met!”

“Everyone is supposed to be very nice when you make an introduction. What does he know about you that makes you you, and not... basic human decency?”

Clarabelle had only intended for Minnie to slow down her romantic endeavors and take her future more seriously, but she'd unknowingly opened up a trap door that Minnie fell through in one fell swoop. What about her made her... unique? Worthy of love? She only ever had two goals in life – to be a good Princess for her people, and find a man like Sir Sakura. Outside of that, what else did she have? One could argue the first goal wasn't really hers either – wasn't every royal figure supposed to want to be good for their people? That just left her wanting to find someone to love her exactly as these black and white pages said love was supposed to be.

So who was Minnie, outside of the palace and away from these fantasy books? She had no idea. How could you love someone that didn't exist as a whole? At that moment, she couldn't even fathom loving herself. Clarabelle was taking the long stretch of silence as a good sign, and began to advise her about how if you wanted to win over any man, friendship was the first goal – she had no idea the Princess was going through an identity crisis and thus not listening to a single word being spoken.

Neither woman was paying attention to the book in Minnie's lap, where Sir Sakura was going into a rambling soliloquy about his devotion to the fair maiden he was guarding. It was very unlike how Mickey had asked for the job, merely getting right to the heart of the matter instead of taking up twenty pages.

Somewhere in the back of Minnie's mind, the tiny light of hope found it odd that despite such a vast difference, she preferred Mickey's way of asking.

~*~

With both mice now terribly uncertain about their futures, the wheels of fate were set in motion. Panchito, Maurice, Marsupilami were all equipped with the official palace armor and given their own blades from the finest blacksmith in the capitol, with Pluto getting his own super shiny collar. Mickey's size, to no one's real shock, presented a problem with getting his own armor and blade, but he put up a stiff upper lip and insisted his soft robes and sewing needle would suit him just fine. Pete reluctantly did as he was told, showing them the ins and outs of the palace, with Mickey ever vigilant for any sign of a hidden space that could hold the treasure he sought.

When the first day ended and they retreated to their newfound living quarters with the other soldiers, Mickey waited until he heard snores fill up the room before he slid out into the night. The palace was quite tall, certainly larger than the already enormous home he'd grown up in. It would have taken ages for a regular-sized person to search every nook and cranny – given his own height, it could have taken years and years. But as he quietly knocked on floorboards and climbed up windows, he didn't think about all the time he'd have to spend in the future.

Instead his mind kept going back to the past, about how he had gone about memorizing the layout of his home. He was sure he could walk through it blindfolded and never bump into anything. There had been nights he slipped out of his drawer of a bedroom just to walk around and get his blood pumping. His mother had meant well, but constantly being told not to do anything had only made him long for the exact opposite. Thinking back on those times, he was certain his father had “caught” him doing this a few times, as he spotted Donald's open eye as he left the room – yet Donald had never said a word about it to Daisy. Even if he just couldn't be bothered to do so, Mickey was grateful for the small grace of freedom.

He missed his parents very much on that first night, knowing he'd definitely upset his mother and caused his father all sorts of trouble. Thinking of their aches made his search all the more difficult, and he shook his head hard in a futile effort to clear it. No matter how much pain he had caused them, it would all be healed when he was normal. Moonlight dimly shone through the windows, slightly aiding his search – until it was blocked. Distracted, Mickey peered outside, although he couldn't see much in the shadows. He was on the third floor of the palace, which allowed him to make sense of two things.

First, there was a fire in the garden. Not a large, all-destroying monstrosity that had nearly killed Grandma's fields, but a contained campfire. The smoke from the fire was blocking the moon on and off because of the second thing he'd noticed – whoever was making the fire was covering it with something, then taking it off, doing it over and over in strange intervals. If it was an intruder, Mickey knew it was his duty to alert the others and have the invader kicked out – but if it was someone trying to break into the castle, they certainly were going about it in a very strange way! Maybe it was harmless. Weird, but harmless.

The figure down below eventually became satisfied with his work because they stopped and put out the campfire. After shuffling, possibly to get rid of evidence it was ever there, the figure approached the castle wall, and began to climb it with ease! Mickey stared, but then he remembered how he first met  Marsupilami and Maurice – Maurice had been climbing up the inn without breaking a sweat. Strange and stranger still – wasn't Maurice asleep with the others? Maybe he'd gone out to cook a light meal in the gardens and follow it up with some exercise. It was unusual, but Mickey decided that since all of his friends were unusual, one of them doing something unusual wasn't unusual! … Or something like that. He was getting one of his triple headaches again trying to sort it all out.

With the mystery solved, he hopped out of the windowsill and resumed his search. He knew he wouldn't be lucky enough to find the hammer on his first night, and after a few more hours of searching he dragged himself back to the shared room to catch some shut-eye. From here on out, it was only a matter of time and patience. He wouldn't leave the capitol until he found the Lucky Hammer, even if it took until he was old and gray. He rather hoped he'd find it before the Princess was married, he thought to himself as he laid down to sleep. Honestly, what had Panchito been thinking? She'd never marry such a small person.

But she might marry a person who was small and suddenly became regular-sized.

Mickey's eyes shot open, bewildered as to where that thought came from, and alas, he couldn't sleep a wink for the rest of the night.

~*~

As the days of intense training began for Mickey and his companions, Donald and Daisy came upon a long dirt road with an unforgiving sun in the sky – the same road where Mickey had come across the sword-wielding rooster. With no trees to offer them shade, it made the walk seem much longer. Were it not for his old injury, Donald would have insisted on carrying Daisy on his back, so she wouldn't have to strain herself under the heat. By this point in their journey, the euphoria about Mickey's heroics had worn off for Daisy, and she was back into panic mode. She knew airing her grievances would do no good, and settled for mumbling them while biting her fingernails. Donald silently offered a squeeze of her hand whenever her saw her do this, even if it didn't help.

Eventually, he could take it no more, and made an attempt. “He's probably too stubborn to get into more trouble.”

Daisy raised her head, surprised to hear him. “What?” “Mickey. You know how he is... you know him better than I do. He's headstrong and foolish... so much that even if he was close to death, he'd just be too bullheaded to accept it. So he's probably fine.”

“Are you trying to cheer me up?”

He glanced over at her grimly. “Is it not working?”

“I'm sorry, honey.” Her eyes went down again, a tragic expression that tore up Donald's heart. “I know you might be right, but I can't help worrying. The world is a dangerous place... you, as a samurai, should know that more than anyone. Maybe I would feel more at peace if the previous Oni King hadn't died, and the peace treaty went through, but... now things are dangerous no matter where you go. Mickey could be flattened, or squished, or trampled, or... he could wind up doing the worst thing in the world!”

Maybe it wasn't helping settling her fears by asking, but how did she not expect him to follow up? “What's that?”

Daisy inhaled deeply, and put her free hand to her face to make sure she wouldn't cry. “He might... meet someone!”

All the worry and sadness in Donald's chest vanished in seconds. “What.”

“When a boy meets someone and gets those special feelings, he doesn't need his mommy anymore!” Daisy wailed, and her tears began to flow freely, oblivious to Donald's exasperated stare. “It's too soon! I don't wanna give him up to anyone! They'll never realize how special he is, not like his mommy does!”

For a brief moment, Donald thought perhaps Mickey might be better off without them. “Daisy, isn't he eighteen?”

“Babies are babies no matter how old they get! He's always going to be my darling little boy! That's why I never wanted you to give him the birds and the bees talk!”

Donald had always assumed this was because there would be no birds or bees Mickey's size. If Mickey did meet a special someone, they'd have to be pretty special too in order to love someone past such a big – well, small – obstacle. He considered mentioning this to Daisy, but as he heard her wail about refusing to acknowledge any in-laws, decided not to. His wife could be very silly, but that was one of the things he liked about her. Had Mickey inherited any of that from her?

He really didn't know much about Mickey, did he? Despite having shared a home all these years, there hadn't been much conversation between them, not for lack of trying on Mickey's part. After the awful thing Donald had said in the fields, would Mickey ever want to come back home? What if they did find Mickey, but he had no desire to return with them? That would ultimately destroy Daisy, and he doubted she'd ever recover.

She was odd, but she was also full of love and sincerity and Donald would never want her to change. If Mickey was like Daisy at all, the woman he loved, then shouldn't he be able to find something he loved about Mickey? He allowed Daisy to ramble on, troubled by his guilty conscious.

Was Mickey happier without them, or was he meant to return to a man who still wouldn't acknowledge him as a son? He walked on, and on, and on, and found no answer.

[80smikewheeler]

Chapter 2: The Façade That Masks Deceit

Mike got off the school bus and was greeted, as usual, by Lucas, Dustin and Will. He felt so numb and was in no mood for school at all anymore these days. The three boys walked up to Mike, Will looked a little shocked at Mike’s appearance, “M-Mike?! Are you okay? You don’t look so good!” Will asked concerned. “Yeah Mike! You look like shit!” added Dustin. Lucas kicked Dustin’s foot after he had said that, and gave him a disapproving look. “I think what Dustin was trying to say, is that you look like you could use some rest, have you been sleeping okay?” Lucas said.

Mike glared up at his three friends, and saw their worried expressions, especially Will’s who looked like he was scared for Mike or something. Mike loved his friends, and he knew that they cared about him, but he wasn’t in the mood to have a big heart to heart with them about how he felt, so he forced a smile and replied, “Yeah I’m fine. Just caught a cold, that’s all.” Dustin and Lucas smiled, “Oh good we thought something serious was going on there Mike!” They seemed to have bought it, but not Will. Mike turned his eyes towards his small friend, who was frowning and looking suspicious of him, he didn’t say anything, just looked and stared at him for a minute or two, before saying, “Come on guys! We’ve got science with Mr Clarke first period, lets go! It’s gonna be a fun lesson! We’re doing about planets and space today! Come on, quick! We don’t wanna be late!” One of those words that Will had spoke had stood out for Mike, ‘science’. It reminded him of what he had lost in that science classroom, what had been taken away from him and the cause of his pain and misery, and also the violent, haunting nightmares he had been having. “I’ll catch up with you guys in a minute!” assured Mike. Lucas, Dustin and Will nodded and walked away to class. Mike suddenly felt sick, he felt the need to vomit, he couldn’t bare the thought of going back into that science classroom, he couldn’t face it. He ran down the hallway to the boys toilets, and checked the stalls for anybody in there, luckily there didn’t seem to be anyone about. He burst into the middle stall and slammed the door shut quickly as he lent over the toilet and proceeded to be sick in it. The taste in his mouth was vile, it was biley, and watery, and it made him gag even more. After he had finished, he flushed the toilet and went to wash his hands, when the door suddenly opened and to Mike’s horror, Troy and James walked into the room. Mike quickly tried to dry his hands and get out of there as soon as he could, but Troy had already sighted him. “Hey look it’s frogface! What you doing in here Wheeler in class time? Meeting up with your boyfriend, Will, a couple of gays in the bathroom, hanging out together, being perverts!” Mike tried to ignore his comments and walked towards the door. “Oh no frogface, you’re not going anywhere! Me and James are bored you see, couldn’t stand Miss Roger’s English class anymore, so we threw her stupid books off the desk and left! We need something to entertain us, and literature isn’t that fun and entertaining, but hanging out with our pal froggy is! GRAB HIM!” Shouted Troy. James grabbed Mikes arms and carried him over to one of the stalls, the middle one…Mike tried to wrestle free out of James’ grasp, but Troy held his head back towards him. He reached down into his pocket and produced a knife…he flipped the lid and held it at a little distance away from Mike’s neck. “Drink that toilet water Wheeler, sup it all up for me and James, if you don’t we’ll have to dunk your head in for you.” Mike tried again and again to squirm free, but Troy was too strong for his pushes and wriggles. “Hm? What’s wrong frogface?! You usually have something to say to me, especially after that stunt you pulled in the gymnasium last term, oh yeah, I haven’t forgot that, you’ll get payback for that Mikey boy!” Troy sneered. “So what? No comment to make? Not even gonna plead for me to leave you alone? Wow, you’ve really become even more of a loser Wheeler.” Just as Mike was about to say something back to Troy, the door opened again and Mr Clarke was standing in its frame. “WHAT ON EARTH IS GOING ON HERE! TROY, JAMES! GET OUT OF HER NOW! LEAVE!” Troy and James scarpered, and Mike was left breathing heavily in the stall. “Michael! Are you okay?��� Asked Mr Clarke. Mike was silent and nodded. “Are you sure? Your friends were worried about you, they said you’d been gone a while, it’s a good job I came to look for you! Are you sure you’re alright? You look a little peaky, and that’s putting it mildly. Do you need me to ring your mother?” “NO!” Mike sharply remarked. “You don’t need to do that! I just must have eaten something funny, I’m okay now though. I’ll come to class now.” Mike couldn’t deal with anymore of his mothers smothering concerns, it just made him feel worse. He would rather face going into that classroom, that awful room, rather than have his mother worrying over him more than she already did, so he agreed to come to class. He followed Mr Clarke out of the bathroom and slowly headed with him towards the science classroom. He felt his heart beating faster, it brought back flashes of his dreams he’d been having lately, and he felt his stomach churning, he thought he was going to have to run back to the toilet again to be sick, but he fought the feeling and forced himself to walk into the classroom with Mr Clarke.

When he entered, Dustin, Will and Lucas all looked up at him in unison. Dustin smiled and signalled with a wave of his hand to come over and sit with them. Will moved over so that Mike could sit next to him and Mike took off his backpack, and sat on the stool next to Will. “Hey were you okay Mike?” Asked Dustin. “You were gone for quite some time! We got worried about you.” “Yeah, um, I just had to get a tissue for my nose, for my cold…” Mike tried to assure them. “For all that time?” Asked Will. “Yeah you were gone for such a long time! Are you sure nothing else happened?” added Lucas. “YES!” Mike shouted. “Would you please stop fussing over me! You’re turning into my mum!” “Okay, okay! We just wanted to be sure, that’s all!” said Dustin. “Yeah, if you need to speak to us about anything you know you can right? We’re here for you Mike!” assured Lucas. “Thanks guys, but I’m fine, really, you don’t have to worry about me.” Will smiled at Mike and patted his shoulder, trying to comfort him. The other three turned their heads and listened in to what Mr Clarke was saying about gases in space. Mike listened for a moment, but soon his words were muffled and merging, as Mike stared at the walls of the classroom. He stared at the new blackboard that the school had fitted, in place of the old one where Lucas had hit the demogorgan with his wrist rocket and sent it flying back, crashing into the board, leaving cracks and crumbling pieces of wall and board. He tried not to think of El walking up to it, and doing what she did. Sacrificing herself for Mike once again. Protecting him as she had always done. He closed his eyes, he couldn’t bare to look at the room, it was starting to make him feel sick again. He buried his head into the desk and tried to drown out the reality around him. He tried to force his brain to forget about what had happened in this room, he turned his mind to the happier times he had with El. The good memories. He thought about the way she looked when she had opened that bedroom door and was wearing his sisters pale pink dress, and that old wig that Dustin had found in the basement. Mike couldn’t believe his eyes when she had emerged, he looked upon her, the light flooding her figure from behind her. He remembered how he felt a strange and unfamiliar feeling in his stomach, like butterflies, and his heart seemed to be skipping a beat or two. She looked so angelic, so pure and fairly like. He thought now how that was a bit of a foretelling for what happened afterwards, because El did become his guardian angel, protecting his from danger. He remembered how he hadn’t even thought about what he was saying before it left his mouth, when he said, “Pretty!” And then quickly regained sense of where he was and who he was with, so quickly added, “Good…You look pretty good!” to stop Lucas and especially Dustin making comments or silly sounds like, “Ooooooohhhh! Mike likes El!” in a childish voice. How Mike wished he could go back to that memory, relive it again. But instead he was in the classroom where he lost her, the place where his recent nightmares had been taking place. He felt a shake on his shoulder, “Mike! Do you wanna be partners for this group project? Dustin and Lucas are already doing it with each other, so why don’t we work together?” Asked Will in a cheerful tone. “What?” Mike asked confused. “Oh uh hm yeah sure, cool!” “Great! Do you wanna come over tomorrow night for tea with my mum and Jonathan, and we can work on the project together?” “Yeah okay, sure.” replied Mike in a disinterested tone. “Okay great! I’ve got History class now, but meet me, Dustin and Lucas for lunch at 12 as normal right?” happily asked Will. Mike smiled, “Yeah alright! See you at 12!” Will, Dustin and Lucas waved goodbye to Mike and headed out of the classroom for their next class. Mike packed up his stuff, and dragged himself across the room, trying to avoid looking too much at it, he could feel a tear coming to his eyes, but fought it back and exited the room, to get to his next class.

12pm came fast enough. Mike walked into the dining hall, feeling sluggish and weary. His eyes scanned the room for a moment, then clapped on to his friends sat at the far back of the hall. He studied them for a minute or two, Dustin was flicking food at Lucas and his head was tilted carelessly back in laughter as each piece of food struck Lucas in the face, like mini cannonballs, splattering and exploding onto his face. Each blow made Lucas more angry, but only a playful anger, which Mike had come to know so well. He studied Will. He was laughing at the scene that was unfolding between Dustin and Lucas. His expression, shocked, his mouth agape at every firing of food, and mischievous laughter erupting along with it, his hands covering his mouth as he laughed and pretended to be shocked. Mike almost smiled for a moment. He looked at them and saw himself, a past version of himself, when he had no worries or cares, nothing to weigh on his shoulders, as now the weight of the loss and grief of El hung over him like a storm on his shoulders, a weight that only he could bare. He slowly started approaching the table where his friends sat, eager to try to clear his mind of the throbbing, torturous thoughts in his head. Dustin and Lucas had seen him approaching. “HEY MIKE!” Shouted Dustin. Over here!“ Will had now turned 180 degrees to face Mike as he had almost reached he table. He smiled at Mike, warm and happy to see him. Mike took a seat next to Will and faced Dustin and Lucas. He tried to plaster a smile on his face, he didn’t want them worrying of him anymore than they had to, and he didn’t want to be the dampener on their fun. Dustin parted his lips to speak, “Mike! You just missed the funniest thing ever!” “Did I?” Asked Mike. “Yeah! Lucas just got pasted by my vegetables, it was hilarious!” Lucas gave Dustin a dirty look, but the supposed severeness of it lifted as he gently laughed and joked around playfully shoving Dustin slightly to the side. Mike felt worse. He didn’t seem to find any humour or enjoyment in this conversation as he normally would have, but he couldn’t bear to ruin his friends fun, so forced a laugh and comment of praise in Dustin for such a funny action. Will assessed Mike, and after a moments silence in clear thought, he asked, “Where is your food Mike?” Mike had forgotten about his packed lunch that his mother had so urgently shoved into his hand earlier that morning, begging of her son to eat something. He put his hands to his face, “Oh no! I’ve left it in my locker!” As if he was really going to eat it anyway. He had no desire to eat, it made him feel ill, but he had to say something to his friends to reassure them that everything was as normal. “Why don’t you just go to the hot dinner counter now? You still have a few un-stamped boxes to fill, you could just have a hot dinner for today and have the lunch box tomorrow?” Suggested Lucas. Mike really wasn’t in the mood for food, the memory of the warm, sour, rancid taste of the vomit that he had thrown up earlier that day, was still fresh in his mind, and the thought of food after that made him feel more sick. But the last thing he wanted was his friends to worry and maybe say something to his mum, causing her to launch in a fit of worry and panic for her son. So Mike decided it was better to try and force himself to eat something, save his mothers worries. He rose from the table and signalled that he would be right back. Meanwhile the three remaining boys pondered at the table. “Do you think Mike is okay?” Enquired Will. “Well it’s been a while now since El went, I imagine he is still pretty torn up about it, but I’d imagined he’d be okay by now.” replied Dustin. “I’m sure it’s just this cold that he’s got! He probably feels sluggish and tiresome. I know I do when I have a cold, so I don’t think we need to worry. He’ll be right as rain in a few days.” Lucas added. Something in Will stirred and he felt that this ‘cold’ was not what was ailing Mike, but he knew prodding and probing him about it would get him nowhere, he decided to just for now, keep a watchful eye on his best friend.

Meanwhile, over at the hot food counter, Mike scoured the food options, everything looked lumpy and disgusting and made his stomach churn, but he knew he had to get something, even if it was just to quell his friends concerns. He pondered the options for a moment longer and eventually decided on a simple lunch meat sandwich, it was the least heavy of the dishes available, and didn’t make him feel physically ill as the others did. He walked with his tray back to the lunch table with his friends and tried to engage in light hearted conversation to take his mind off things…

The distant echo of a bell ringing sounded at 1pm, signalling the end of lunch and time to resume classes again. Mike peered down at his plate, he hadn’t eaten much, two bites out of one of the sandwiches and that was all. He could only just about stomach that much, before images and memories of the biley, vomit came back to mind. Will looked concerned, “You didn’t each much Mike? Is your cold making you feel stuffy and full already?” Mike took this opportunity he was given, “Yeah, I just feel stuffy and not really in an appetising mood.” The others didn’t seem to notice the lack of food Mike was having and walked to put their trays back on the rack. Mike followed, picking up his tray that displayed the not even half eaten sandwiches. He stared at the pink meat, rosy and cobbled together in thick and lumpy chunks. It made him feel nauseated, and he was glad to not have to eat any more of it and leave it behind on the tray rack. Mike silently walked beside his friends along the long, meandering corridor to class, feeling empty and drained. He did not care for the remainder of the school day, he put no effort into his work, not feeling or seeing any point.

That night he returned home to his mother sitting on the steps as he walked in through the front door. He could tell she had been waiting impatiently for him to arrive back from school. He dreaded what words would come out of her mouth this time… “Michael!” She rose alert in her voice. “I wanted to speak with you.” Mike internally rolled his eyes at her, but didn’t externally do such a thing, as he couldn’t be bothered for the fight. She beckoned him to follow her into the living room where it was only him and her, private. She patted the seat beside her to usher Mike to sit beside her. Mike did as instructed and awaited her topic of conversation. Karen suddenly grabbed hold of her son, embracing him in a warm and comforting hug. “Listen Michael.” She started, “ I want to apologise first of all for going on at you about sleeping and eating. I didn’t mean to moan at you or annoy you. I was just worried that something was wrong, you’ve been a little off these days. You haven’t been sleeping well, nor eating well either, and it just worries me. You would tell me if something was going on wouldn’t you?” “Yes, of course mum!” Answered Mike. He had played this game a lot with his mother as a young boy, he knew that arguing and talking back to her would not help the situation, only hinder it. He knew that the best way to get his mother off his back and to keep her happy, was to agree with what she was saying and assure her that if anything was going on, he would tell her. He didn’t hide his problems from her in spite or out of anger with his mother, he just needed to time to think for himself, to think what was going on in his own head, and how to remedy his thoughts, and he knew he could only do that alone. His mothers smothering and constant worry, would only put him off his thoughts and he didn’t want to worry her anyway, so he just agreed with and and reassured that everything was okay. He added, “I think I’ve just caught a cold and it’s preventing me from sleeping well and food is off-putting to me while I am ill, but a cold doesn’t take long to clear, and I’ll be okay soon. Don’t worry mum please.” Karen nodded and embraced her son again. “Okay, I see now I was overreacting. You are clearly okay, you’ve just got a cold, I can see that now. I am sorry Michael for moaning at you and going on, I am glad to know that you’re okay.” Mike sighed a breath of relief. He had managed to buy his mother off with false reassurances and promises that he was okay. She had laid off him. Thank God. He could think alone now without having his mother breathing down his neck and constantly checking that he was okay. He smiled at her and said, “I think I might have a nap now before supper. It was pretty tiring today at school. I feel very tired.” At this, Karen was pleased to hear her son say he was going to try and go to sleep, as he had barely been sleeping much as of late, so it was a cool wave of relief to her ears. She smiled and kissed his forehead. “Okay Michael. That’s fine with me! Go on now” she gestured, “Go and get some rest. I’ll wake you for supper later on.” Mike escaped his mums presence, and wearily clambered up the stairs to his bedroom. He turned the knob, the door opened with a gentle moan, and Mike closed it straight after him. He surveyed his room to see the mess from the previous night’s restless sleep, the broken glass and pottery gone. He guessed his mother must have swept it all up while he was in school. He took off his coat and shoes and clambered into bed. He was about to fall asleep when he shot back up from his bed. He was still scared, he could not deny it. He was scared that he dream would return again. He couldn’t face it, he knew it would come back again, as it did most nights after El had…gone… He reached down beside the bed for his backpack and rummaged through it until his hand clasped on the object he had been looking for. His mother must not know he had these, she would go mad at him, she would go even more mad when she found out that he had detoured into the chemist after school to retrieve them, claiming they were for his mother, and he was merely an errand runner for her, picking them up for her. He pulled his hand out of the bag and popped two of these things into his mouth, before laying down, pulling the covers over him and placing the box he had pulled from his bag onto his bedside cabinet. He felt drowsy and drifted off, the box he had placed besides him, tilted up toward the window, the last remainders of daylight shining into the top of the box, making the writing visible, ‘Johnson’s Pharmacy 2mg Sleeping Tablets’…