any happy little thought?

The knock on the door hadn't caught John by surprise, he was aware Michael and Wendy had made plans for the day. He simply wasn't expecting his brother to be ready earlier than his sister. "Good morning," he opened the door further to let Michael in while double checking his watch only to make sure the time was in accordance with his greeting. "I believe Wendy is still away at breakfast with Phil but she should be back soon." There was a caution he felt he had to keep now, scared that his past faults would take over every conversation. John had wished there wasn't some leftover tension between him and his siblings but he knew he had made mistakes and only wanted to correct them and get back to the friendship he missed so much while he was away. "I could get you some coffee or tea, if you'd like. You can wait in Wendy's room, although, I wouldn't mind the company while I finish the crossword."

Luckily for Berlioz, his mother had little influence on what he did nowadays. She was so far removed from their lives that he could get away with nearly anything, really. It was only his own discipline that kept him going, still headed toward the goal of being in charge of his own orchestra one day. “Well, if you did drop out, what is it you’d want to do?” he asked, in case the other boy had an answer. There were plenty of people who didn’t know what they wanted to do at their age. “Are your parents paying for school? Wouldn’t they be glad to be finished paying for it?” Berlioz questioned rhetorically, letting out a small laugh.

“I’d keep working here. Learn more about the restaurant industry, maybe work my way up a ladder or two eventually,” he answers with a genuine passion for the idea. It wasn’t the most glamorous of jobs, nor was it at all what his parents wanted for him - but Michael couldn’t help but feel like this was where he belonged. Everything else he tried to study or get into just felt forced and wrong. Laughing along with the other boy, his head shook at the mere thought of his parents seeing it that way. “You’d think, but no. They’d rather pay for me to go through a million courses to find something respectable than accept that I’m happy simply being here.”

“No, it’s—I know how she can get,” he sighed. For as much as Michael shouldn’t have said what he had, Sam knew his ex-girlfriend had probably provoked him to the point of snapping. It was one of her best talents, getting Sam to the edge and daring him to jump, to be the one to finally break things off. No matter how close he’d come, he’d never gotten there, and now, he never would. “She has such high standards for people, y’know? They’re impossible. And, then, she pokes and prods you under pressure and still expects perfection.” 

He was venting now, and he couldn’t imagine Michael really wanted to hear all of it. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to go on about it, it’s just—I feel like she wanted me to get frustrated with her tonight, or something. Like she was looking for ways to get me pissed off, and … I couldn’t do it anymore. So, I’m glad I found you.”

“No, no. You can talk about it. Feel free to talk about anything you want,” he insists, despite not actually wanting to talk about the girl in any capacity, even if it was to complain. But he knew Sam probably needed this - needed someone to just get it all off his chest with that wasn’t going to immediately pile in on hating his ex the way he’s sure Tink and many of the boys probably had done. “If it helps, I was just sort of wandering aimlessly, which isn’t the same but also kind of pathetic - so I’m glad you found me too.”

“Your siblings are dating?” Claude echoed, leaning forward in his seat. He’d never meant to set up such a close crossover amongst his employees, but it was a good thing it didn’t seem to bother Michael too much. In fact, it was almost perfect, if he did have interest in the other boy. “How peculiar—did you just figure this out today? Your sister … she has a boyfriend, yes? A quite tall one? I feel like I remember them coming in here one time to dine.” A lovely girl, from what he could remember, and her boyfriend awestruck at the level of cuisine the restaurant served. “Unless, of course, they’re no longer together, then, my apologies.”

At the mention of his sister and her boyfriend, he once again nods and lets out a light laugh at the apologies Claude offers to cover his basis in case things had gone south between the two. “They’re still together, yeah. Coming up on their one year, actually, this Valentines. His name’s Phil - but most people do just remember him from being very tall. And good looking. Those are kind of his two strongest qualities,” he teases, not feeling too guilty saying it when he knows Phil would be the first to admit the same thing.

“Well, don’t be moody for too much longer, if you can help it. I miss being able to invite you over when he is here.” Wendy let out a laugh, the named scandal to happen amongst their friends one she hadn’t heard before. Strangely, the secret between her and John had brought her exponentially closer to Tink, something she hadn’t thought she’d ever see, given how long it’d taken them to get there. “You know, I think we are. Or, at least, the closest to friends we’re ever going to get. I’d followed her out of Sharpay’s party with a bottle of wine, and the rest is history.” She paused, raising a brow as she tiptoed toward the subject she really wanted to breach. “Speaking of, she told me something interesting, something … about you, and Sam?” she inquired, keeping her questioning brief before letting her brother defend himself.

The relief he felt hearing from Wendy’s own lips that she and the fairy were friends now was short lived, replaced instead by a sense of dread at what Tink had slipped up and let out. Or intentionally told, it was hard to tell with her. Michael had known that Sam had filled the blonde in on their new arrangement, but he never thought she’d go blabbing to his sister at the first turn! It almost for a brief moment makes him miss the days when they hated each other - or more accurately, when Tink hated Wendy. The feeling had never really been too strongly returned. “Oh. What – what did she say?” he asks instead of confirming or denying anything, wanting to know exactly what it was his sister thought was happening. No need to out himself as falling back into old behaviors that had broken his heart once and would likely do it again if all she knew was they were hanging out a bit.

It was a night in which Wendy was positive her roommate had a date with his girlfriend that she invited their youngest brother over. From what she'd heard from Tink, she needed to hear the truth from his mouth, the admission that he and Sam had been seeing each other again. It was probably the worst thing he could be doing for himself: the heartbreak inevitable from the start. Wendy wasn't set out to break the two of them up, of course, but she just needed to do the sisterly thing and be sure he knew what he was getting himself into.

"You want wine?" she asked as she joined him at the sofa, two glasses and a bottle in hand. It was to soften the blow, or to at least loosen him up a bit to hear the advice she was going to give, whether he wanted to receive it or not. "You can sleep over, of course. I don't think John's coming home 'til late, anyway." Things were still rocky between her brothers: perhaps it was a good place to start, to build common ground. "Are you two still on strange terms with each other? I don't want to pry on him, you know how private he is."

“It’s better now, ‘cause of the holidays, you know. There really wasn’t any avoiding him then and I didn’t want to make it obvious to mother and father that something was wrong… So I guess I kind of tricked myself into acting like I’m over it, even though I don’t know if I really am,” he admits with a half hearted shrug. It still felt so weird, knowing that his brother had kept such a huge secret from them - but now that he had a secret of his own that he was hiding from his siblings, it felt a bit hypocritical to still be upset with the older boy. “We’ll be fine, in the long run. I think I just need a bit more time to be moody about it. What about you? Are you over Tink-gate yet? And how’s that going anyway? I’ve heard you guys are actually like friends now?” He doesn’t say who he’s heard it from, not wanting to open a potential discussion about his rekindled semi-relationship with Sam.

"No, no, my apologies, I didn't mean to make you think you'd done anything wrong. I didn't think you crossed a line." For how anxious the younger boy seemed, he feared every crack at a personal detail might need a disclaimer from now on. "He didn't say you had, either, for the record, I just, uh ... forgive me, I suppose I let my inner gossip get the better of me. I hope I didn't cross a line myself." As someone with a position in power, he should've known not to press without permission on things so personal. "Not that anyone else was gossiping about it, by the way, not at all. I simply took notice, but not in a noticing bad way, more so in a people-watching, to myself way, if that makes any sense at all."

“No, no, you’re fine. I just… I really love this job and take it seriously, I just didn’t want to give you any impression otherwise,” he promises, slowly starting to relax a bit as it becomes clear he’s not actually in any trouble here. “I think you should hire Berlioz again, for the guests and the sake of just having him around. We ended up having a lot more in common than I would have thought - and I mean beyond just the fact that our siblings are dating. Which is still kind of weird, seeing John with an actual girlfriend. One he’s telling us about now, at least.” It was more personal information than he’d ever let slip to his boss, but nothing incriminating by any means - simply the type of stuff he’d talk about with any friend or even acquaintance he knew.

Regardless of the job, Berlioz was at least glad to hear that the other boy enjoyed what he was doing. He couldn't imagine doing anything other than music, his one true love. "As long as you love it, I don't see why not." Having been playing professionally since he was a teenager, there hadn't been a need for Berlioz to go to school, especially when being a musician was more about someone's connections and talent. "I didn't go to school. I figure it's better for my career if I just keep playing when I can, non? Build my resume, things like that."

At the way Berlioz so easily accepted the fact and even encouraged his prioritizing the job at the restaurant over his school, he couldn’t help but grin a bit. It was rare to find anyone nowadays that didn’t think university was the most important thing a young person could and should do. And perhaps maybe in the future Michael would regret not putting more time and effort into his studies, but in his current point of life it just seemed like a waste more than anything else. “If only my parents could see it that way,” he quips, shaking his head a bit. There was something about the boy, who was practically a stranger, that made it feel so easy to admit to things he continuously held so close to his chest. “That makes sense. In honesty, I didn’t want to do school either. Still don’t, really, hence the lack of declared major. I’m only doing it because it’s kind of what all my family expects me to do.” He pauses for a moment, debating if he’s already said too much as it is before deciding fuck it. “If it were up to me, really, I would have already dropped out by now. I’m still kind of considering it, actually.” This was the first time he’s told anyone about his potential plan to leave school, and maybe it was a mistake admitting that to someone who could potentially end up running into his brother and spilling it all - but regardless of that possibility, it felt good finally admitting to someone just how little interest he had in getting his degree.

Sam hadn't been inside the dorm room he'd once found so familiar in over a year. The idea of returning had him nearly transported back to the first time he'd been invited: the same excitement began to turn his already pink cheeks what he assumed was the same red hue as the wine he'd been drinking before. "Okay," he agreed, "okay, yeah. Let's do that, 'cause I don't know who's gonna be at my house, y'know, after the party." He hoped it wasn't presumptuous, that they would need to be alone, but truly, the last thing he wanted was for Tink to see how little judgement he was about to exercise.

Sam began to walk in the direction of campus, his steps slow in the cold. "I, uh--I've been meaning to apologize, again, for what happened on Halloween. I just feel like I haven't gotten the chance to talk to you, y'know ... just the two of us, since then."

Another nod in agreement at the sentiment that it was better to avoid the lost boys’ house and whoever may be returning there once the night was through. “My roommate’s gone for the break anyway,” he finally admits, figuring it was better to say it now than wait for Sam to find out when they arrive at his empty dorm and think Michael had tricked him into being alone again. Because that was not the case, not at all. Yes, he wants to be alone with the other boy and do the sort of things they used to share together before a certain Tramp girl had come into their lives – but he’d never want to make Sam feel as if he were being pressured or manipulated in any way into anything at all.

As they walked towards the campus, which thankfully wasn’t too far, the last subject Michael would have ever expected to be used to fill the silent void was the fiasco of what had happened at Halloween. Though they had never talked about it beyond that night, he had assumed that was simply because it was in the past - what else was there to say really, anyway? Michael had messed up. Colette had messed up. And Sam was stuck in the middle of it all. It wasn’t exactly the most pleasant of conversation topics to be had. “You don’t have to apologize,” he promises, genuinely meaning it and not just trying to make the other boy feel better. “It was hardly your fault at all. I’m the one that’s sorry for well, everything. For saying those things to her, for dragging you into the middle of it again. You don’t deserve that.”

Claude counted out his share of tips and slid a stack of bills toward the boy, one of his first of the waiters’ cut. It had been hard to say no to someone who had genuinely wanted to take initiative to improve on his position at the restaurant. “Good. I can keep him on rotation, then: I thought he was quite good, too. I suppose he has to be to have the resume he does.” He shook his head at Michael, shaking off any concern. “Don’t worry about it. I hope I’m not, uh, overstepping here, or making any assumptions, but he is quite talented, and good looking, for your age,” Claude commented, raising a careful brow.

Though apparently his interest in the other boy had been more obvious than he had thought. “Oh, uhh… Yeah, I, uhm, I guess so,” he agrees with a nod, the warmth of a light blush filling his neck and face. For all he’s always sort of had small gut feelings that Claude himself was perhaps somewhere similar on the kinsey scale as himself, Michael had never had anything solid that could confirm or deny that possibility. Their relationship, while friendlier than some people were with their bosses, had always been fairly strictly professional - their personal lives never blending into any of their conversations in any real way. This was all new and he couldn’t quite tell if he was potentially going to be in trouble for it or not - despite the older man’s insistence that he not worry about the amount of time he’d spent at the piano that night. “I promise I wasn’t flirting with him, though. It was all professional, really. We just met in the break room before the shift started and he seemed really cool and yeah, like you said, good looking - but I never crossed a line. Or at least, I didn’t mean to. If he said I did, I’m really sorry.”

Berlioz wasn’t the biggest fan of casting big names just to draw people in, but he knew theatre was a business, and of course they had to pack the seats somehow. He’d just been lucky enough that neither Poppy nor Sharpay had been divas, really: they had both been committed to putting on the best performances they could. “Oui? Which ones did you see? I probably was working on it.” If he’d gone to college, Berlioz would probably have a job like this one, too: he didn’t want to turn his nose up at his potential new friend and be snobbish about it. “Do you like it? Are you in school, too, or have you graduated?” He could hear his mother’s voice in his head, how it was so rude to ask so many questions, but Berlioz hardly liked to talk about himself so much.

“Oh I love it here,” he confirms with a growing grin. That much was easy to admit. Even though there were hardly any people his own age or even slightly close to it working at the restaurant, Michael has always sort of felt like this group was a bit of a second, or third, family to him. It was easy to just be himself here, with no pressure to have any further ambitions in life - something he couldn’t so easily say about his actual blood family, no matter how much he loved them. “I’m in school too, though I’m still undeclared. Really, I put more of my focus on the job than my classes.” Which might not be the most impressive thing to admit, but well, it was the truth - and considering the boy also seemed to put an importance on his work, maybe he’d understand. “What about you? Have you already graduated?” The question was more a poking at how old he may be, rather than caring if he’s gone through all of his schooling.

"It did start out that way, yes." John was hesitant to admit that, fully feeling the shame in an answer like that. "I regret not coming home sooner, I should have been here when they decided to place down the barrier. But I can't say I regret leaving at all." There was a lot to learn when he was away from everyone, and if he was wrong in the assumption that it was not possible to learn the same things on the island then he'd be the first to admit those wrongs. However, from where he stood, it didn't seem like leaving was going to be on his list of regrets. "Being away helped me move on and grow up. I had a life out there, too, maybe not one that was as fun as whatever happened here but I liked what I had. And I chose to come back to be with all of you as soon as I found out I could."

“I don’t care that you didn’t tell us you were dating her,” he admits, that part of the confession seeming so insignificant in comparison to the rest. There would be a separate time to discuss his relationship with the fairy that was so hellbent on making life for their sister a living hell - right now he was too focused on the fact that he had left them all behind just because of a simple breakup. “You left us, all of us - me and Wendy - just because you were upset at Tink? You really went away for years, never seeing us and only calling from time to time, just because you were mad at a girl?” John had already confirmed all of this, but it was simply too much for Michael to really fully wrap his head around. “You know… Sam broke my heart. It physically hurts me to still be near him and see him so happy with his girlfriend. But I never once even considered leaving as an option. Our friends are here, our family is here. How could you just up and leave all of that so easily?” And that was the real question of the hour, the thought that had been ringing through his head nonstop since this entire conversation started.

Maybe it was the alcohol thinking for him, but the part of Sam that had wanted to address all of this head-on and clear the air once and for all, tonight. They'd spent the past two months avoiding each other: it was high time they finally spoke of what happened on Halloween. It wasn't exactly the time nor place, he knew that rationally, but the overwhelming itching feeling to just clear the air was getting to him. "D'you wanna, like ... I dunno, go talk, or something, somewhere?" he blurted in offering, his hands grasping his champagne flute tighter as he spoke. "I just feel like I need to get out of here, but I really don't want to alone, and ... I miss talking to you," Sam admitted, the words he'd been wanting to say for months, but had only found the lapse in judgement to now.

The offer to talk, to even get out of here and ditch the party entirely, is more than a bit of shock, given that they’ve barely spoken to each other since that dreaded night on Halloween. It’s probably not the smartest move, agreeing to leave with Sam of all people, both for his own mental sake and for how it might look if anyone else spotted them… But Michael finds he can’t bring himself to care enough to say no. Which may be the alcohol’s fault or the simple fact that he struggled to ever deny the other boy anything. “Yeah, yeah. We can leave,” he agrees, praying he doesn’t come across as too eager. Though he knows there’s a good chance talking things over might only make things worse, the even slimmest possibility of it fixing things between them makes the risk completely worth it. Plus, he really was hating this night so far anyway. “My dorm isn’t too far, if you want to go there.” He leaves out that his roommate was off the island on holiday with his family, not wanting to seem like he was presuming anything by pointing out the fact that they’d be alone - even if it was a selling factor that made him suggest his own place over the lost boys’ house.

The easiest answer was to drink, which was exactly what Sam was going to do when the champagne was free. Strangely enough, he'd spent a decent amount of time with Oliver Smee, of all people, who had apparently become simpatico with the group since Tink had deemed him date-worthy. Stranger things had happened, many of which had unfolded over the past two months, so he couldn't really judge too harshly. He actually didn't seem like the worst guy in the world, either, which was surprising given whose company he kept, and who he worked for.

As the evening wound down, Sam begun to search the crowd for a reliable ride home, though it seemed all of his friends had otherwise been coupled up or staying the night. A ride home alone wasn't the worst fate he could possibly face, but he would be damned if he had to find one after watching everyone in the vicinity suck each other's faces at midnight. He was about to say his goodbyes, his eyes on a rideshare app when he instead heard a hello, coming from a boy who he didn't think he'd be speaking to this evening, much less striking a conversation. "Michael," he blurted, exchanging an awkward greeting of his own. There was no use in lying, as he instinctively set his empty flute down in favor of a full one. "Shitty," Sam confessed simply, offering a weak smile. "I hope yours is going better than that. At least there's free drinks."

“I didn’t think you’d be here tonight,” he admits with a small shrug. He has a feeling Sam wasn’t here of his own accord and one of the boys or Tink likely dragged him to the party, but he refrains from asking if that’s true as well out of fear of seeming like he’s prying. It wasn’t his business why the other boy had decided to attend tonight’s event anyway. Or at least, that’s what Michael tried to remind himself. It was hard sometimes, knowing just where they stood anymore, and the events of Halloween certainly hadn’t made it any easier. The already awkward footing he had stood on around the boy now seemed far more dangerous, like one wrong move would have him tumbling into the end of their entire friendship.

It was, for those reasons, even harder to defend her. Sam didn’t quite know how to invalidate Michael’s intense feelings of detestation for her as he might’ve felt them, too, if someone who the other boy was dating had said those words to him. It only made him sadder, to think that there was no reconciling the deep rift between Colette and his friends. “I’m sorry,” he managed, standing still in place as his temper slowed to a stop. All he could think to do was sit in this room forever, or cry, or wish he had someone impartial around to give him all the answers to this impossible problem he faced. "Please don't say that to her face," he requested quietly, though if Michael had wanted to, Sam didn't have much ground to stand on his only ask. "I--I'll talk to her. Just let me talk to her, please, before the others find out."

Attending a giant island wide party wasn’t exactly how Michael wanted to spend his New Years Eve, in complete honesty. He hasn’t had the best of luck at gatherings like this lately - almost every event ending in some form of heartache - but the rest of the Darling clan were all in attendance, and he refused to be the one to ruin the mood. His mother and older sister for certain would be worried for him if he sat out and decided to spend the holiday at home on his own. So here he was. At a fancy hotel he never in his life would likely be able to afford to stay, feeling like shit and sneaking as many glasses of champagne as he could from the waiters walking by who couldn’t be bothered to care how old he was.

It was getting closer to midnight, the new year right on the horizon, and all he wanted was to go back to his dorm and curl up under his blankets. Sure, he’d had fun spending time with his friends - but everyone was starting to couple up now, getting ready for the countdown that would lead to their new years kiss. And Michael was alone, more so than he’d ever been in his life. The thought of trying to find a random guy, or hell even a girl, to partake in the tradition with just for the sake of not being left out had crossed his mind a few times but had easily been dismissed as a bad idea. There was only one guy he really wanted to be kissing tonight, but that wasn’t an option anymore - hadn’t been for a long while, actually.

Dowing the last of the champagne in his current flute, he closes his eyes for a moment or two, just to regather himself and start accepting that this was going to be his fate. But the thought doesn’t last long, considering when his eyes reopened there stood the very boy he had just been trying to push away from his mind. “Sam,” he startles, blinking a few times to ensure he wasn’t somehow drunker than he thought and imagining things. When nothing changes after that, it becomes clear this is really happening. “Hi. Hey.” Very articulate, very smooth he thinks to himself, feeling like the biggest loser in the world. “How are you, uhh, how are you doing tonight?”

Frustrated, Sam began to pace the length of Phil's room. There was no point in going downstairs without all the information he could have from Michael's side before asking for his girlfriend's. He knew he shouldn't have placed them in the same vicinity of one another, let alone a party where either could roam free like this. "I know she can be ... abrasive sometimes, but it's not like everyone's made it easy for her. No one's ever given her a chance because ... you know why. And, I'm not saying you ever had to, but no one has. So, yeah, I'm sorry if it seems like she doesn't really fit in, but no one's ever made room for her, either."

But before he can answer, Sam is already pacing the room and trying to give what felt like a half-assed excuse as for why Colette might have said any of the things that she had. “Abrasive? Is that what you call her?” he finds himself asking, his own temper starting to rise as this continues to snowball from just a simple discussion into a borderline fight. “Sam, no one likes her because she’s a bitch. I don’t think she’s ever said one kind word to any of the boys - what are they supposed to do with that?” Shaking his head, Michael takes a few steps forward to stand in front of the other boy, cutting off his pacing. “You want to know what she said? She was making fun of me, for liking you so much - for thinking that we had been anything serious. That is far more than just being abrasive, and you know it.”