WHEN THE NIGHT IS OVER // GREEN

[mickey]

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— it had been a long walk back by himself. eyes darted around as mickey walked through the night, pale moonlight lighting his way back home. a certain uneasiness clung to tensed shoulders. the last time he had been walking this path alone, he thought he was going to die at the hands of the carbines. even while the carbines weren’t around anymore - and he knew that - there was still the unreasonable paranoia that clawed at him whenever he walked alone. it was only amplified that night. the night he left with another person by his side. and came back alone. he had every reason to be paranoid. he eventually turned his gaze away from the treeline and looked at the district in the distance as he approached.

as he walked, he had plenty of time to ponder silently to himself. he had killed a man. he killed a fiance, a friend to others. it only reminded him of his past with the carbines, of all those times he had other peoples’ blood on his hands. he couldn’t wash the blood away even if he tried. there was a certain guilt that clung to him. a silent shame. it felt almost unfounded; mateo had hurt people, he knew that. still, morals could be conflicting for even someone as dark as himself.

“you’re a good kid, mickey. remember that.”

he might have said that- but did that make it true?

mickey hated the fact that he was just as bad as brock van den bergh in his own eyes.

it was too late at night for the streets to be bustling with life, he noted. instead the district remained ominously quiet, as if it knew what had happened. what mickey had done. he shoved his hands in his pockets as he turned down a corner. he only stopped once he neared a familiar house. paused. took a deep breath. then, mickey gently knocked on green’s door. while the journey itself had felt long for him, mickey could only imagine exactly what green had felt while he was away.

he could picture green standing at the door throughout the night, fearing who would be the person he opened the door to see when the nigth was over. so many things could have gone wrong, and they both knew that. and-- mickey wasn’t even sure how green would feel knowing that everything went right. death wasn’t an easy concept and, empty and broken as green might have seemed, it seemed like the man still was so innocent. there was still a light in the darkness. he wasn’t like everyone else. he wasn’t like mickey. he wasn’t a murderer. how could mick convince him that he wasn’t?

the door eventually opened, able to see green’s face. and all of the doubts mickey had once felt. the guilt that came with killing someone else, with having this blood on his hands… it seemed to fade away in that moment, at least momentarily. death wasn’t easy for anyone, especially someone as innocent as green - especially someone who tried to run away from their past self, like mickey. though sometimes, he decided- sometimes, death was outweighed by the idea of what betterment could come from it. if that meant seeing green slowly start to be able to pick himself up again, then mick felt convinced that whatever he had done was worth it all. there will always be a cost, but there is also good which will come out of even the most profound of situations. he would never tell brock that he was right.

standing there, he felt almost unsure what to say. he had all of this time to think of what to tell green, of how to tell him that he was finally free from the abuse. that more than anything mickey would be there to help. instead all he could do was stare in those soft blue eyes. “hey.” it was the first word to fall from his lips, the first thing that came to mind. if it had been any other situation, he would’ve almost wanted to laugh at his own uncertainty. the reality of it all hadn’t completely sunken in until then, it felt. he turned his gaze away and ran his tongue over his lower lip. considering his next words.

he looked back over to green. “can i come in?” he quietly asked, searching green’s gaze. truthfully, he was exhausted. tired bones longed to go back home, lay down in his bed, and rest. however, mickey would be lying if he said that he wanted to be alone tonight. he was sure that green felt the same, if not more so.

[GREENIE.]

The guilt was intolerable.

Green twitched as nostrils flared gently, body trembling as he stood in the emptiness of a home that was not his own. Mateo was not a sentimental man, he noted silently as eyes surveyed the room. No photographs lined up along the wall, no heirlooms or keepsakes. He was not a man of tenderness, but one of sheer heartlessness. Did he possess any qualities of a human being? Remorse? Anguish? Empathy?

What made someone human?

Was it the way they thought, spoke, interacted with the world? No, it was their ability to love, to sympathise and care for others. It was the strength of their heart. As Green stared at the vacancy of all adoration in the world, Green knew that Mateo was incapable of all affection. Of all kindness. There was no love in his heart, no emotion in his soul. As much as Green wanted to believe otherwise, there was no redemption for a man as sinister as Mateo Suarez.

He felt sick to the stomach. Green was supposed to stand up for the underdogs like him, the people who were overlooked when all they needed was their voice to be heard. Never did Green expect that his will to fix the broken would be taken advantage of by a man who feigned brokenness when in reality he was the one who broke people.

Some men managed to find creation in their own destruction; others just wanted to watch the world burn around them. Green huffed a hollow breath of laughter, void of all joy - there came a time where he had to accept that he simply couldn’t fix a person. Some people couldn’t be saved… He had finally seen what the darkness did to people and, once he realized that this couldn’t go on for any longer, he finally told Mickey that he had been broken by Mateo.

He dragged a wicker basket over into the middle of the room, beginning to messily pack some of Mateo’s belongings up. He had to make it look like Mateo had hastily packed his things before fleeing in the night. He picked up a neatly folded shirt on the dresser in the bedroom, shaking it out to see the fabric in its entirety. He held it up, vacantly staring at the familiarity of the clothing. The shirt he’d worn the final time he’d hurt Green.

Tears pricked in his eyes, grimacing in agony before he quickly crumpled the shirt up and threw it into the basket.

The night was long. Green had stood on the stretch of beach, bonfire roaring relentlessly as Green threw Mateo’s belongings one-by-one as they were eaten up by the flames. All traces of that monster had to be perished, swallowed by the world just like the ocean would swallow him whole that night.

If Mickey and Brock managed to get the job done.

Gnawing on his lip until it began to bleed, Green waited in the darkness of his living room, the smell of smoke and burnt timber in his clothing and hair as his knee bounced. What if Mateo had the upper hand? What if Mickey was killed instead? What if Mateo returned to kill Green too? A kitchen knife lay on the side table, waiting there just in case. Oh Mickey - what had Green gotten that man into? Green tipped his head up, staring at the dark ceiling, hands trembling, breathing labored… What if Mateo killed Mickey tonight? That would be his blood on Green’s hand.

A knock at the door had him flinch violently, hesitating firmly in his seat before cautiously standing up and walking over towards the door, knife held in his hand. Just in case. Slowly, he creaked the door open to reveal Mickey stood solemnly, and Green’s shoulders slumped. He thought that he was going to sob on the spot, but instead he stood, staring over at Mickey with pleading eyes. Green needed assurance. Guidance. Mateo was dead. What next?

❝ Hey. ❞ Mick was soft. He was gentle, as if Green was fragile and ought to be handled with care. ❝ Hi. ❞ Green uttered quietly beneath his breath, attempting a smile yet it fell short into a look of mixed emotion. Face twitching, eyes blinking, jaw wobbling. This was overwhelming. Mickey had killed a man, and Green was feeling relieved of that very fact. No- more than relieved. The shackles which restrained him from life had been broken. Green was free.

As Mick asked if he could come in, Green willingly stepped back, holding the door open for him wordlessly before clicking the door shut again once Mickey entered his home. He left the door unlocked. Wandering back to the lounge, he quietly placed the knife on the bookshelf before he took a seat back down on the sofa.

❝ I- uh- I went to his house. Like I said I would. Burned uh- um everything that I thought he would’ve taken with him if he were to leave. ❞ Green mumbled quietly through a wobbling voice. Overwhelmed and overcome with emotions, Green glanced over at Mickey with glazed over eyes. He was trying so hard not the cry, but the attempts seemed nearly futile. After all, he’d been abused tirelessly for months. Not only did he fear that harm would come to his loved ones, but he was waiting for Mateo to get bored of Green and kill him.

Finally, he was no longer on death row.

❝ What happens next? ❞ He asked, sounding at if he was choking on his tongue. Chewing down on his bottom lip again, his face shriveled up as he looked away, just as two tears escaped from the pooling in his eyes.

Mateo was dead, and it’d been because of Green.

[align=center][div style="width: 430px; text-align: justify; font-family:verdana; font-size: 7px;"][spoiler=tags : updated 03/06]basics.
✫ vernon jeremiah green // only known as green or greenie
✫ he doesn't introduce himself as vernon
✫ male // he/him
✫ twenty four // ages real time // born twenty first april
✫ leader of northstar district
✫ stepped up as leader - twentieth april 2039

appearance.
✫ faceclaim - taron egerton
✫ voice claim - taron egerton
✫ family originally comes from llanfairpwllgwyngyll in wales
✫ has a mixed british accent with a welsh and american twang
✫ 5'10ft // lean yet well-built from working out
✫ soft blue eyes and dirty blonde hair
✫ physical health - 70%
    ¬ current injuries: he's gotten a series on unexplained injuries all over him.
✫ mental health - 50%
    ¬ he's turned into a shell of the man he used to be; paranoid, anxious and visibly distressed with an apparent change in character.

personality.
✫ fundamentally he has a good heart // humble
✫ very assertive // does what he can to benefit northstar
✫ has a good set of morals // cares for people unconditionally
✫ very relaxed and composed with self-assurance and confidence
✫ incredibly complacent and laid back unless he's fighting for his cause
✫ massive daredevil // is very into extreme sports
✫ fearless, stupidly so // doesn't mind risking his own life
✫ generally easy to get on with, it's difficult to dislike him
✫ doesn't think into the future // only thinks about the present
✫ dependable and very loyal to his friends

relationships.
✫ david green x cassandra griffiths // both are deceased
✫ only child // his biological father died before he was born
✫ green was orphaned when he was nine
✫ fostered by caroline and steve miles
✫ both his foster parents died when green was eleven
✫ his chihuahua and pug, midas and ginnie, are basically his children
✫ doesn't really label his sexuality // comfortable with who he is
✫ formerly dated fallon rude
✫ formerly dated paige montgomery
✫ formerly had a brief fling with winifred maddison
✫ has a daughter named felicity montgomery

interaction.
✫ storage // playlist // pinterest
✫ physically: hard // mentally: medium
✫ his weapon of choice is a bat, yet he only has it for defense
✫ also has a bow and arrow, but uses it for recreation
✫ much prefers to run away // is exceptional at parkour
✫ very diplomatic and much prefers mediation rather than fighting
✫ dislikes confrontation yet will fight if need be // not a fan of close-ranged attacks
✫ foster parents taught him self-defense
✫ living on the streets turned him into a good fighter
[/spoiler]

[mickey]

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— what made someone human? mick used to ask himself the same thing. vacant eyes would stare into a dirtied mirror after washing the day’s bloodshed from his face. a shell of a man would look back back. his lips would tremble slightly before he turned his gaze away. a mangled sob would occasionally pass his breath as he continued to desperately wash murderous hands. the racing of his heart was the only thing that reminded him he was alive. what made someone human? nightmares would jolt him awake in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. breathing hard. eyes would glance towards tara sleeping peacefully beside him. careful not to wake her up, mickey would leave the room. many nights he stand alone in the living room and wish he could shake away the memories. he would clutch softly at his chest until he felt he could finally breathe again.

what made a monster?

it wouldn’t be too big of a conclusion to say that mateo and mick had once been one in the same. monsters. but mickey had changed in his ways after falling down that dark hole. who was to say mateo wouldn’t eventually do the same? what if mateo had wanted to change? what if he some day decided it was time to change for the better? he breathed an almost pained sigh. it looked like they would never know. unlike mickey, nobody had given the man a chance to redeem himself. mateo continued his downward spiral without a sudden change of heart, a revelation, anything to make him stop the pain and damage he inflicted on others. he died a monster; few others would know him as anything different. it was for the best, mick reasoned.

still, the sick feeling clung to him inside. what made him and mateo so different? why did he get a second shot at life while mateo’s came to an abrupt end? perhaps the parts of mateo that made him human had never been there to begin with. mick doubted he had ever fallen into that dark hole or wandered down the dark path; rather, he was born already in it. his intentions had never been to do what he had to protect those he loved. there was no selfless reason behind his abuse; it was selfish anger, hatred and a hunger for power that motivated him to do the things he had done. mateo might have never been an innocent and gentle person. mateo might not have ever had a kind heart to begin with. maybe that was what set them apart. that was what mick told himself, at least. he hoped it was true.

”hi.” the sick feeling in his chest felt eased upon seeing green. it didn’t make everything feel right, it didn’t shake the guilt. however, it made him feel like he had made the right choice. green had suffered long enough; if he had the choice to go back and do it again, he wouldn’t have changed a thing. eyes wandered towards green’s hand, the knife clenched tightly. he didn’t acknowledge it. green must have been so scared. he must have felt so alone. mick lifted his gaze slowly back towards green’s glazed eyes and trembling lips. he never had to feel that way again, not if mick had a say in it. no regrets. the only regret was that he couldn’t help green get out of it sooner.

he stepped inside the house, quiet. waiting for green to make himself comfortably on the sofa before he slowly settled in on the opposite side. he couldn’t help but think about the last week. just the other week he had sat on a sofa, green’s head in his lap as the young man sobbed uncontrollably. inconsolable. now the two sat on opposite ends of the sofa, letting reality sink in after what had happened. the man that caused green so much hurt and pain, and anguish- was gone. how does someone carry on after they’re suddenly freed?

it was the same quiet he felt only months ago, after leaving the city with the stirling-morays. the carbines had come to an end. with that end came an uneasy quiet. a little over a year, he was tormented by the idea of them coming and killing the ones he loved. he was scared of them finding where he was and killing him. suddenly knowing that he wasn’t going to get killed… there was a feeling in that silence that couldn’t be put to words. with the quiet came relief, gratitude - but also a weight. he remembered sitting in a chair, watching eddie slept peacefully, the steady rise and fall of his chest and wondering; what next? he wondered if that’s how green felt.

green’s voice wobbled as he spoke. mick turned his head to watch him with a careful gaze, meeting the man’s glazed over eyes. looked like he was barely holding himself together. how desperately he wished he could console him. how could he help someone when he had never gone through what green had gone through? how could he help someone like green when he was used to being the monster in the story, not the golden heart?  “what happens next?”

“we wait,” he explained, nodding his head to himself. “others will start to notice he’s gone. play along. and-” he considered his next words before softly saying, almost an afterthought, “start living again.” it was easier said than done, mick knew. things would return to normal, people wouldn’t question mateo’s disappearance with suspicion. the world would keep spinning. it felt hard to imagine that when it seemed the world was standing still. though after months of yearning to breathe free again, green finally got that. green deserved that.

“it’s okay to feel the way you do, right now,” he broke the silence, eventually turning his gaze back towards the man beside him. quieter, he uttered, “it’s okay.” to feel overwhelmed, confused, guilty.. green had to know those feelings were completely valid, and they were real. he wasn’t crazy for feeling such mixed emotions. he wasn’t crazy for not knowing what to do next after finally being freed from such pain.

he turned his gaze down towards the space between them, wetting his lower lip briefly before asking, “it almost doesn’t feel real, yeah?” eyes looked attentively over towards green. “how do you feel?” let the man talk without judgment; it was the least he could do.

[GREENIE.]

Green had never realized that safety could be in the form of a person until that very moment. Soft eyes looked up to meet the gaze of Mickey's, and Green swallowed hard. Was it right to find such solace in the comprehension that Mickey had successfully killed a man for Green? He felt such guilt, such conflicting emotions at the gravity of this moment. Mateo was dead. Mickey didn't even need to open his mouth for Green to know; he could see it in his eyes.

He welcomed Mickey into the house, exhaling a shuddering breath through parted lips as he made his way into the living room, curling his legs up on the sofa as Mickey made himself comfortable on the opposite side. Gaze was unable to look over at him for a moment instead staring off to the side at curtains which were drawn shut, the room lit up by nothing more than a couple of candles. Mickey had done the unthinkable, and all for Green. He was willing to kill in order to keep him safe. Green allowed his eyes to flutter shut briefly, trying to silently console his pounding heart.

Not too long ago, Green had laid his head upon Mickey's lap, breath labored as he sobbed uncontrollably. A man who'd been so broken that he felt nothing more than helplessness. The inevitability of his fate. He was nothing more than an innocent man trapped on death row. Now, the room was silent, two solemn faces lit up only by candlelight as they wordlessly contemplated the night that they'd never forget.

He was gone. Green would never see Mateo again. He would never hear that chilling tone in his voice when he was disappointed in Green. Never again would Green have to stare into the darkness in his eyes, that sinister, power-hungry glimmer that shone in Mateo's gaze. He never had to be beaten bloodied and blue ever again, sat alone in the darkness of his home as he tended to his wounds through gasping, panicked breaths.

Eventually, Green broke the silence, turning his head to look over at Mickey meekly. He could barely hold himself together, but he refused to let himself break down again. Instead, he cleared his throat as it began to feel constricted, continuing to notify Mick of everything he'd done in his absence. Green had dealt with things on this side. It felt like a betrayal to his own people to hide all evidence from them, but they didn't know what he knew. All he wanted was to keep everybody else safe. Not only was he doing this for himself, but he was doing it for them.

Upon asking his question, Green lowered his eyes to stare at his lap. We wait. Was it that simple? They just continue on as if nothing mattered? ❝ Start living again. ❞ Green lifted his head to look back towards Mick, mulling over those three words momentarily before he looked away again. Start living again. In that moment, realization overcame him. This was the end of all things - Green didn't have to suffer again. He was no longer a dead man walking, but a man free to live again.

❝ It's okay to feel the way you do, right now. ❞ Green could feel Mick's eyes on him, Green's lips tight as he tried desperately to keep himself together. He was so conflicted. He had a man killed to stop him from being killed; did that make him as bad as Mateo? What about the life Mateo could've lived if his life hadn't been ended before his time? God, Green's selflessness was nothing more than weakness in this moment. This was disorientating.

It didn't feel real.

Green huffed a joyless breath of laughter as Mick verbally confirmed Green's thoughts. Yeah, it really didn't feel real. It felt like whilst one nightmare ended, another had only begun. Would this guilt live on forever? ❝ How do you feel? ❞ Green grimaced ever-so-slightly to himself. If he didn't even know, then how could be verbalize his feelings to Mick?

❝ I- ❞ He began, lips left parted as he found no words to say. He sighed, thinking deeply, until he tried again. ❝ I don't think I know how to start living again. ❞ He mumbled quietly. ❝ It's been so long... that my life has been an extension of his- ❞ Mateo's. ❝ that I don't know how to make it my own again. ❞ Words were shaky, quiet and weak. As if, without Mateo, he had lost all sense of who he was. 

❝ I just want to be me again, but that feels like wishful thinking. ❞

He was quiet for a long moment, thinking about what he was going to say next, until he looked towards Mick. ❝ Was it hard? ❞ He paused, then adding, ❝ To kill him, I mean. ❞ He didn't mean physically, but whether Mickey found it mentally straining to end a man's life. Green would not know; he never killed a person before. The thought itself was horrifying to think about, but he didn't see Mick any differently. If anything, it confirmed to Green that Mick was a good man. He could trust him with his life.

[align=center][div style="width: 430px; text-align: justify; font-family:verdana; font-size: 7px;"][spoiler=tags : updated 03/23]basics.
✫ vernon jeremiah green // only known as green or greenie
✫ he doesn't introduce himself as vernon
✫ male // he/him
✫ twenty four // ages real time // born twenty first april
✫ leader of northstar district
✫ stepped up as leader - twentieth april 2039

appearance.
✫ faceclaim - taron egerton
✫ voice claim - taron egerton
✫ family originally comes from llanfairpwllgwyngyll in wales
✫ has a mixed accent with a welsh and american twang
✫ 5'10ft // lean yet well-built from working out
✫ soft blue eyes and dirty blonde hair
✫ physical health - 80%
    ¬ current injuries: he's recovering from a series of unexplained injuries.
✫ mental health - 60%
    ¬ he's currently recovering after a long term traumatic incident where he was being abused.

personality.
✫ fundamentally he has a good heart // humble
✫ very assertive // does what he can to benefit northstar
✫ has a good set of morals // cares for people unconditionally
✫ very relaxed and composed with self-assurance and confidence
✫ incredibly complacent and laid back unless he's fighting for his cause
✫ massive daredevil // is very into extreme sports
✫ fearless, stupidly so // doesn't mind risking his own life
✫ generally easy to get on with, it's difficult to dislike him
✫ doesn't think into the future // only thinks about the present
✫ dependable and very loyal to his friends

relationships.
✫ david green x cassandra griffiths // both are deceased
✫ only child // his biological father died before he was born
✫ green was orphaned when he was nine
✫ fostered by caroline and steve miles
✫ both his foster parents died when green was eleven
✫ his chihuahua and pug, midas and ginnie, are basically his children
✫ doesn't really label his sexuality // comfortable with who he is
✫ formerly dated fallon rude
✫ formerly dated paige montgomery
✫ formerly had a brief fling with winifred maddison
✫ has a daughter named felicity montgomery

interaction.
✫ storage // playlist // pinterest
✫ physically: medium // mentally: medium
✫ he has a bow and arrow, but tends to use it for recreation
✫ much prefers to run away // is exceptional at parkour
✫ very diplomatic and much prefers mediation rather than fighting
✫ dislikes confrontation yet will fight if need be // not a fan of close-ranged attacks
✫ foster parents taught him self-defense
✫ living on the streets turned him into a good fighter
[/spoiler]

[mickey]

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— green had endured so much; it was hard to have to tell him that this was all far from over. there was a lot that mick could have told him from past experience, from having once been in those shoes himself. however, he didn’t think he was the right person to give that kind of advice when he was nowhere close to the end of his own journey towards recovery. besides, the two were so different; any advice he gave the man wouldn’t apply to someone who was still such a light, a beacon in the eyes of many. part of him believed that green deserved someone better to walk alongside him throughout all of this.

he believed that, yet he still refused to move away from green’s side and allow anyone else to fill that role. there was such a fire inside of him, a desire to try and save everyone he possibly could, even if there was someone out there who could do it better. he wanted to help green, to be a friend and confidant when green would otherwise have felt alone. he wanted to be there for him.

eyes blinked over at green as he started to talk about his feelings, just pouring his heart out to him.

”i just want to be me again, but that feels like wishful thinking.”
eyes never left green’s features, even when the man’s gaze was elsewhere. they were quiet for a long moment. mick didn’t even know what to say, what he could say. he wasn’t the kind of man to blindly make assurances he couldn’t wholeheartedly believe in. to say green would be fine and recover completely from this wouldn’t be the complete truth; he couldn’t even say there was any truth to it, for all he knew. physically he’d recover, he was sure, but the scars would still remain. even the ones that couldn’t be seen on the surface.

“who knows. once you start living again,” he started, leaning back in a long breath. eyes searched green’s features as he murmured, “maybe you’ll end up liking the new you.” there was something about those words that was significant to him personally. perhaps it was because those were words he needed to hear, himself. part of him still felt reluctant to speak about it out loud, but not too long ago he’d been in green’s shoes. there were days where he was uncertain about anything in life.  he was scared that he would never be able to be the old mick again; he knew he never would be. but, nowadays, the idea wasn’t nearly as terrifying. he grew. he changed, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t look in the mirror from time to time and feel a slight sense of pride in exactly where he ended up in life. “give yourself time,” he assured softly.

the words were definitely easier said than done. it had been a long road for mickey already, and his own journey left him often wondering how much more time he possibly needed. though if there was anything that he could do for green, he could at least be there. help him along this new journey and help him find his footing. it was the least he could do.

green deserved that and so much more.

green looked towards mick. ”was it hard?” mickey blinked. “to kill him, i mean.” as much as he should’ve anticipated a question like that, it felt there was no way to truly prepare himself for it. there was so much about him that green didn’t know; so much about him that he didn’t want green to know, in fear of being viewed differently. he tapped fingers shortly against the arm of the couch, eyes wandering up to the ceiling in thought.

how could one describe such a numbness towards something so dark?

he paused. “i’ve done a lot of things in my life.” vague and not quite hitting the mark the way mickey wished it would. impassive features briefly gave away to show a more somber look in those once-stoic eyes.  “a lot of them are things i regret.” he was opening up, yet it still felt like he was so distant and vague with his words. this vague explanation was still so much for him. “back then, my mind usually went blank, did everything on autopilot almost. but-” he swallowed, clenched his jaw shortly in thought. “all i could think about was everything he had done, how he didn’t seem to have any remorse.” he gestured absently with one hand, unable to describe exactly how he felt. he thought it was guilt. but there wasn’t a feeling of remorse, of regret. how could he have guilt for killing a man that didn’t feel sorry for his own crimes? instead, he liked to think it was more so a sense of something he couldn’t quite describe. a subtle blame for causing death when he foolishly told himself he’d never have blood on his hands again. he was a monster, sometimes a self-proclaimed angel of death; how could he have believed he’d be anything different?

eyes looked up towards the ceiling, swallowing hard again. realizing he’d rambled without a real answer, he decided, “it felt easy at the time. but,” he blinked, “usually it’s after everything is said and done that it finally sinks in.” eyes wandered over towards green, searching his features for a moment. and it felt apparent there that, whatever green did know about mickey, his thoughts about him were unchanged. mick talked more about himself in that moment to green than he did almost anyone, most words vague but still words that meant so much for mick to briefly talk about. and even then, green still looked at him the same way as he used to. there was something reassuring in that gesture.

there was a part of him that felt tired, but beyond simply a need for sleep. he didn’t think he could fall asleep if he wanted to. “i don’t know how you did it,” he said suddenly, straightening a bit in his spot as he adjusted himself. he turned to rest a leg up on the couch so he could turn to face the other man, an arm resting across the back of the couch. the anxiety, the fear, everything that man must’ve caused him-- did it burn along with the man’s belongings? did a new sense of hope begin to rise from the ashes? perhaps mick would never know; but he wanted to. “you endured so much from him. more than i think anyone else would’ve.” all to protect his friends. there was something noble about that; there was something about that that said so much about who green was as a person.

“you know,” he started, a certain fondness in those blue depths as he uttered, “i think you’re the strongest person i’ve ever met.” and he meant everything he said. and, it was there in these quiet utterances where most of mick’s grief and self-blame felt almost anguished. it was there, where he felt like he could sit and talk with green for hours, that he didn’t feel like the monster he always cracked himself up to be.