Sean’s eyes roll back up into his head, his body tensing like he’s being electrocuted.
“No!” Mike cries. “Goddammit, no!”
He’s able to catch Sean before he hits the ground. It’s close, but he won’t ever hurt Sean more than he already has.
It takes almost an hour for Sean to wake up, shorter than the time before, but it still feels like an age. Mike sits with Sean cradled to his chest, face buried in his hair, rocking them back and forth.
And this time, when he wakes, his migraine has returned worse than ever.
“Hey,” he croaks when he opens his eyes. “Oh damn. Oh shit, that hurts. Mike, oh Mike, my head, it hurts.”
“I know,” Mike says. “I know, and I’m sorry.”
IT’S POKER night with the boys.
Sean’s at home, still recovering from the day before. He’s on the mend, almost back to his usual self. He says he just needs one more night of good sleep, and he’ll be right as rain, bet your fur. “Can’t be sick for the Harvest Festival,” he says, eyes sparkling. “Got a date with a handsome man.”
And because Mike needs this, needs to give him this, he plays along. “Yeah? Someone I know?”
“Maybe,” Sean says coyly, and it’s sweet and tears his heart to little pieces. “He’s big. And strong. And his eyes.” He sighs. “Dreamy.”
Mike snorts. “Don’t know that I can compete. Sounds like quite the catch.”
The just-for-Mike smile flashes, quick and radiant. “He is.” He leans in and brushes his lips against Mike’s. He feels it all the way down to his toes. “See you in the morning, big guy?”
“Yeah,” Mike says.
“Yeah,” Sean says with a little laugh. “Have fun with the boys.” Mike stares after him for a moment too long, even after the door is closed.
And here he is, feeling ridiculous that he’s sitting in Happy’s house around the kitchen table, cards in his hand, a Falstaff sweating at his elbow. Happy and Donald and Calvin are bickering around him and he’s thinking, This is all there is. This is all that I have. And it’s enough. It can be enough. It’s been enough. And it still will be.
“Mike.”
He looks up. The others are staring at him. “What?” he says, trying not to sound defensive.
“You all there, buddy?” Calvin asks.
“Yeah,” Mike says. “I’m here.”
He thinks, Are you?
“He’s daydreaming,” Donald snorts, elbowing Calvin. “Thinking about Sean.”
They all sigh and flutter their eyes at him.
He blushes furiously. It’s his curse.
They laugh at him, and he laughs with them, and thinks, Yeah, this can be enough. You might not be real, or I might not be real, or I might just be crazy, but this is enough. This is enough. This is—
There’s a knock at the door.
“Huh,” Happy says. “Didn’t think he’d show.” He pushes himself up from the table with a grunt and moves toward the door.
“Who is it?” Mike asks Calvin and Donald.
Calvin shrugs. “Probably Walter.”
Donald says, “You gonna look sharp for the Harvest Festival?”