06-23-2020, 03:36 PM
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— mick dreaded the nights. it wasn’t rare to see him putting off acknowledging just how late it was. fix himself a cup of tea, find something to work on absently, with tired eyes and exhausted hands. people often spoke about the mornings. they spoke about the strength and bravery it took to get up and out of their bed each and every day. he didn’t know what could be said about the ones that didn’t want to get in their bed in the first place.
sticking around green’s house all evening and into the later hours of night seemed like a new normal for him. it felt normal to find himself wandering to green’s bedroom with the other man, staying the night there more often than at his own place. as they both retired to bed, tired eyes and quiet murmurs laced with sleep saying goodnight, mick found himself feeling less dreadful of the nights.
when he inevitably woke up, chest tight with panic and fear, uncertain if the nightmares had stopped, unable to discern what was real anymore -- his gaze seemed to instantly be drawn towards green at his side.
he didn’t know what vernon could possibly see in him. the bitter taste of war still lingered on his lips. the scars of battle weaved a tale of tragic heartache and struggle along his skin. mickey serge was the kind of man that survived and endured it all, while many others could not say the same. he lived when he should have died. even then, some nights he found himself looking at his reflection in the mirror and all he could see was a crime scene. he failed to know exactly when all the pieces of himself had died, or where he could possibly go to pick up and revive the fallen, broken pieces.
there was an unexplainable feeling that flooded his senses late at night, when he could turn his head to one side and find he wasn’t lost in his head. alone. that vern was there. mick was a mess of things; no one, not even himself, knew how to put him back together again. and yet, when he pulled green close late at night, burying his face into the other man’s mussed-up hair, he never felt more complete.
most nights were absolutely miserable for mick. he didn’t want green to feel as though he always needed to try and fix such broken and frayed pieces. he didn’t expect him to, either. simply having someone be there with him was all he could ever ask for from green; that was everything he needed. a certain feeling flooded over him on those dreadful nights, holding vernon green so close. an emotion that made the ache in his chest feel that much lighter, lulling tired eyes shut as he felt so at ease.
though they weren’t similar in most ways, vernon filled in all of the missing pieces in mick’s life. every broken, chipped piece of himself felt like it was back together again, and vernon was the glue that so selflessly held him together. he couldn’t say that he heavily depended on vern and needed him in his life - after so long of learning to rely on himself, it was hard for him to be anything but fiercely independent at times - but he could say that green helped make his life one worth living. vernon made this ghost of a man want to live again. and, for the first time in a long, long time, mick wasn’t afraid to say he found his own happiness.
mickey dared to believe that he was in love.
eyes wandered over towards the other man standing nearby. standing in the living room, folding a few blankets with absent hands as the pair tidied up the living room together. his gaze lingered on vern, something soft filling the spaces in once-empty and inexpressive eyes. he turned his gaze away to pick up a couple of the pillows, fluffing them up, getting the dog hair off of them, and rearranging them back on the couch. still, as eyes wandered back towards green again, he couldn’t help but feel his lip twitch. a brief surge of playfulness.
"hey. i think you've got something right-" he gently batted at the man’s side with the pillow. his lips twitched as he stared at green only a moment longer, gauging his reaction momentarily. a certain gleam was so subtle in his eyes as he turned back to his work on the couch, fighting a smile as he quietly said, "never mind." of course not even the simplest, quietest mornings could go by without sprinkling in a little bit of fun here and there.
these were the mornings that made such miserable nights feel worth it.
— mick dreaded the nights. it wasn’t rare to see him putting off acknowledging just how late it was. fix himself a cup of tea, find something to work on absently, with tired eyes and exhausted hands. people often spoke about the mornings. they spoke about the strength and bravery it took to get up and out of their bed each and every day. he didn’t know what could be said about the ones that didn’t want to get in their bed in the first place.
sticking around green’s house all evening and into the later hours of night seemed like a new normal for him. it felt normal to find himself wandering to green’s bedroom with the other man, staying the night there more often than at his own place. as they both retired to bed, tired eyes and quiet murmurs laced with sleep saying goodnight, mick found himself feeling less dreadful of the nights.
when he inevitably woke up, chest tight with panic and fear, uncertain if the nightmares had stopped, unable to discern what was real anymore -- his gaze seemed to instantly be drawn towards green at his side.
he didn’t know what vernon could possibly see in him. the bitter taste of war still lingered on his lips. the scars of battle weaved a tale of tragic heartache and struggle along his skin. mickey serge was the kind of man that survived and endured it all, while many others could not say the same. he lived when he should have died. even then, some nights he found himself looking at his reflection in the mirror and all he could see was a crime scene. he failed to know exactly when all the pieces of himself had died, or where he could possibly go to pick up and revive the fallen, broken pieces.
there was an unexplainable feeling that flooded his senses late at night, when he could turn his head to one side and find he wasn’t lost in his head. alone. that vern was there. mick was a mess of things; no one, not even himself, knew how to put him back together again. and yet, when he pulled green close late at night, burying his face into the other man’s mussed-up hair, he never felt more complete.
most nights were absolutely miserable for mick. he didn’t want green to feel as though he always needed to try and fix such broken and frayed pieces. he didn’t expect him to, either. simply having someone be there with him was all he could ever ask for from green; that was everything he needed. a certain feeling flooded over him on those dreadful nights, holding vernon green so close. an emotion that made the ache in his chest feel that much lighter, lulling tired eyes shut as he felt so at ease.
though they weren’t similar in most ways, vernon filled in all of the missing pieces in mick’s life. every broken, chipped piece of himself felt like it was back together again, and vernon was the glue that so selflessly held him together. he couldn’t say that he heavily depended on vern and needed him in his life - after so long of learning to rely on himself, it was hard for him to be anything but fiercely independent at times - but he could say that green helped make his life one worth living. vernon made this ghost of a man want to live again. and, for the first time in a long, long time, mick wasn’t afraid to say he found his own happiness.
mickey dared to believe that he was in love.
eyes wandered over towards the other man standing nearby. standing in the living room, folding a few blankets with absent hands as the pair tidied up the living room together. his gaze lingered on vern, something soft filling the spaces in once-empty and inexpressive eyes. he turned his gaze away to pick up a couple of the pillows, fluffing them up, getting the dog hair off of them, and rearranging them back on the couch. still, as eyes wandered back towards green again, he couldn’t help but feel his lip twitch. a brief surge of playfulness.
"hey. i think you've got something right-" he gently batted at the man’s side with the pillow. his lips twitched as he stared at green only a moment longer, gauging his reaction momentarily. a certain gleam was so subtle in his eyes as he turned back to his work on the couch, fighting a smile as he quietly said, "never mind." of course not even the simplest, quietest mornings could go by without sprinkling in a little bit of fun here and there.
these were the mornings that made such miserable nights feel worth it.