Mid-November 2016
“Does he even have a driver’s license?”
At some point in time the casual conversation between himself and Peter about normal things like school and fighting (“researching”) monsters turned into a personal attack on Michael and his lack of relationship experience.
If anyone asked him (no one had) he would say it was entirely inappropriate for his fifteen-(almost sixteen)-year-old brother to lecture him on his apparent inability to maintain a healthy relationship, especially since that same almost-sixteen-year-old brother was, one, still fifteen, and two, sixteen (technically fifteen) years younger than him, and three, had never been in a relationship either.
“Of course he has a driver’s license.”
Michael had no idea if Caspian had a driver’s license.
“What does it matter if he has a driver’s license or not? You don’t have a driver’s license.”
Peter froze from where he was sitting at the coffee table, hunched over his book of monster drawings or whatever it was he was trying to do, and looked up at Michael as if he’d suddenly grown another head.
“You just said you were going to buy him a car, that’s why it matters.”
“So??”
Michael happened to think that he was very mature and Peter just happened to know how to push his buttons to get him to revert (in Peter's words) to throwing a tantrum when he didn’t get his way. It had nothing to do with the fact that his boyfriend was ten years younger than himself, nor did it have to do with the fact that he was realizing more and more each day just how little he knew about Caspian.
Oh sure, he knew enough to know that he was stupidly head over heels for him. That somehow Caspian’s playful, charming nature drew him in, and his sincerity and kind heart made it impossible for Michael to even think about a life without him.
But small things that he should probably know by now kept popping up and unsettling him in ways he didn’t expect. Little things like whether or not Caspian had a driver’s license, or even his shoe size (because apparently “small” didn’t count as a shoe size).
“Seriously? You’re really going to buy him a car?”
“Maybe!”
“Is that because you can’t think of anything else, so you’re going to throw money at him and hope it makes him happy?”
Now it was Michael’s turn to stare, completely speechless and incredibly irritated with his brother, because that was a low blow, and he was sure that Peter knew it. He’d always known Peter was a little s**t, but as he continued to grow and mature, Peter was not only becoming, if at all possible, even more sassy than before, but tended to hit nerves that Michael really didn’t appreciate being hit.
Probably because everything Peter said hinted on truth that Michael didn’t want to acknowledge.
“That’s not - !”
“It is too! It’s the lazy way out and you know it, Michael.”
“You’re just angry that mom and dad won’t get you a Tesla.”
“Ugh, I want one so bad, but don’t you dare try to change the subject. Just admit that you’re only thinking about getting him a car because it’s easy and you think that buying the biggest, most expensive thing will make up for the fact that you haven’t thought about what he’d really like.”
“Just because I can get him a car doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about what he’d like!”
Michael had no idea what Caspian would really like.
Once more, Peter gave Michael a look that clearly said he didn’t believe him. Michael could feel heat from frustration and embarrassment rising in his face. He had every right to be angry about such an insinuation since he definitely did not throw his money around.
Except for his fancy Jaguar, but that was to spite his grandmother.
And the fact that he owned a motorcycle and sailboat (a gift) and a house (not technically his) with all updated appliances and electronics.
And his tailored clothes and Italian leather shoes and expensive watches...
Okay, so maybe he did throw his money around, but he wasn’t about to admit that out loud.
“What color?” Peter then asked, and while Michael immediately opened his mouth to answer, he found himself hesitating. He blamed it on being caught off guard by a stupid question.
“Blue,” he said after a fraction of a second pause.
“What color blue?”
“Wha- dark blue.”
“Is that his favorite color?”
“He likes all colors.”
Michael had no idea what his favorite color was.
“That’s not what I asked. Everyone has a favorite color.”
“I don’t,” Michael snapped, growing more irritated with the fact that he was being questioned on what he knew about his boyfriend. And he tried to ignore the nagging voice in the back of his head telling him that the reason why he was so annoyed was because he really didn’t know.
He knew he rarely asked Caspian things about himself, and often only indulged him with twenty questions when Caspian was the one to initiate it. Did that make him a bad boyfriend?
It wasn’t that he didn’t care! He did care. He happened to care a lot.
Which was why it was so frustrating that these little things that shouldn’t be so important seemed really important because they were so stupidly insignificant.
“You mean it’s not the color of Caspian’s eyes?” Peter mocked, and Michael responded by pulling the pillow from beside him on the couch and hurled it at Peter, who let out a squawk of surprise as he shielded his notebook of sketches and “research” on youma.
“What’s your deal, Peter? Is it because you don’t like him? Is that it? Or is it just me you don’t like?”
“That’s rude,” Peter responded with a frustrated frown, showing impressive restraint in not taking the pillow and throwing it back at Michael, who had crossed his arms over his chest and slumped miserably down onto the couch, but was still obviously annoyed so it just made it look like he was pouting (“throwing a tantrum”).
“I think you take him for granted,” Peter said after a few moments of silence (save for Michael’s muttering under his breath about Peter being a little brat), which only made Michael let out a humorless, disbelieving laugh.
“You and Chris are exactly the same, Michael. You have people who take care of you and accept you for who you are, and put up with your bullshit. And then you turn around and do something completely shitty, like thinking about buying Caspian a car -”
“What the hell’s wrong with a car??”
“- when you don’t even know if he wants one or has any use for one, or Chris moping over baseball when Paris just wants to spend time with him and the twins. But he doesn’t even think about how worried she is about him -”
“You don’t know that.”
“- and I wouldn’t be surprised if she wondered if he still loved her the same way after he lost his memories.”
He couldn’t bring himself to look up at Peter. He didn’t know when his kid brother grew up so much, but it both made him proud and upset him at the same time, if only because Peter growing up meant that he’d experienced too much at a young age.
“And you,” Peter continued, because naturally he would return to his cruel attack on his oldest brother, “You focus on how shitty your life has been and don’t see how hard Caspian is working to help you to feel comfortable about yourself.”
Michael allowed himself to finally look in Peter’s direction, a little startled by the sharpness in his youngest brother’s eyes.
“So, to answer your question; my deal is that you are manipulative and controlling -”
“What? Am not!” Michael scoffed (he knew he was), but Peter continued without a pause.
“ - which I get is probably a defense mechanism, fine whatever. But I’ve been living with you for over two years now because I was pretty confident that you would try to disappear the second you got your hands on your trust fund -”
Michael let out another incredulous noise (that actually had been the plan), but Peter didn’t bat an eye.
“- or do something stupid because you’ve been through traumatic experiences and pretty bad depression, and you still refuse to talk to someone about it.”
There was nothing he could think to say in response to deny that, so Michael just glanced away again to scowl at the table lamp.
“And no matter what I’ve tried, you very rarely opened up to me,” Peter went on, but although he kept raising his voice every time Michael started to interrupt, Michael could definitely hear the distressed sincerity in each word his youngest brother said.
“But you’ve opened up to Caspian. And that’s great, but you still need help, Michael. And Caspian is going to get worn down if you don’t help yourself. No matter how much they want to, or how hard they try, Caspian and Paris can’t shoulder all of your’s and Chris’s burdens and self loathing and inability to think of anyone but yourselves.”
He hated that he couldn’t respond. Probably because he knew Peter was right. Which meant that Peter knew he was right. Which only gave that brat more fuel for the fire.
But yes, their father had tried to get him to see someone soon after leaving the military, but Michael had refused. He dealt with his trauma and depression on his own, in his own way, because he was stubborn and proud and couldn’t let anyone see him falter more than he already had.
“Do you know why Caspian probably has so many nightmares now? It’s because he loves you. Really loves you. Like, to the point where it’s gross. And I’m not just talking about how you guys eat each other’s faces every time you're in the same room. He probably has nightmares of you dying all the time after seeing your starseed taken out, and that’s terrifying because he probably thinks you're the best thing since sliced bread and indoor plumbing.”
An exasperated breath escaped as Michael shook his head. “I love him too, Peter. I -”
“Then act like it,” Peter interrupted before he could have time to think up an excuse, and Michael was completely at a loss for words (again) because he wasn't entirely sure how to act like he loved Caspian more than he already did.
“Don't treat him like he's just a show piece -”
“What?? I do not -”
“- You do, Michael! You get dressed up and go out to fancy places and then whenever he starts talking to you about important things, you do everything you can to avoid it. Don't pretend like you don't. I can hear everything, unfortunately,” he finished with a shuddered cringe. “Your relationship with him only works for you when it's a convenience. Typical millennial mentality -”
“Excuse me??”
“- you and Chris are just setting yourselves up to self destruct and you’ll be taking Caspian and Paris down with you.”
“That’s absolutely ridiculous -”
“It’s not!” Peter snapped, his voice raised as he spoke over Michael again, this time hitting the table with the side of his fist in frustration because apparently he didn’t like the fact that Michael kept trying to cut into every crazy thing he said.
“Believe it or not, Michael, Caspian isn’t the only person who cares about you. He’s not the only one who has tried to help you out of whatever slump you get yourself into. You know why Nana is such a jerk to you?”
“Because she’s a b-”
“- It’s probably because she sees herself in you and knows how stubborn you are and the only way to get you to do something is to be hard on you.”
Michael scowled, stubbornly not wanting to believe anything Peter was saying even though he had a feeling his brother knew more about these things than he did. Which was stupid and made no sense because he was thirty-one years old and Peter was only fifteen and shouldn’t have the life experiences to be able to say the stuff he was saying.
“You’re doing a lot of assuming for people,” Michael pointed out as he continued to scowl.
“Well, you’re too focused on yourself to see these things,” Peter simply shrugged.
For several moments Michael waited to see if Peter would continue to go over how much of a horrible person he was, but it seemed as though Peter had said everything he wanted to say for the time being. Michael pursed his lips together, his eyebrows knit tight in frustration -
When suddenly his phone vibrated.
He knew Peter heard it vibrate too, because his beady little eyes narrowed just a fraction of an inch, which only prompted Michael to stubbornly resist reaching into his pocket to pull it out, despite the way his fingers tightened against his arms that were still crossed over each other.
“You might as well look,” Peter rolled his eyes dramatically.
Michael clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth and uncrossed his arms to pull his phone out of his pocket to glance at the message from Caspian, unable to stop the way his lips twitched into a tiny smile. But he could feel the guilt festering from everything Peter had pointed out, and he sent back a quick response and stuck his phone back in his pocket, frowning once more in Peter’s direction.
“So I shouldn’t get him a car…”
“No, by all means, get him a car -”
“What??”
“- but you could do better. I mean, if you managed to think of painting your nails for him… I’m sure you can figure something out. I bet gestures like that to him are better than a car,” Peter said, and then after a pause added, “But seriously, tell mom and dad I really really want a Tesla.”
Michael let out a sigh as he tilted his head back to stare up at the ceiling, wishing he wasn’t as bad at this as he apparently was. Caspian rarely complained about anything he did, so he wasn’t sure what was good or what was actually bad, but he was sure the reason Caspian didn’t complain was because he still didn’t want Michael to change his mind and leave him. Which would never happen, but Michael understood because he felt the same way about Caspian finding someone better than himself.
He lifted one of his hands to look at his burgundy colored nails, as if that would suddenly give him a better idea, but eventually lowered it onto the couch to give up.
“It’s no wonder Chris moved out of mom and dad’s house,” Michael eventually said and Peter looked up in confusion. “You were probably an a*****e to him too,” he continued, allowing the corner of his mouth to twitch up into a smile as Peter let out a sarcastic “ha ha”.
“Well, just don’t ******** up. I like him. He’s good for you,” Peter grumbled, and Michael thought he saw his face flush ever so slightly.
The smile on Michael’s lips widened a little more, a strange feeling filling his chest. It was warm and light and made him wonder just what the hell he’d done to have people like Caspian and Peter and Marissa and Paris and Chris and his parents look out for him the way they did.
Part of him still didn’t think he deserved any of their patience and understanding, especially Caspian’s, but he knew he would be lost without all of them in his life.
“Thank you, Peter.”
