a m o n g • the children. [mickey]

[AVERY JUNNOSUKE KAEL]

"And~ we're all finished!"

Another day at the medical wing, another patient, another wonderful day. He'd just finished patching up an Earth when his shift was finally over. Not that he had anything against his job, but that just meant it was time for his usual walk through Maple Hollow to get his well deserved ice cream. And...Avery's just been distracted lately, is all. Even some of his not-so-frequent patients noticed the small change in the nurse, but he didn't think it was all that bad until Avery accidentally ended up putting too many band aids on an unsuspecting Thunder who only had a paper cut. Let's just say there has been cases worst than that. And even now, as he thought about this, Avery was absentmindedly unraveling a roll of gauze.

...stupid distractions. The nurse sighed, tossing it aside for tomorrow to worry about. He had a lot on his mind, and knowing him when he got distracted, Avery would end up rolling the gauze around himself then tripping when he finally realized what he had done. Pulling off his white coat, Avery made his way over to the corner of his office, where he kept some of his off-work clothes folded. He didn't like going out in public wearing his lab coat, knowing he'd receive stares due to the oddness of it. The nurse was told more than once he didn't look like a doctor--either he looked too young, too unreliable, or just like a kid playing dress-up with his father's clothes. And because of Avery's wandering habits after work, it was a necessity for him to change, even if the clothes still smelled like antiseptic. He was just going to get some ice cream--maybe stop by the park and sit there for a while. Anything was better than going back to his empty apartment.

And so Avery set off, his fingers curling around the sleeves of his too-big-sweater as he took off in the spring weather--but everything just felt too distant. Every time he'd look up at the sky, his eyes would glaze over. Or whenever he took a deep breath, it felt short, unappreciative. As if he had smelled the after smell of rain and blooming flowers all his life. And this was so unlike Avery.

He reached the ice cream parlour after about fifteen minutes--though it seemed shorter, like he wasn't aware of the time. Like he wanted the day to just pass him by, when in reality he wanted it to stop so he could smell the roses along the way. Avery sat down at a table outside of the shop, the one with those big umbrellas that blocked out pretty much everything. He never really liked them; he preferred to sit on the sidewalk, where everyday passed him on by without a care in the world, because Avery was a people person.

But not today. He was far too distracted and would probably end up wandering around in the middle of the street for all he knew. And so he absentmindedly licked at his ice cream cone, his eyes blankly looking in front of him as he did so. And when the spring wind gently caressed the nurse's face, his mind wandered back a few days to the day where he faced his past.

Mickey. Avery sighed as he thought of the Wind. That day was literally the trigger for all this--the distractions, the confusion, the anxiety; and although he liked to think he knew the reason why, but he just...didn't. At all. And that frustrated the nurse to no end. He remembered feeling flustered--a hard thing to achieve with a guy like Avery. And he remembered feeling this huge wall between the two that separated them, and something about Mickey...Avery just couldn't put his finger on it. It was an uneasy, unfamiliar feeling, and the events that followed after made blood rush to Avery's cheeks--another amazing feat.

Subconsciously, Avery wrapped his arm around his waist just as the Wind had done when he saved him from tripping. It was a warm feeling, yet still unfamiliar. And the way that they were so close--it was almost like it was a natural thing to do. Even Avery, the epitome of affection and touchy-feeliness, wasn't prepared for it.

“Fine. Dinner.”

It was a simple offer, yet it somehow held some value for Avery, even after all these years. And an unfamiliar Mickey to top it all off.

Like a cherry.

[MICHAELANGELO DONATELLO GRACE]

While his mind wandered back to the doctor throughout the days that followed his visit, he didn’t let his thoughts interfere with his already spotty and disorganized lessons. He couldn’t afford to do something like that. He needed to focus. Big time. Too bad focusing was one of the several things he just plain old sucked at. He blamed the schizophrenia. His focus had been a hundred times better before the voices had started, before his whole attitude seemed to change. He recognized that he’d been different before, but he had no desire to return to that. The focus was, however, among the few things he did miss about himself. Too bad it was also one of those things he could say nothing for. Or do anything about. He frowned at the thought, chewing on the end of his pencil as he stood in front of th window, his lesson plan plastered up against the glass. He was bouncing in place. He’d discovered long ago that this worked when he was trying to get something down but couldn’t sit anymore, though usually he was chewing on cigarettes rather than on writing materials. He marked off a few more days with possible topics. “Possible” because he rarely ended up talking about the things he actually wanted to talk about. He talked about things he planned three days early and then had to remember to go back to the actual topic about a week later. But hey, his students seemed to do fine most of the time. He had no clue if they got help or if he was actually okay to understand, but he was always open to questions (on a good day).

His students, he’d found, learned how to read him as they studied with him. The first few weeks were rough. They usually filtered out a few students who couldn’t someone like him teaching classes, with his erratic moods and crazy behavior and inconsistent lecturing. He liked to call the ones who wouldn’t stick around “wimps” and the ones who managed to hold out “champs” simply because they had won out over the others. After that initial testing period, however, the questions started to filter in on the good days, and the bad days had questions mostly because someone desperately needed an answer or had read him wrong. He didn’t know what tells he had about stuff like that. He didn’t know how they took into account whether to ask him questions or avoid doing so, but he was pretty sure he was easier to read than he liked to think. He could be pretty on top of his emotions, but it was honestly only the voices he tried to prevent people form understanding. His students usually never found out about the voices. It was a secret he kept close to his hear. No one had to know Professor Grace was crazy.

Of course, there was one person who knew for sure.

Giving up on the lesson plan, he pulled out his cigarettes and started on a walk. He lit up. The few times he’d let his mind wander back to the doctor, he’d always ended up craving a cigarette for one reason or another, so he might as well stay one step ahead of the game. The nicotine filled his senses and kept him calm. Inhaling it felt so good, even if it was so bad for him. It made him feel better, because he honestly had no clue how he was supposed to feel about his little reunion with the doctor who knew too much. He still had the pills. He’d shoved the little white bag into a drawer of his desk when he’d gotten back to his classroom. The other pill bottle had gone straight in with them. Frowning, he blew the smokes from his lips as he walked, letting his feet carry him into town, letting them lead the way. While he didn’t necessarily want to talk to a stranger, he was fine with having them around, milling about and talking to each other like their conversations about the weather and secret military operations really mattered to the rest of the world. The world didn’t care because it didn’t know. Who cared about something they had no clue about anyway?

Michaelangelo tried not to. Sure, sometimes his paranoia won out and he ended up thinking of convoluted ways for the government to control them, ways that made him want to turn off his phone and throw into Niagara Falls, but that was usually temporary. The government wouldn’t sue cell phones to track people. They implanted computer chips into people during surgery and blood taking and stuff like that.

And his mind was drawn back to the doctor. He really needed to confront the moments that had happened in the medical wing. He needed to think about what had happened, what hadn’t happened, and the consequences. If his brain could focus on it long enough without taking a break that would inevitably circle back to it. He didn’t know why it kept doing that, though it was probably because he hadn’t confronted what was going on in his head and he really needed to. Elsa had been telling him to, and usually he listened to her, but on this… on this, he’d been beating around doing it because he didn’t want to do it. He didn’t want to think about it. In an attempt to do exactly that, he looked around, taking into account where he’d managed to find himself. The ice cream parlor? What the hell was he doing here? He wasn’t a huge fan of ice cream. Sure, he ate it every once in a while, but he wasn’t the sort to go looking for it. Besides, ice cream parlors were usually expensive.

Why did it bug him that Avery hadn’t called him yet about the dinner he promised? He’d said anywhere. Hell, he’d even take the guy out for lobster and escargot if he wanted, just to follow up on his word. He shook his head, but of course the motion drew his attention to one of umbrella-covered tables, and he noticed someone he was pretty sure he recognized even from behind. “Speak of the devil…” Technically, he hadn’t been speaking, but he’d sure been doing a lot of thinking. He rounded a little bit, caught sight of the familiar face, and made his way closer. On the way, he disposed of the cigarette. How best to approach?

His cigarette had calmed him down significantly, even put him into a mood that allowed for amusement. He could tease. He could grin. In fact, maybe he could do a bit of scaring. He was curious how the man would react anyway. They’d be the same age now, right? Avery had been a year behind him in school, if he remembered correctly, but they’d been in different elements and he’d stopped caring after a year or two of protecting him because… well, because of his issue. He hadn’t been scary then. Technically, he had no intention to be properly scary now. He just wanted to do a bit of sudden jumping out of the bushes and surprising someone, though there weren’t any huge masses of leaves behind the doctor. Unfortunate. That would certainly have made for an amusing picture. As he came up behind him, though, the idea formed soundly in his head. Keeping his breathing even and hopefully not noticeable, he leaned down a bit, sliding his cheek forward so it was close, but not close enough to touch his hair in case that would arouse his attention. He bit his lip, trying not to laugh. What should he say? Boo? Hi? Maybe comment on the menu. He wanted to say something witty, to be honest, but he stuck for saying something simple, whispering it so only Avery could hear: “Do you always get ice cream after a hard day’s work or was today just a bad day?” Who knew, maybe Avery ate ice cream like he smoked cigarettes.

[AVERY JUNNOSUKE KAEL]

When Avery was distracted, he was distracted. Like, majorly. To the point where he was a danger to himself if he didn't snap out of it. On one occasion Avery ended up walking through Maple Hollow for hours--way past the sunset, and into the night where most of the dangers seemed to take place. As if that wasn't bad enough, he managed to disregard about five pedestrian lights and just walked--even when horns were honked and people managed to get him out of the way of ongoing traffic. But even that didn't phase him, because when Avery's thought process managed to take hold of his mind, it was like being controlled like a robot. No awareness, no feelings, just looking straight ahead as each thought consumed him.

It hasn't been this bad since, hell, after he graduated high school from the Academy. After finally escaping the bullying and torment, Avery was able to think about the future ahead of him and how scary and foreign it all was--when he was still a high school student, all he thought about was the next cigarette he would smoke, or when he'd get his hands on the alcohol that helped him numb everything and just escape the pain temporarily. Because at that time, he still lived wit his mother who really didn't care what her son was up to. Ever since Avery's dad left, his mother refused to even look at the nurse due to the striking resemblance to her once beloved husband--the eyes, the smile, the exact same height...once glance and she'd mistake Avery for his father. It was agonizing, not having his mother look at him. And he's lived this way for over a decade. Hell, the last time he saw his mother...was over five years ago. Since he graduated college.

Wow. That was a long time.

Perhaps not as long as the time he and Mickey hadn't seen each other. But that in itself wasn't as painful, not even close. When Mickey left Avery unprotected in his last few years at the Academy, he was just...numb. Used to it. The Wind wasn't the first person to leave him, and Avery quickly dove right back into his only source of comfort--alcohol, even if it sufficed as just temporary. Nothing was better than having it all blur out of his mind, being a completely new person when things didn't matter when he was drunk, and the escape...the escape was always the best part. Maybe that's why Avery allowed his distractions take over his mind--it acted as a safer alternative to alcohol. As stupid as that sounded.

Avery bit down on his sugar cone, the crunch briefly pulling himself out of his thoughts. Only until then did he realize how much of his ice cream had actually melted as he was distracted. He blinked blankly down at it, his lips forming into a thin line, before tilting his head back slightly for the cold liquid to slide down his throat.

Of course, that seemed to be a bad idea.

Another thing to know about Avery: startling or scaring him in any form or way was a bad idea. Even if it was unintentional. Just...expect things being thrown, falling out of chairs, or an unmanly squeak to emit from his lips. Oh, and a very panicked Avery who would probably have to take more than a few breaths to calm down. It was just all--the nurse had a weak heart, and so when the voice crept out of no where, things were definitely thrown, he definitely fell out of his chair, and a totally unmanly squeak was emitted from his lips.

Avery stared blankly at his smashed ice cream cone on the floor next to him, before slowly bringing his gaze up at the bastard who scared the living hell out of him. Granted, he was easily scared, but that wasn't the point. And so Avery sat there, no words or reply, just sat there, as his lips slowly turned into a pout. It kind of resembled a little kid who had gotten his toy taken away and was on the verge of crying with his lips trembling. Yup, it looked just like that. But Avery didn't cry. He was too manly for that.

But not manly enough, he thought, as he replayed the squeak he let out just a few moments ago.

Avery looked at Mickey, his eyes slightly obscured by the sunlight right behind the Wind, and tilted his head, finally answering the question that scared the crap out of him. "I always get ice cream. But I guess today can be considered a hard day, too~" he said, his tone slightly childish. He couldn't help it, though. His ice cream!

[MICHAELANGELO DONATELLO GRACE]

When he’d first been diagnosed, he’d done a little research on what was wrong with him. The information, which he’d thereafter discussed with Dr. Jellycut, had not been good news. People with schizophrenia were some percentage more likely to commit suicide. They were more likely to self-medicate, which explained why he stuck to his cigarettes even though he knew they were terrible and why he didn’t go near alcohol. He felt like alcohol was more of a ruin for his life than cigarettes would ever be. Cigarettes were safer. Sure, he could get cancer from them, but that wasn’t a guarantee. With alcohol, you could kill others as well as yourself if you stepped into a car drunk. Alcohol was more expensive, especially the good kind. So he avoided alcohol altogether. He had never tried it, and promised himself he never would. He had promised Dr. Jellycut. Had her accident been a drunk driver? God, that was almost worse.

At least he didn’t drive. Any possible alcoholism would be a hundred times more dangerous if he was a driver. And he wasn’t a driver. He had no intentions of ever driving again, because it tended to put people’s lives at risk. He didn’t drive. God no. He avoided driving when he could. He didn’t even own a car. He had very little interest in cars, when he was being completely and totally honest. He didn’t give a shit about engineering. Sure, he liked fiddling with things, but he was more interested in breaking things than putting them back together. Give him a baseball bat and he’d break a windshield. Give him a wrench and an engine and he’d rather toss out the wrench to go do something else. He didn’t give a shit about the way cars worked. He felt they were probably rather unreliable. They didn’t feel natural in his hands anyway. They felt wrong. That was why he didn’t drive. He wasn’t good at it, but he also didn’t like the way driving felt. It felt awkward and kind of disgusting and just… not nice. It was like sniffing year-old milk. Just the thought made him sick to his stomach.

Sure, that could have been related to his two car accidents and to the fact that his therapist had died in one. It might have been a part of the fact that his knee like to periodically lock up on him, and this could sometimes be rather painful. It could be related to the fear he’d felt when he’d almost killed his sister in the car accident. He remembered the instance so clearly. Broken glass. Someone honking faintly in the distance. Sirens. Flashing lights. Pain. Blood. Too much blood. So much blood. He still, occasionally, had nightmares about the color, dripping over the broken glass and along the side of his sister’s face. He remembered the soft moan she’d let out, from pain, because she’d barely been conscious. He remembered being frightened for her sake and wishing to hell, God, and whatever was out there that she would be okay. She had been okay. He hadn’t killed her. But he would still never drive again. Never. What if she was in the car the next time he crashed and something actually happened? He couldn’t do that to her.

But he had absolutely no problem doing something like this to Avery. In fact, he found it very amusing—perhaps more so than he should—when Avery threw the ice cream so it smashed on the stone floor and fell out of his chair, actually squeaking. He’d never expected a sound like that. Maybe a holler of surprise, but not a squeak. Dear, he sounded so terrified. He cracked a huge grin, straightening up and shoving his hands in his pockets as he watched the other for a minute. Was it sadistic for him to find this amusing? Maybe a little. Maybe it was just that he thought it was incredibly cute, the way Avery had pretty much jumped ten feet in the air. Well, not that high, but still. He’d just surprised him. He hadn’t been particularly frightening in any way or form.

Had he?

He blinked at the thought in surprise. He’d never thought of himself as scary. He didn’t think he was. He was just some normal dude who happened to be a bit insane with some destructive tendencies. He wasn’t even exceptionally tall. He was barely an inch or so taller than Avery, for example. He couldn’t be frightening.

The way Avery was basically pouting at him like some petulant child convinced him he wasn’t actually scary, but that it had been the suddenness of the greeting. He wasn’t going to complain about that either, considering it was perfectly deserved. He had come up behind him with the intention of scaring him, though he hadn’t noticed there was ice cream to be spilled. He wouldn’t have been very happy if someone stole his cigarette straight out of his mouth, after all, though this was a bit different because cigarettes came in packages of twenty or something. He sighed and leaned forward, sliding his hands under Avery’s arms with the intents of helping him up again. “I’ll buy you a new cone. Come on.” He smiled at him sweetly once they were both upright again, considering cleaning up the mess for a moment, then knowing he didn’t really care enough and that there were surely people who got paid to do that. Even if it was his fault. “Why was it a hard day? Just because I scared you?”

[AVERY JUNNOSUKE KAEL]

When Avery's father first left the family, it was a whirl wind of emotions. He was confused, relieved, angry, and just--torn. His father was his father, but he had abused his mother, put emotional strain on the family, and left holes that couldn't be filled. Not even by the many men his mother sought out in a desperate attempt to regain both a husband and father figure for the sake of their family. But somewhere along the way, she lost that goal. Instead it just became a selfish comfort--rather finding someone who would truly love her, she found replicates of her ex-husband's bad side and continued her life that way. In bruises, not even sparing one look at her son who needed the warmth to save himself from falling any further into the darkness. Course, there had been a cloud that briefly cushioned him. But it was just a cloud--it looked like a pillow that would break the fall, when in reality you'd fall right through it. Cold, and frightened. When Avery was in school, he picked up a part-time job to help support him and his mother. He didn't want to do it, had felt no need to do it, but there was that one person who kept him there. The fatherly warmth he so desperately needed was right in front of him, every time he went to work. It was only a few hours at a time, but Avery could feel himself brightening up, the holes slowly shrinking, and the nostalgic comfort of a father enveloping him. But it was only brief protection, a light blinding him from the cruel intentions.

Since then, Avery hasn't been able to open up to people. With the blows from both his father and a temporary father figure, the thought of letting his guard down terrified him, as if he'd be taken advantage of again and be tossed away when they were satisfied. No. Avery wasn't going down that road again, not since he got better and made a promise to himself. He'd been betrayed by so many people in his life that he didn't want to betray himself either, because right now, that's all he had. Don't get him wrong. Avery has plenty of friends ranging from high school students to the faculty members due to his outgoing personality, but he just never felt the need to open up. Not even to Hiro--the fire who had tormented him in his Academy days--who he called his best friend. Avery felt guilty, but that's just how things worked for him. One, two, three...people left his life like it was an easy thing to do. Like Mickey.

Huh. Avery never really thought of it that way. Maybe he just got so used to the disappointment that it didn't phase him really. But that was Avery for you. Never showed anything less than a smile, never let his guard down. Because that's when people started asking questions, and that's the last thing he wanted.

The nurse pouted when Mickey showed amusement towards his...misfortune. Avery understood that it was comical and exaggerated, but he didn't have to laugh at him! But he had to admit for a second he was dazed when Mickey smiled. It dawned on him when he realized this was the first time in a decade that Avery saw the Wind smile. Like, legitimately smile.

Great, another sadist to add onto the faculty member list.

Avery let Mickey help him up, not really having a choice. He could continue sitting there on the floor, but the offer to buy more Avery another ice cream was just too enticing. "Yes! Cookies 'n cream on a sugar cone with chocolate syrup and a cheery on top, please~!" Oh yeah, he was definitely taking advantage of this situation. The faint smell of smoke invaded his senses and his mind was brought back to several days ago and the pack of cigarettes the Wind was holding when they saw each other for the first time in years. Avery tilted his head, the smell so familiar and comforting to him. He hadn't smoked a cigarette in years, and for good reason too. "Tch, don't flatter yourself," he scoffed, but his smirk was ever so present on his face. It was true that his work days were clouded by the thought of the professor making him distracted, but that was it! Avery wasn't about to admit that, no matter how shameless he really was. "Work's just been hard, is all."

Avery stared at his smashed ice cream cone on the ground for a moment, before grabbing a few napkins on the table to help clean up. He felt bad, just leaving it there, and it was only a matter of time until ants arrived. And that would not be good business for the parlour--he was not about to be responsible for that.
"Do you usually go around scaring people like that?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at Mickey playfully. "You're just lucky this ice cream cone didn't land on your head," he said flatly, throwing away his messy napkins in the trash can. "Though I'd have a reason to tell you that you're cute enough to eat~" Ah, Avery. When was he going to learn.

[MICHAELANGELO DONATELLO GRACE]

Was anything in life really permanent? He never thought of it that way. Life wasn’t permanent either. Nothing was. Everything ended at one point or another. His schizophrenia had an end, though it was one that didn’t appeal to him: death. Sure, he could fall into a coma, too, and his schizophrenia couldn’t haunt him there because he wouldn’t be conscious to deal with it. Maybe he’d just have some psychedelic dreams. He didn’t know. He didn’t usually think about it. It was safer that way—not thinking about the bad stuff. Sure, it stopped you from confronting the bad stuff, too, but there was some bad stuff you didn’t really need to confront. You didn’t need to confront a smashed ice cream cone unless you were having series issues with it, like thinking it was God telling you to kill yourself or something. That was the kind of thing he thought was crazy.

And he was back to crazy. He wasn’t sure why he used the word so much even though it bothered him. Maybe it was the kind of thing you just couldn’t escape, because he knew subconsciously he really was crazy and ought to be committed for his own sake as well as that of the general population. He wasn’t a danger to anyone though. Sure, he sometimes considered carrying a knife, but that was for his own protection because he was paranoid someone was going to try something someday. He had no plans to actually use the knife on an innocent bystander. None of the voices were telling him to kill people. Sure, Braedon like to tell him the other thing, where the government was trying to kill him—or that it was at least spying on him—but Braedon had never suggested he murder a police officer because of it. Michaelangelo was not a violent person. He wasn’t truly a sadist because he took no excess pleasure in hurting or humiliating people.

That was why he had never been a bully. In fact, he had protect Avery from bullies. Admittedly, he hadn’t done so for very long before the schizophrenia had grabbed his collar and dragged him off (though an amusing thing to picture for himself, the analogy reminded him too much of being dragged off in a straight-jacket to one he could laugh off very easily). He’d been temporary in that position. Sometimes, now that he had re-met the water, he felt a little guilty about that, but he never thought too much about it because he didn’t see the point. Why feel guilty about that when he didn’t consider it his conscious fault and couldn’t change it anyway? It was probably why he was willing to buy Avery another ice cream cone now, anyway, because he really hadn’t needed to throw the thing when he’d scared him. Surprise did odd things to people.

He’d been surprised when he’d heard Dr. Jellycut had died in a car accident, but the shock from that event hadn’t resulted in an ice cream. The shock from that event had ended in faces he saw, people who didn’t exist but populated the space around him anyway. The shock had sparked delusions Braedon had been very exuberant about, probably more so than would be healthy in a “normal” person. Of course, he’d gotten past it, but still… it was more shocking in some moments than in others. It was the kind of thing that had him freezing while he was doing something, vivid pictures of his own two car accidents flooding his mind. In those pictures, Dr. Jellycut replaced his sister in the car seat, bleeding, but she was silent. Silent from unconsciousness, pale from blood loss, cold from death. It made him nervous. He was never sure whether the images were just fear messing with him or if he was hallucinating again. They seemed so real. That was just the thing about hallucinations, though: they seemed real because they, like anything else, was just an interpretation of information from his brain, neurons firing, chemicals interacting.

But they still seemed so real. As real as the doctor in front of him.

A bit dazed by his thoughts, he reached out and put a hand on Avery’s shoulder to ground himself in reality again. He closed his eyes for a moment, focusing on the fact that there was something solid in his hand even after he wasn’t seeing it anymore, because his hallucinations didn’t work like that. He couldn’t touch the people who talked to him, when he did see their faces. He’d touched Avery before, when he’d helped him up, but he hadn’t been thinking about that. Touch was a comfort, because his hallucinations never let him touch them. Avery did. Avery was not a hallucination. He breathed out in relief and opened his eyes again, smiling at him and waving for him to go first, though he hadn’t expected him to bend and pick up the ice cream cone. You’re a better person than I’ll ever be. Although he wanted to blame his schizophrenia, he knew that had nothing to do with the laziness in that moment. Grabbing napkins and picking up an ice cream cone wasn’t going to kill him, after all. It would make his heart race or anything like that. It wasn’t exercise or hard work, but he hadn’t bothered. Elsa was the only one of the hallucinations that might have. He was letting the other voices get to him.

“In that case, I’ll say you can flatter yourself, because I usually don’t bother,” he teased, grinning at him, playing along. Remain with reality. He hadn’t dealt with the voices so far. He could continue keeping them at bay. He wouldn’t be bored buying ice cream. Hell, he could probably afford to buy himself one, too. He wasn’t too worried about spending a couple of bucks on something sweet every now and then. He just couldn’t afford to make it a habit unless he dropped his cigarettes. The cigarettes would always win out over the ice cream anyway. Good thing he’d had one already. He winked at the other’s suggestion and added, just as playfully, “If the cone had landed on my head, I would have made you wash my hair.” God, that was not an appealing sensation. Feeling the sticky mess on his head, cold running down his neck. He wanted to shudder just at the thought. He was really glad the ice cream hadn’t landed on his head. “But aren’t I always cute?” He pouted at him, then switched back to the grin. A hand went to the other’s head, fingers in his hair, and tried to push forward a little, intending to steer him towards the cafe. “Let’s go. I want ice cream.”

[AVERY JUNNOSUKE KAEL]

Every so often Avery would think of his mother. He remembered in his childhood she was just...there. Merely coexisting, rather than actively participating in her son's life. Not that Avery minded either, because he had his father. The warmth, the smiles, the picture perfect father--but that was all an illusion; an image created to hide all the lies. Once his father starting abusing his mother, it should've been a trigger in Avery's mind that this wasn't supposed to happen, that this wasn't normal for other families. Avery should've been resenting his father with every fiber in his being for hurting the woman who gave birth to him, but he just couldn't. All the tears, hurt, wounds--they all didn't matter. Because his father was his father. Avery still thought so, even with the years piling up between them. Maybe he was naive like that, or he just wanted to believe the best in people, or maybe he just really wanted to think that there was someone out there that cared for him. Because his mother sure as hell didn't.

Sometimes Avery wondered if he was being harsh. Since young, he always favored his father over his mother, but wasn't that natural? To pick a favorite parent? The terms "daddy's little princess" and "momma's boy" sure made it seem like it. In this case it should be "daddy's little...prince? Boy?" It sounded strange and foreign in his mind, but it didn't change the fact that he valued his father, even after he left the family. Avery had made a sheer effort to keep what was left of the family with his mother--or had he? He stopped and thought about this for a while. He could only think about the fights, the yelling...it was as if he took his father's place. Like he was forced to grow up as he looked over his mother and the poor choices she made as a guardian. Finding all the wrong men, thinking she could change them, and blame Avery for all the misfortunes in her life because it was easier to blame other.

Now Avery sounded like a hypocrite. And maybe he was, after replaying all these thoughts in his head. He was no better by blaming his mother. Not speaking to her. Acting as if she didn't exist in his life anymore because he didn't in hers. It was like a never-ending cycle of pent up anger that Avery couldn't shake off. And of all people, right? His mother at least tried to stick around. His father didn't.

A hand on his shoulder shook Avery from his thoughts, a bit startled, though he did not flinch away. He tilted his head, looking curiously at Mickey. The Wind's eyes were closed as if he was trying to regain composure or something--which was strange, because he was fine just a few minutes ago. And so Avery stayed there, gazing at the face that seemed so distant to him, troubled. He suddenly wanted to reach out and caress Mickey's cheek, as to get rid of the worry and discomfort from his face. Avery was the kind of person to wish for everyone's happiness, even if it was for fleeting moments of weakness like this. But that's what always drove him to be the friendly, neighborhood nurse. The weaknesses people showed isn't something to be ashamed of or scared about, or something to be hidden because everyone had them. Avery's eyes lowered for a split second, his mind flashing back to the orange plastic cylinder in Mickey's hands that had held so much truth and revelation in its contents. His eyebrows furrowed, his eyes now slowly reaching the Wind's closed ones as he chewed on his lips. After a moment, hesitantly, Avery reached up to grasp the hand on his shoulder. It was warm, soft. Probably a gesture he should get used to doing, but it just didn't sit well with Avery. He usually read emotions well but here, with Mickey standing in front of him, the lines were blurred. And when Mickey suddenly opened his eyes again, smiling at him, he was almost sure that the fleeting moment of small vulnerability was just all in his head, a figment of his imagination. Almost immediately Avery dropped his hand, his own fleeting moment of vulnerability vanishing into thin air.

Avery rolled his eyes, smirking. "Rather than me flattering myself, I'd rather you flatter me." His smirk quickly turned to his famous cheeky grin moments after. It was easy for Avery to slip into ease in situations similar to these. Some argued it was because the nurse was just shameless like that, but he was convinced it was because he was really friendly. Yup. Let's go with that. Or it could be both. "Hmm. I don't perform special offers to just anybody, y'know~" he teased, taking a small step forward. The closeness reminded him of the day Mickey came to pick up his prescription at his office. The warmth, the breath on his lips, and the way his heart felt like it had lept up to his throat, rendering him unable to speak. But like always, Avery shamelessly eased into the situation, raising his hand to softly brush away Mickey's hair. "But I guess there's always exceptions~" he said breathlessly, his smirk reappearing on his lips before Avery dropped his hand and stepped away. The way Avery became too comfortable with people was alarming. And besides, he was sure this Avery was someone Mickey was unfamiliar with as compared to their Academy days. The nurse just shivered thinking about it, pushing it into the corner of his mind. He did not need to think about that right now. "Oh, of course, Mickey~" Avery cooed. Poking his cheek, the nurse pouted his lips as he tilted his head, humoring the Wind. It was what Avery did best. And the small pout Mickey had given him was adorable.

Avery flailed his arms, feeling like a kitten who had acted out and was being dragged by the neck by his mother cat. "Mickey~" he whined, trying to get out the Wind's grasp and failing horribly. After a moment Avery just gave up, allowing himself to be dragged back into the parlour. Ugh, sometimes it was just better to play along and not resist. A lot of people learned that by spending the day with Avery, with his shameless flirting and overwhelming affection. He rarely understood limits because he himself didn't have any, so sometimes he had to be extra careful not to cross the line for the other party. Once inside though, Avery wiggled out of Mickey's grasp, fixing his hair as he pouted. He was not the slightest obsessed with his hair, but it had been always messy and out of place and if anyone tussled it just a little bit, it looked as if Avery just rolled out of bed without looking in the mirror.

Finally turning his attention towards the array of ice cream, Avery could feel his excitement building up again as he touched the cold glass display of sugary goodness. The workers (who he saw pretty much everyday) turned their attention toward the nurse. He was literally in here just moments ago before Mickey got here (and before his ice cream got smashed to pieces), so it was obvious how confused they were when Avery was back in here with another person. "Another ice cream?" the worker, Ellen--he remembered!--asked, an amused look on her face. Avery nodded his head, smiling widely. He gestured over his shoulder over to Mickey with his thumb, his eyes still fixated on the ice cream. "But this time he's paying~" Ellen raised her eyebrows, looking over his shoulder to where Mickey was standing, then back at Avery. "The usual?" The nurse nodded his head again before looking over his shoulder as well, a cheeky grin on his face. "Make it a triple scoop with chocolate syrup, whip cream, and a cherry on top, please~" And now Avery turned his full body towards Mickey, blinking innocently. "How 'bout you, Mickey?"

[MICHAELANGELO DONATELLO GRACE]

A warm hand grasped his on the other’s shoulder, reaffirming that there was indeed a real person in front of him. The warmth was almost as soothing as the touch itself. He didn’t normally have tactile hallucinations, after all, and just having those two little details confirming that the doctor was real… it helped him. It helped banish a moment of suspicion that maybe he was just making up the nurse’s return into his life, though his initial involvement hadn’t been very large. He’d been someone whom Michaelangelo had protected from bullies for a while before his head had caught up with him. At times over the past couple of days, Braedon had made him wonder if he’d imagine the water back then, too, even before the voices had started, though that seemed unlikely. It had taken a bit of an argument (vocal, because he’d gotten frustrated), but he’d eventually realized that. He didn’t want Avery to be an illusion because he actually sort of liked the guy, though they hardly knew anything about each other and he’d be surprised if he was truly a friend to the other. Nonetheless, the conviction remained with him. I don’t want Avery to be an illusion.

[/color]

Being reminded of it distracted him a little as he watched the other and talked to him. Why was he so sure of that detail? They had barely exchanged two words eleven years ago. When they had chatted, in his office, it had been mostly mundane and awkward. It had been made worse by the incident. He didn’t want to think of the details, because the details still made him blush. Of course, thinking about not thinking about it immediately made him think about it, and his cheeks filled with blood and warmth that had nothing to do with the actual conversation. It had been the closest he’d been to another person that could be mistaken for that kind of thing. “I can flatter you just fine. I just choose not to inflate your ego. You wouldn’t be any fun if you were completely full of yourself.”[/color] He winked at the water, trying to ensure the statement wouldn’t be taken as some sort of insult. The slight smile that had accompanied it froze on his face when the hand came up again and actually touched him, nudging hair away from his expression. The tone and words made it worse. He wasn’t even sure what he was thinking, only that it was a bit unfair of Avery to tease him with something he didn’t understand. It felt like a promise in a different language, a language he didn’t speak.

The poke in his cheek and the pout confused him, jerking him back to the present. The constantly changing expressions were probably good for him anyway, considering that he was bad at focusing and was good at being distracted. He liked distractions, sometimes, because they kept his mind busy. A busy mind was less likely to be bombarded with unwelcome voices (though Elsa’s wasn’t always unwelcome—he just wondered why there was a female voice in his head). He’d learned that over the decade he’d dealt with the voices. It was why Dr. Jellycut had encouraged his video games and his chess playing: they kept his mind busy. They made him think or react quickly so he wouldn’t die a virtual death. The adrenaline rushes could be quite fantastic. There was no adrenaline here. He was just staring at him, trying to figure out what was going through his mind. It was not something he’d ever been good at. Like focused. The slightest thing could be distracting, like the way nurse flailed his arms (reminded him rather of a helicopter’s rotating top) and the locks between his fingers.

Avery had surprisingly soft hair. Michaelangelo did not make it a habit to touch other people’s hair, but he was still surprised by the texture. He wanted to stroke it. He wasn’t sure why, except that it was distracting. Avery also had longer hair than he saw on most men, which was probably why he suddenly found himself so interested in it: it was an anomaly. He wanted not to just grip his scalp and use it to steer him somewhere, but be allowed to stroke it and tangle his fingers in it, pull on it to see if it would hurt (and if so, how hard he had to pull to hurt, though actually hurting Avery wasn’t something that he had any desire to do).

The nurse was certainly milking the situation and everything he could out of Michaelangelo’s offer, which wasn’t necessarily fair (though he earned more than enough for himself, he didn’t like to spend too much money on frivolities), but he probably would have done the same thing in the opposite situation. Of course, the opposite situation wasn’t likely to ever be reversed. He didn’t go out to eat ice cream on a basis nearly as regularly as Avery supposedly went. Maybe if he’d squashed a packet of his cigarettes, Michaelangelo would probably have dragged him to a drug store and insisted he pay for another packet, thereby probably asking for the highest quality cigarettes the store carried, maybe even asking for some nice cigars or something. That would be unfair, too, but something told him Avery would do it, though not necessarily without complaint. The thought made him smile absently, so much so he almost forgot to supply an answer. He blinked at the doctor in mild confusion for a moment, then at the woman preparing his ice cream behind the counter, though she lent an ear in case he had an order to make.

Normally, he would not ask for ice cream. He wasn’t quite so fond of it as the doctor. He could, of course. He could indulge, just once. He pursed his lips, eyes flickering over the selection being offered. Something that wasn’t too sweet. Something refreshing, maybe even tart. Perfect. “A scoop of the lemon sorbet,”[/color] he requested finally, dragging his gaze to meet the worker’s and offering even a small smile. He waited watching as she made the excessive ice cream for his companion, and studied the ingredients. Chocolate syrup. Whipped cream. A cherry. He could enjoy the first two, but the little candy cherries were never his favorites. He generally avoided them when he could, but he wasn’t about to deny Avery when he wanted the sugary treat. He watched the blend of black and white and red as she handed it across the counter in the brown waffle. When the worker provided the total, he tugged his wallet out of his jacket pocket and handed her a few bills, accepting his cone and the receipt in turn.

He slid his tongue over the lemony ice cream, then thanked the worker, tucked the receipt into his wallet and the wallet back into his pocket, and held the door open for Avery, intending for them to leave the shop again. The ice cream in the other’s hand was large enough to make the price worth it, but he still wasn’t too comfortable with the situation. He kept his mouth shut nonetheless, deciding to focus on his own ice cream and enjoy it. After a moment of thoughtfully pressing his closed lips to the ice, he tugged away (unbeknown to him, with some stuck to his lower lip) and asked, “What now? You want to take a walk or something?” He’d been sitting still previously, but Michaelangelo hated sitting still. It was why he didn’t like watching movies. They were too long-winded for him, even if you were at home and could pause them to get up and do something. It just wasn’t attractive to him. Why watch a movie if you couldn’t do so in one piece? Blergh. You’re too picky, Elsa chided him softly, and he rolled his shoulders as if he wanted to get an uncomfortable feeling out of his nerves, wishing he could just shrug off the voices. Not likely.

But fine as long as no one noticed there was something wrong with him. Fine as long Avery didn’t ask questions. Fine as long as he hadn’t seen the pills or known what they were for or realized Michaelangelo wasn’t taking them. Fine. You’re fucking kidding yourself. He knows. He told. They’re just too shocked to giggle yet. He really hated Braedon sometimes. Surely Avery hadn’t told anyone about the pills. God, he hoped the doctor hadn’t opened his mouth. Wasn’t that illegal? Patient-doctor confidentiality? Or did that not apply because Avery hadn’t actually treated him? God, he really needed a new therapist. Someone to talk to and help him figure things out. Someone to whom he could complain and not have Elsa make him feel guilty about the complaints, because that was basically a therapist’s job description. Someone who would help him distinguish paranoid delusion from realistic suspicion and false hallucination from real people.[/font][/size][/blockquote][/justify]

[AVERY JUNNOSUKE KAEL]

Watching Mickey and his facial expressions made Avery's mind flash back to the time when he held plastic orange cylinder in his hands and how it felt so...wrong. Like Avery didn't even have the right to know whatever the Wind was facing right now. 'Course, he only had a few speculations, being a doctor and everything, so he was quite sure what Mickey was actually dealing with. And Avery didn't want to be a snoop and go poking around his business like it was his own. He had no right, and he was almost sure that Mickey felt the same way. Their relationship with each other was completely platonic; mere acquaintances. They barely knew each other, despite going to the Academy together in their high school years. Even then they were miles apart from each other in their mentality, social lives, everything about their life...Mickey and Avery were opposites. Each on different ends of the spectrum—until they met again, meeting in the middle for a brief moment before going to their opposite ends again. It was as if they switched places.

Avery stared at the growing blush on Mickey’s cheeks, almost tempted to reach out and stroke the warm flesh. It wouldn’t be unusual for the nurse to actually do that, but he and Mickey hadn’t seen each other in a decade, therefore not knowing the changes they had both undergone. For Avery it was almost drastic. At least he was able to see a glimpse of Mickey’s before they disappeared from each other’s lives. The Wind probably didn’t know what to do with Avery at this point. “Oh really?” He raised an eyebrow, tilting his head. “Try me.” It was a simple challenge—and it’s not Avery took any flattery to heart. Most of the time, anyways. He knew that the majority of it was just to humor the nurse or to play along, because it was just that easy to slip into comfort that way. Avery smirked at him, the eased smile on the Wind’s face freezing. He could almost feel Mickey’s face warming up again under his fingertips and the reaction satisfied him in a way, like he had won a stuffed animal from those rigged crane machines. He liked seeing these kinds of reactions from people. He liked seeing that he had an effect on them. And most of all, he liked seeing the speechlessness, the inability to process what just happened. Avery wasn’t cruel—not even the slightest. It just amused him.

Licking at his ice cream, Avery watched as Mickey contemplated his choices, though he wasn’t entirely focusing. He still couldn’t get over the fact that they’d been able to run into each other again. What were the chances? They both worked at the Academy for three years without knowing about the other’s existence and suddenly one day they see each other again? And just a few days after, again? The chances were slim, and Avery would be lying if he said he wasn’t avoiding Mickey, even after he received his phone number for dinner. He had meant it as a joke to ease the…uncomfortable atmosphere. Avery didn’t expect Mickey to actually take him seriously but he did, and it threw him off guard. Everything about his presence did, though Avery was absolutely sure it wasn’t a bad thing. Mickey was just different than he remembered, like Mickey was sure that the nurse was different, too. People change. Avery had several first hand experiences with that. The Wind wasn’t an exception. “Thanks, Mickey~” Avery sang as he paid, licking at his ice cream again walked out the store obediently. Mickey didn’t mind, right? If he did, he’d feel bad for taking advantage of the situation and compensate, somehow. But there was always next time. The thought rang in his head and he paused. Next time? Would there even be a next time? Avery wasn’t the one for pessimism (quite the opposite), but things between him and Mickey were just so weird. Like things were left unfinished and unestablished, leaving him to pick up the pieces of their…what? It wasn’t like they had any kind of special relation back in high school. He was just a pitiful kid who couldn’t shield himself from the punches and Mickey was just his protector. His own Superman, if you will. But just like Superman and the people he saved, it was an obligation. A spurt of justice.

The bit of sorbet on Mickey’s lips distracted Avery. He narrowed his eyes at the sugary, yellow confectionary, barely hearing Mickey’s question. He wasn’t one of those clean freaks (far from it, just look at his apartment!), but when it came to the face—considering it was what he looked at when talking to someone—Avery was irritated to no end. And so he continued to stare at the spot until finally taking a step forward and brushing his lips against Mickey’s bottom one, his tongue lightly licking at the pink flesh. He scrunched his nose as he smacked his lips together, tasting the too sour treat, and retreated a step backwards, eating his own ice cream again. “Gross. How can you stand eating that?” His outer self seemed composed, almost nonchalant, about the brief touching of lips. But inside his heart was growing erratic, Avery’s lips burning from the slightest touch. No amount of ice cream would settle down that feeling, but he was more worried about how Mickey reacted. He peeked slightly over his ice cream at Mickey, chewing on his lip. This was exactly why Avery needed to actually think before doing shit that seemed normal to him. He would’ve played it off it were any other person—but Mickey didn’t know who he was, not anymore. Think, think, think… He thought previously to Mickey’s question, his lips mouthing the words before he set off himself, taking a few steps into the sidewalk and looked over his shoulder, licking at his ice cream again. “Coming?”

Avery didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he continued on his walk, trying to desperately push the feeling of their lips touching into the corner of his mind. He was currently burning with curiosity wondering what Mickey was thinking. Was he even following him? Or did he just leave? Avery wouldn’t be surprised if he did, considering. It usually took a while for people to get used to the nurses crazy antics, and some just didn’t even want to deal with it. In the back of his mind Avery wished Mickey wasn’t one of those people. Rather…he wanted him to stick around. Mickey vanished from his life once…did he really want him to disappear again?

[MICHAELANGELO DONATELLO GRACE]

Avery was good at the unexpected. Mickey remembered the feeling from ages ago, when he’d protected the scrawny little water from signature bullies. When the bullies were gone, it seemed all the fear had washed away, brushed away as easily as a dry leaf on your shoulder during fall. He’d been surprised how little that had seemed to affect the kid, though once he’d stepped in, there had been far fewer bruises and punches that he actually received. Of course, he could easily have mistaken the attitude for ease when the water was just trying to cover remnant fear, discomfort, and pain. Teenagers were not known for being insanely good at reading others. Especially anger was difficult to distinguish for one reason or another, but then he also doubted that Avery would have been angry with him in such a situation. After all, he was playing Superman.

Nowadays, he felt he was more along the lines of Batman. Except for the discrepancy in powers, Batman was like Superman with a dark side. If his schizophrenia wasn’t some measure of a dark side, he didn’t know how else to classify it. The disorder irritated him. It troubled him. It singled him out, but then not really. After all, so few people actually knew he had it. It was rather the behavior he blamed on it that singled him out, that certain distaste for most people he hadn’t quite outgrown from the days before his diagnosis. He still preferred being alone to being in a group. He preferred one-on-one tutoring to when a group of students asked for assistance, though classes were another matter entirely because they were usually just lectures with a couple of questions thrown in. Even those were fairly rare, considering his students were usually so intent on taking notes to ensure they caught everything he said. His exams were a bit on the easier side of it because he knew his lectures weren’t perfect—he sometimes talked too quickly and he tended to jump between topics due to his disorganized mind.

Thereby, it was also easy for him to be distracted. His mind didn’t like to focus on any one thing for extended periods of time. Cartoons held his attention because they were enveloping There were the sounds and the visuals and the storylines. There was always so much going on in them that it was hard not to be distracted by one factor, but the distractions they caused pleased him, let him enjoy the cartoon on more than one level. They were so colorful, too, even the older ones that usually lacked a bit of quality in the screenings. He liked how the different hues were so obviously separate but blended together perfectly. When colors clashed, he didn’t doubt that the creators had purposed them to do so, so they could be eye-catching and attention-grabbing. He liked the different characters, too. No matter how many times he saw the same general idea, like Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck arguing about one idea or another, the different twists on it always amused him. He liked it just as much when they argued as when they got along. How could he not pay attention? It was usually only when something shocked him that distractions could be ignored. Something that could wholly grasp all his senses, like cartoons did, and tugged them onto a single, focal point was hard to find.

Finding it was therefore unexpected, which sometimes doubled the shock. Avery managed to hold his attention when he stepped closer. His mind worked overtime, trying to process whatever was about to happen as if it were doing so in slow motion, the events passing slowly as if he were looking at a flip book page by page. He didn’t so much register movement as that there was something different in every second. Avery’s breath smelled of chocolate syrup. He could feel it on his skin. His lips were soft as they collided with his mouth. The flick of his tongue was slight, producing almost a tickling sensation as it captured the spot of ice cream and then retreated. His eyes were completely focused on the man before him, wide, a bit confused, but mostly surprised. He didn’t immediately classify it as a kiss, mostly because he didn’t think it was intentioned that way.

He hadn’t even noticed there was ice cream on his face.

“I… I like it,” he muttered, still staring at him, still trying to figure out if there was more to the kiss than there was obvious. Well, no, not the kiss, the… the contact. Was Avery just trying to get the ice cream off or was he trying to do something more? After all, if it was just the ice cream thing, then he could have just mentioned Michaelangelo had something on his face. He could have wiped it off with a napkin or his hand. Why did it have to be his tongue? If he wanted to try the ice cream, he should have just asked for some. The wind wasn’t so picky about germs so as not to offer. He wasn’t sick. He doubted Avery was.

Okay, well, he was sick. He just wasn’t physically ill or contagious. He was just… a little unwell in the noggin. He cleared his throat, not wanting to let his mind wander there again. It was still bothering him that Avery had possibly seen the untouched pills in their bottle. He hadn’t opened the new bottle either. It sat on his bedside table. Every night when he want to bed, he stared at the orange plastic and his name in black ink, written so neatly on the white paper taped securely to the bottle along with the name of medicine. Elsa always encouraged him to take his pills, but he earnestly refused, turned off the light, and rolled over.

As long as Avery wasn’t about to bring it up, that was fine. He licked at the ice cream again, then nodded and followed him onto the sidewalk, walking a step behind him, trying to put together words in his mind to share. A question to ask. Something not insensitive to suggest. For a moment, nothing came to mind. Then, he asked, feeling rather mundane for doing so, “Where are we headed?” He looked up at the back of Avery’s head, almost relieved he didn’t have to face him directly unless he turned around.

[AVERY JUNNOSUKE KAEL]

Avery was used to being told about the whole “different and unpredictable” thing. Actually, he was far more used to it for it to be considered normal—but it was, unfortunately, but he took it with pride because, what else could he do? He wasn’t about to change himself or beat himself up about it. Avery had already done enough of that, and it only got worse with Mickey around. ‘Course, don’t take that as a bad thing—it was only a little… okay, maybe a lot. But that’s because Avery had the ego the size of football field. And because Mickey knew and saw far too many of Avery’s vulnerabilities.

That was pretty much all Avery was concerned about when he and the Wind professor dramatically reunited again. It wasn’t like they were close friends either, even back then. They had a simple relationship—what they had now, Avery didn’t know. Friends? Acquaintances? Or maybe something as superficial and boring as co-workers? He shivered at the thought. Being co-workers wasn’t bad, of course, but he felt like relationship was so much more complicated than that. It was an insult to just regard themselves as co-workers, but it was also far-fetched to call themselves friends.

Or was it? After all, Mickey offered to buy him dinner. And now, they were eating ice cream (Mickey’s treat) and somewhat catching up on the lost time. But eleven years was far too long with too many details to remember, and it wasn’t like they had any obligations to each other. Well, Mickey didn’t anyways. Avery would spend a lifetime trying to pay him back for what he’d done for him when he was weak, but a nagging thought kept pulling him backwards. Did he even have to? The Wind left him to fend for himself, after all. Not that Avery was a selfish person, but… how can repay for something that obviously didn’t care to leave a word? Things in the real world didn’t work like that. You don’t go to an ex-boyfriend who cheated on you with flowers saying, “Hey! Thanks for all you did for me before cheating on me!” Okay, that wasn’t the best example. But that’s what Avery felt like. The hurt and betrayal he felt after Mickey left outweighed the good.

He stared back at Mickey, breathing a small sigh of relief. At least the man didn’t go off on him or push him away the second Avery stepped closer—but the nurse kept wishing he did. So he didn’t have to feel this frenzied feeling in his gut. As if he ruined something for good this time with his stupid antics. Avery just didn’t think sometimes, not taking in account that the person just might not be used to him or just plain uncomfortable to the point they didn’t even want to be around him anymore. Avery pushed and pushed that eventually… people left. And he was alone again.

Avery scrunched his nose again, licking at his ice cream again to get the sour taste out of his mouth and held it out for Mickey. “Gross,” he repeated, waving his ice cream slightly. “Here, have some of mine.” Avery took a step closer again, keeping a relative distance. He swiped a finger across his ice cream and licked it off, grinning at him cheekily. “It’s a lot better than that.” He was referring to the nasty yellow confectionary in Mickey’s hands, of course. Avery was more of a chocolate guy, and if he wanted anything fruit related, he’d just buy them at the store. The artificial sweet taste of “fruits” in ice creams or sorbet made him cringe. He shrugged after a moment, bringing the ice cream back to his lips, smacking them together again after a moment. “Next time I’ll order for you. They have the best chocolate ice cream.” He nodded once firmly, and then grinned again. “And I’ll treat you~! It’s the least I can do.” ‘Course, another thought tugged at him. Was there going to even be a next time? Avery frowned slightly, turning his head quickly before hiding his lips behind his ice cream. Smile. You get less questions that way. And he did just that, but the light didn’t quite reach his eyes.

He jumped in surprise when he heard Mickey’s voice behind him. Avery was actually convinced that he wouldn’t follow after him, so this was a pleasant surprise. He turned his head, slowing down his pace to fall in step with Mickey and grinned childishly at him. “The park!” he exclaimed as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Avery always went to the park after his shifts and usually he spent his whole day there during the weekends. It was a lot more crowded on the weekends, but that didn’t bother him. Actually, he quite enjoyed it. Being surrounded by parents and their kids made him forget that he was a lonely person. And it convinced him that there were good parents in the world, which he envied with a passion. Going to the park, playing with his parents—all were opportunities he didn’t get as a child. “Do you like kids?” Avery asked after a moment, swinging his free arm back and forth as they walked. He was honestly curious, because from what he remembered, Mickey had a few younger siblings. None that actually went to the Academy because at the time they were too young, but he remembered hearing about them and how Mickey doted on his little sisters. Avery waited patiently for an answer. He was in no rush, but he already had an answer formed in his head if Mickey turned the question on him. Avery loved kids—if he hadn’t taken up the job to be the Academy’s nurse, he would’ve been a pediatrician.

Upon reaching the park, Avery grinned widely. “C’mon, Mickey!” He tugged on the hem of Mickey’s shirt, eventually growing impatient and just grabbing his hand, pulling him towards the park, to the swings. He noted how warm the Wind’s hands felt in his and squeezed it gently, looking back at him with a smile before letting go of it after just a few feet’s distance away from the swing set. Avery plopped down on a swing, kicking his legs back and forth as the swing swayed side to side, finishing off what was left of his ice cream and grabbed hold of the chains, leaning back as he stared up at the sky. This was the best part about swings, in his opinions. Sometimes he stayed there for hours, just watching as the clouds rolled by. Definitely the best.

[MICHAELANGELO DONATELLO GRACE]

“Normal” frequently referred to the “average” of something, a population or a sample of one meant to represent the entirety. The “average,” in turn, most commonly meant some mathematical mean, which was a quantitative value and thus required numerical values to make much sense and to form it. It was not a resistant value, however, which meant that outliers could have an incredible effect on it, and in his opinion was thereby not very reliable anyway. So, logically, saying anything was “normal” didn’t make much sense to him and he tried to stop from doing so. And yet, if he did apply the word to people in general, he had to be quite honest with himself and admit that Avery was not, by any criteria except those applicable only to himself, normal. Not that he minded. He sort of liked that Avery wasn’t normal. It made him easier to remember, even if his memory was otherwise rather good. Avery stood out against all the people he ran into on a daily basis, whether of his own choice or not, and he definitely preferred it when he remembered people he actually liked.

He liked the ice cream he’d ordered, too. It was nice and crystalline and refreshing. He expected that the confection in Avery’s hands would be thick and creamy and probably heavy as a result. Nonetheless, if Avery was going to make such a huge deal about it… He lifted an eyebrow at the other and caught the ice cream that he was waving into the professor’s face. He used his hand to pull him closer, encouraging the ice cream to come up to his face, and slowly pulled his tongue over the chocolatey top, capturing some of the ice cream in his mouth before he slid his lips away from the dessert. He let the ice cream melt on his tongue, still holding onto Avery’s hand and the cone within it. After a moment, he swallowed, and let the nurse pull away gain, hand relaxing on his and dropping to his side. He tilted his face towards the sky and considered the remaining taste. “Could be worse,” he admitted after a moment, and returned his attention to the ice cream in his hand, of which Avery had been complaining before, for no good reason.

“I think we have irreconcilable differences when it comes to ice cream then,” he replied finally, slipping his tongue back over the lemony sweet in his possession. He shrugged, tucking his empty hand into his pocket, and strolling along again. He placed his right foot slightly to the left, and then swung his left foot around it and placed it more to the right of his hip, making him sway a little as he walked in a pattern that was far more complex to do than it appeared to be when observed. Maybe he even looked drunk. Right, a drunkard stumbling along the sidewalk with lemon sorbet in his hand. Anyone who assumed that would probably also assume that he and Avery were dating. He shook his head slightly from side to side in thought and flicked his tongue out at his ice cream again. It was sweet, but sour at the same time, a perfect combination of both of the flavors that appealed to him, and one he didn’t understand Avery for disliking. He smiled to himself at the thought. Maybe he really was crazy, though disagreeing with someone about whether ice cream tasted good or not was a rather ridiculous reason for someone to take pills.

He shook his head at Avery’s invitation. His mind flashed back to their original meeting—this year, at least. He remembered his promise well enough. He didn’t think it had been fulfilled just because he’d bought the nurse ice cream. Ice cream and dinner were two vastly different things. Dinner was a meal. Ice cream was only a part of a meal, a dessert, or perhaps even a mid-afternoon snack. “Next time, we’re not going to eat ice cream. Even if we do, I won't be eating chocolate ice cream. Besides, you forget that I’ve invited you for dinner.” He glanced at the other, lifting an eyebrow and waiting for a response, wondering what it might be and almost regretting reinforcing the offer. So maybe he’d end up eating Ramen for a couple of weeks so he could afford the dinner, but he was fine with the offer. He was fine with Ramen.

Kids, not so much. He almost grimaced when Avery asked that question, but he waited on actually answering. At least that meant they had a direction to walk into, rather than ambling in some random, nonexistent pattern. He strolled alongside Avery towards the green, wondering what would happen once they got there. What did the nurse expect? What did he think would happen if two guys suddenly walked towards the park filled with kids and their parents? The parents would surely be suspicious. Who knew what two strangers would have in mind coming near tons of little children, when little children could only too easily go missing in that sort of crowd? Mickey knew enough about crime to imagine what on Earth someone could possibly think of them. He wondered how often Avery came here, whether his would be a face that the parents would recognize, and if so, why he would come here so often. Did he have as little a life as Michaelangelo did? Maybe they lived mirrored lives of the other, going to work, going home, and doing nothing else with themselves.

No, that would be too much of a coincidence.

The wind let the nurse pull him towards the swings, though he was wondering why he moved from grabbing his shirt to grabbing his hand, both contacts to which he wasn’t accustomed. He didn’t generally touch people. Sure, earlier he had initiated touch—twice—but this was more than he was almost comfortable with. He was just being picky, wasn’t he? Maybe. “Kids aren’t my favorite creatures on Earth,” he admitted when they reached the swings, watching Avery act just like one and plop down in one of the swings. He lifted an eyebrow, focusing on his ice cream instead of the nurse and wondering why he’d asked that question. Was it really any of his business? He glanced at him, deciding to ask more than that. “Why? Are you particularly fond of them? Do you have any?” He hadn’t noticed a wedding ring, but then he knew some people didn’t wear them and some people with kids weren’t married and he wasn’t even sure what Avery was thinking or whether he’d be offended just because the professor had asked.

[AVERY JUNNOSUKE KAEL]

It wasn’t hard to remember a person like Mickey— which said a lot, considering Avery’s days at the Academy were clouded with the use of alcohol and other substances he wasn’t proud of. But Mickey just stood out—other people chose to avoid him (he was like a walking target) and he was also the first person to step for him. They didn’t talk much but Avery wish they did, so Mickey knew how thankful he was for playing guardian angel. It was no use wanting to turn back time now, though. Those days were gone, long past them. He wasn’t even sure if the Wind ever thought about them anymore—it wasn’t like Avery played a significant role in his life, or even stood out. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if Mickey even forgot about them.

Now that got Avery thinking. What if Mickey really did forget about him? Was he really that insignificant? Sure, he didn’t stand out all that much back then, but at least the Wind had to have some recollection of him. And of course he did! When they met in the medical wing for the first time—Mickey said his name. That had to count for something. At least his face was still memorable, even without the scratches and bruises the Wind was used to seeing. But why was it important if he did remember Avery? The nurse sighed, scratching the back of his head. Too much thinking and all his thinking would do would send him back to square one. And so he just focused on Mickey right now, in the present, without thinking about the past.

Which wasn’t hard to do when he reached out and grabbed his hand, pulling Avery towards him. Avery was pulled into silence as he got closer to Mickey, his lips parting and his eyes widening as he stared. It was as if the same force that grabbed his hand also grabbed his attention—Avery didn’t resist, he didn’t even blink. All his focus was on Mickey at that instant, barely moving an inch until he finally let go and Avery pulled his hand back swiftly, his cheeks getting warm. What the hell. “It’s a lot better than yours,” he sputtered, trying his hardest to get his face back to its original color. It took a lot for someone like Avery to blush, let alone be flustered. Mickey was probably the first. And so he glared at his ice cream cone, taking a big bite of it as he tried to take his mind off the image and the closeness just moments before. Almost aggressively he wiped his lips with a napkin he had stuffed in his pocket, not even caring if he had remnants of chocolate left over on his face. Avery just needed to get his mind off things.

He shrugged, licking at his ice cream cone again. “I guess we do. ” Avery grinned cheekily at him. “But I still have better taste!” He confirmed his thoughts with a nod, watching Mickey’s steps as he walked along side him. Avery laughed a moment, getting ahead of the Wind and began to walk backwards, facing him. “Why are you doing that?” His focus was now on Mickey’s face, studying him curiously as he licked at his ice cream again. Ugh—maybe he did order too much. But it wasn’t everyday that someone offered to buy him ice cream, might as well take advantage of the situation, right? And there was never such thing as having too much ice cream… Avery took a bite of his cone, lost in his thoughts, until he ran into something hard. Surprised and dazed by the pain, he stumbled forward, now running into something warm and soft. He clutched at it, trying to balance himself, until he realized he didn’t know quite what it was. Avery paused for a moment, blinking to clear his head, and peeked upwards. Mickey. He took a step back, chewing his lip. “Sorry,” he mumbled as he looked back at what he originally ran into—a pole. Of course. Just his luck. “Didn’t mean to run into you.” And so Avery began walking again, blushing feverishly. Stupid, stupid, stupid…

“So there will be a next time?” he asked hopefully, grinning. It was probably stupid of him to be excited over this, but he couldn’t help it. “…Right. Of course.” Avery didn’t forget that promise. In fact he was saving a little money each day for the dinner, even if Mickey was the one that offered and Avery was too chicken to call him. It didn’t settle right with him if the Wind were to pay for all off it. It’s not like it was a date or anything. “Just tell me when and I’ll be there!” Avery grinned at him and leaned in, voice low. “But don’t expect anything more after that dinner~” His grin turned mischievous and he stood straight again, recalling their little “accident” the day they had met again. It was embarrassing to think about, but at least it wasn’t awkward now. Now being the key word.

Avery frowned when Mickey answered his question. “Really? Why not?” He sat up in swing, staring at him curiously as he swayed back and forth, his feet still touching the ground. It was probably ignorant for him to think this, but Avery thought that everybody loved kids. They were adorable and innocent and oblivious to the world’s evils and they were just… happy. Like nothing in the world could take them away from the light of childhood. They didn’t understand much about the world around them, but they held a great deal of trust for it. It fascinated Avery in a way. “I love kids,” he started, twisting in his swing a little. “I have two, from my last marriage. We're divorced now, though. One girl, one boy. One’s four, the other seven.” Avery paused for a moment, looking up at the sky, becoming completely silent before he spoke up again. “I’m kidding. I don’t have any kids. I've never been married either.” He looked back down at Mickey and grinned. “But I had you for a second, didn’t I?”

[MICHAELANGELO DONATELLO GRACE]

You didn't need to talk to learn something about someone, to know what they thought or how they felt. You had to watch them, the way they moved, the way they talked. You had to remember things, too. You had to gauge reactions, make sure you weren’t interpreting, which was why you needed more than one sample. You needed to see with your own eyes, too, though a video was usually as good as seeing someone in person, as long as you knew the circumstances. Mickey wasn’t fantastic at focusing, but he remembered everything. He remembered the exact look in Avery’s eyes the first time he’d stepped in front of a bully and shoved the punch away. He remembered the shock, the surprise, the confusion. He remembered the look and he would never forget it.

Now, it became an attempt to reconcile the shock, and the later expressions he would never forget either, with the face he saw in front of himself now. The surprise he had seen initially at their last meeting was just as fresh in his mind, and he worked from there. It was so similar to the way he had appeared back then. 11 years ago. He couldn’t get over how long it had been, how long it had felt, and, at the same time, how short it had truly been, and how short it felt now. Avery’s face had changed, of course. Everyone’s face changed over 11 years. It grew older, more mature. There weren’t any wrinkles yet, but he figured the nurse would have at least smile lines in another 11 years. He wanted to see those smile lines. He hadn’t seen too many smiles way back when they were only trying not to be too bruised.

He glanced down at his ice cream. It was yellow, but a shade vastly different from those of actual bruises. Bruises were more a green-yellow than an actual bright yellow. He knew the sorbet had coloring additives to make it the shade of sunshine that it was. He didn’t mind them so much. Ice cream was supposed to be unhealthy, as far as he’d experienced. It was sweet, sometimes, and sugary and and creamy and just bad for you, but that was okay because it tasted good. It was why people would go out to buy it. It was why Avery got ice cream after a hard day—it was sweet. It was a comfort food. Comfort food was never healthy, as far as he was aware. Mac and cheese. Ice cream. Chocolate. Comfort food was sweet, creamy, heavy in some way, or all of the above. But he didn’t have mac and cheese or chocolate, he had ice cream, even if he could still taste the chocolate from Avery’s cone. “We’ll agree to disagree,” he offered after a long moment, running his tongue over his teeth, as if that would somehow get rid of the chocolate flavor and replace it with the lemon. "Besides, you don't have the best of tastes." He was, of course, referring to Avery's unfortunate habits back in high school. He assumed those had been ceased ages ago. A nurse who was also a drunk and a druggie just seemed like he'd lose his job quickly enough, and Avery had worked at the school 3 years. He ran his tongue over his own ice cream again then, which worked much better.

Generally, asking specific questions worked better, too, but he figured that Avery was referring to his odd little walking pattern. He glanced down at his feet as he moved, thinking Avery would take care not to slow down enough to walk into him. “This?” he asked, just to make sure that it was indeed the thing that he was referring to. He glanced up again, offering a shrug. “Why not?” Usually people needed reasons to do things, but sometimes you just didn’t Sometimes it was fine just doing things because you could, because you felt like it, because you had no reason not to do them. And Michaelangelo had no reason not to do this. He just wanted to cross his legs as he walked, and he watched the curve of his movement again as he did.

That was probably why Avery ran into him. He hadn’t looked up in time to see the pole that was behind Avery, though it was questionable whether he would have seen it if he had. Instead, he caught the nurse awkwardly, nearly toppling over himself because his one foot was still at the odd angle. He steadied himself quickly, hands going to the nurse’s shoulders, the one hand managing only to place his last two fingers along Avery’s shirt because he was still holding his ice cream cone and not wanting to drop it or crush it. He felt Avery’s fingers clutch at him for a minute, probably for the same point of steadying himself. He didn’t say anything. He had no words. What could he say? It was just another one of the awkward moments. At least he had grabbed the water’s crotch again like he had accidentally the last time Avery had almost fallen over. The thought stilled embarrassed him, and it was this rather than the current run-in that made him blush. He cleared his throat, not bothering to reply when Avery apologized.

“That was the expected,” he replied instead to the question that followed. “I’m just waiting on you to call me and tell me where I’m buying you dinner.” He shrugged again. He was still forcing Avery to make the decision if he wanted to end up hanging out with his old shining knight. He wanted to know if Avery was okay with reconnecting them. If he wanted them to intertwine their lives once more. He didn’t know. He didn’t know if they should, if Avery wanted to. He just knew he was open to the idea. He would rather be friendly with Avery than ignore him altogether. He was almost offended when the water suggested that he was expecting something more already and should kill those expectations immediately. He frowned a little at the other but didn’t comment, not wanting to justify the suggestion with a comment of any sort.

He was more willing to reply to the question about kids, but first he wanted to figure out how to word it. Shock distracted him, however, when Avery started talking about kids and being married. He hadn’t expected that. At all. He was just about to ask why he didn’t wear a ring—he’d noticed that much—when Avery mentioned the separation and he frowned a little. At least his family had stuck together. He was really glad for that. He loved that his parents still loved each other. Or at least appeared to. No, he wouldn’t go there. Too much would fall apart if he went there. But then Avery continued and said he’d been lying, and he felt a little offended. He frowned at the nurse on the swings, not entirely satisfied with the response but not sure how to reply otherwise. Should he address the lie? Should he laugh belatedly? Neither option appealed to him. Instead, he rolled his shoulders, nibbled at his ice cream, then replied, “I just find them annoying, I guess. Besides, it’s not like the world needs more people.”

[AVERY JUNNOSUKE KAEL]

Avery’s initial impression of Mickey? Hard to say. It was a mix of confusion, thankfulness, suspicion… almost every emotion was involved when the Wind first stood up for him. He remembered one distinct emotion, however, and that was anger. Anger because his pride was so big that he thought he didn’t need anyone to play Superman for him. Anger because he let the bullying get so far that someone felt the need to save. Anger because he let that person get hurt by fighting his fights.

Anger. It was a petty thing, even for him.

At least now Avery rarely got angry. Having the Water upset with anything was just… out of the ordinary. Unreal. Unlike him. This was probably why people liked him so much—he didn’t take things seriously and was easy to joke around with. Nothing about him screamed intimidating or depressing. He was happy. Friendly. Like nothing was wrong with him. ‘Course that was miles away from the correct answer, but hey, if he could keep up this front for this long, might as well stick to it. And it’s not like Avery was depressed or anything upsetting like that—he was generally a happy person. Just when he was alone did everything seep in. Being the over analytical person he was, it was hard not to let his thoughts run haywire when the opportunity presented itself, especially since Mickey entered his life again. It wasn’t technically a bad thing but… so many blocked out memories rushed back in and it was just overwhelming. The changes, the way he looked, the overall atmosphere of him… it both excited and scared Avery.

Avery stared down at his ice cream, the chocolate fusing together with the ice cream, creating a marble effect. Faintly he wondered why he liked getting ice cream after a hard day—but it was like heroine to a drug addict. It was a temporary fix to a heavy heart; that was the simplest thing he could think of. Actually, the simplest thing was ‘ice cream has a nice taste,’ but that was too shallow. Almost every food had a nice taste, so why just ice cream? Avery knew he wasn’t the only person who turned to ice cream when things turned sour. Well, at least he didn’t cry over it like the women in the movies—he just didn’t cry anymore. “Fine,” he sighed, still a little flustered over the situation that occurred earlier. Avery’s cheeks were still a bit florid from his blushing—which he rarely ever did—and he stumbled a bit of his words, but other than that, he was fine… okay that was a lie. A blushing, flustered Avery? That was completely not fine. It was like sticking an Earth in a room full of Fires. It just didn’t fit. “Pfft! Hardly!” he exclaimed defensively. “My tastes are just fine, thank you very much!” Avery then took a step forward, poking at Mickey’s lips gently. They were very soft and smooth, he noted and his mind faintly flashed back to their, uh—contact, and he blushed again, trying to hide it behind his ice cream cone. “I mean, I’m still hanging around you, aren’t I?” He cracked a grin at Mickey, nudging him softly. It was weird—seeing each other again after 11 years. Granted, they weren’t very close to begin with, but… Mickey was important to the nurse. Even if the Wind didn’t understand that.

He tilted his head as he watched Mickey, only blinking a few times before going back and watching him again. Avery didn’t know why, but whatever Mickey did held his attention. He wasn’t sure if he was waiting for the professor to go off like a time bomb or randomly break out into song. He just didn’t know with Mickey—which was what frustrated him to no end. Avery could read emotions like it were on the back of his hand, but with Mickey… it was like trying to read in glasses that were clearly not in his prescription. He was different. The good different. It’d just be easier (and less frustrating) to know what he was thinking every now and then. “Well,” Avery started, his tone matter-of-fact, though he shrugged as he spoke. “You can stumble over yourself and get hurt.” Just as he said that he stumbled a bit, his arms outstretched to steady himself. “But I guess you don’t have to worry about that. Nurse here~” Avery poked his own cheek and grinned at Mickey. He doubted that Mickey would hurt him that much by tripping over himself, but hey, maybe he had low tolerance for pain. Avery for sure did.

This was probably one of the few times where Avery wished he could read minds. What was the Wind thinking? Counting the years before when Mickey played Superman, this was probably the hundredth time he had to save the clumsy nurse from getting hurt—from bullies and himself. Mickey was probably thinking about how Avery managed to live without him for all these years—how he managed to even walk without hurting himself. He dealt just fine with walking, but the former… he couldn’t say too much about that. After Mickey disappeared, the Water became a walking target again and the bullying somehow managed to get even worse (especially from Hiro) but he came out stronger from that. He at least made an effort to fight back. Before Mickey he just let it happen because he knew it’d end quicker and be less painful. Okay, that was mostly a lie. At that time Avery just felt dead inside. He couldn’t gather enough energy to fight back, even if he wanted to.

And he did. So, so badly.

Avery pursed his lips. Normally with offers like these (food!) he’d be all over it in a heartbeat. And he did want to be able to reconnect with Mickey, or whatever way a person should phrase it—but he hesitated. It wasn’t because he didn’t have any money, nor was it about the whole “I got you dinner so next time you have to pay” thing; he wasn’t a petty person. It was just the whole reconnecting with Mickey thing—they hadn’t spoke in eleven years, and eleven years is a long time. He didn’t know what to say, ask, or tell the Wind. He was almost afraid what Mickey would ask him and what he, himself would blurt out on accident. Avery breathed out slowly, not wanting to skip another moment when he already was so quiet. “Okay. I’ll call you. But why do I have to call you?” he asked curiously. “Not that I mind or anything, but…” But… but… Avery trailed off, blinking at him. Was Mickey unsure he wanted to hang out with the Water as well? Or was he being cautious, not wanting to force the nurse into something he didn’t want to do?

Dammit. Where were the superhero abilities when you needed it?

He swung back and forth on his swing, his feet barely lifting from the ground as he waited for Mickey to respond back to him. Normally people would’ve caught on by now—Avery, a father? C’mon now. But obviously Mickey wasn’t used to the Water’s joking around, as confirmed by the silence that followed after. He hesitated, opening his mouth to try to compensate for the silence (was Mickey offended? Or was he just that vocally challenged that speaking just didn’t appeal to him?) but was cut off when Mickey finally spoke. Almost immediately Avery frowned at his words, his eyes studying the Wind before looking up at the sky, shrugging as he offered a reply. “I guess,” he quoted softly, his eyes fixated on the clouds. The distant sound of a child’s laughter made the corner of Avery’s mouth twitch into a smile and he closed his eyes, his own distant memories coming forth when he was a child. He’d watch but never join, play but never play with others, because being around people was enough for him. Even now, that was the same. “Maybe there is a lot of people, but the world’s less lonely that way.”