“Not for you,” Mike says quickly. “For me. It’ll make me feel better.”
Sean’s fighting a smile. “For you, huh?”
Mike nods.
“Lord knows I’d do anything for you,” Sean says, and Mike rubs the back of his neck, scuffing his Chucks on the sidewalk. “Not going to be the best company.”
“So no difference, then.”
Sean chokes on a little bur
st of laughter. “Ow, goddammit, stop making me laugh, it hurts.”
“Sorry, sorry. Let’s get you home, yeah?”
He’s got his just-for-Mike smile growing on his face. “Yeah,” he says.
Mike leads the way.
HE’S NO stranger to the inside of Sean’s little bungalow, though it’s nothing salacious. Because before they were this thing they are now, they were building up to it, slowly but surely, and that meant they were friends first and foremost. Sean doesn’t have many of those, really, and neither does Mike, aside from his poker-night guys. No one that they feel comfortable with, aside from each other.
He’s not a loner, not by nature, but he doesn’t mind being alone. And he thinks Sean is the same way, because Sean isn’t ever really unhappy, not that Mike can see. Sure, he can’t be happy all the time, but Mike thinks he’d notice if something was wrong.
Like it is right now. Because Sean’s a little paler than he was at the diner. His mouth is set in a thin, bloodless line, and he’s squinting at the setting sun, even though it’s setting in the west and they’re walking north. Sean’s arm is through his and curled up, his hand gripping Mike’s bicep. He’s not leaning against Mike, but they are close together.
Mike’s trying not to rush them, because he doesn’t want to make things worse for Sean. He’s not pleased that Sean let it get this far, but there’s no point in saying so. Mike knows to pick and choose his battles, and this would be a pointless one. The best thing to do is to get him home, get him his meds, and get him in a dark room.
“I’ll be fine,” Sean grunts suddenly.
“I know,” Mike says lightly.
“You don’t. Even though you don’t say it, you don’t know that.”
Fair point. Mike thinks to argue, but it wouldn’t do anything. “I worry.”
“I know you do.”
“And that’s not going to stop.”
Sean huffs a little laugh. “I know it won’t.”
“In fact, it might even get a little worse.”
“Because of us.”
Mike shrugs.
“I don’t need to be coddled.”
“I do. Sometimes.”
Sean sighs. “You don’t fight fair, Mike Frazier.”
“I didn’t even know we were fighting.”
“Cheeky man,” Sean says, and Mike thinks maybe he looks a little better.
THE FIRST time Mike went inside Sean’s house was a few days after the confession on the docks, when Mike could no longer argue against them working toward something together. He still hadn’t quite gotten over the sight of James Cooper escorting Sean through the park, some dark little part of him urging him to knock the ever-living daylights out of young Mr. Cooper for having the audacity to do what Mike could not.