It all started with a Michael.

 When Mickey commented about the cereal again, Donny nodded, a sign of ‘good’. “Wouldn’t take you for the type anyhow, but it’s nice to hear it,” he replied. “Oh, yeah, that’s me usually…Unless my roommate is around, please don’t ever get near me if you see me annoying a tall guy in all black.” After all, he didn’t need Mick around two explosive tempers at once, it might send him into shock. “Ah, I don’t think it’s too hot. It feels nice. I’d already have to be in jackets if I was back home…And just reading a classic.” Absently, he showed the cover to his friend. “Ever read it?”

Mickey raised his brow at how adamant Donny seemed to be about his distaste for his roommate. He couldn’t even name someone off the top of his head that he felt remotely similar towards. “Duly noted, once again. You two sound like quite the fireworks show, so I’ll do my best to stay out of the quarrels.” Mickey murmured cautiously with a soft chuckle as he snuggled his back up against the bark of the tree in an effort to get comfortable, despite how rough its texture was. “Well, when you’ve been living here as long as I have, you too would be on the brink of doing sit up against an open fridge for some cool air. I’ll be a bit more chipper when November rolls around.” Stopping for a moment, he squinted his eyes at the cover, trying to to recall it to his mind. “Hm. Nope. Can’t say I have. Care for a spark notes retelling? I do love a good story.”

 When Donny noticed that the person who had decided to invade his space was Mick, he visibly relaxed, and even grinned. No threat of being annoying unless he got too optimistic, which was nice. “Oh, that’s just my usual setting, you would be running away if you got to the stage where someone fucked with my cereal,” he laughed. “Wanna pull up some shade, you look like you ran the Olympics against Usain Bolt…”

Seeing the other’s expression soften and ease up caused Mickey to do the same, even though it wasn’t much of a stretch for him to do so. “Duly noted. I won’t ever tamper with your cereal of choice. Though how someone would is beyond me at this point. But, nevertheless, I consider myself awfully lucky to find you at a neutral state at the very least.” He teased as he bent his knees to reach the ground, sharing the same shady spot under the branches and leaves next to a friend. It was a small moment that he made the mental note to appreciate. “Can you blame? This blistering heat has got me feeling so a wet towel needing to be wrung out.” He stated as wiped a bead of sweet from his neck, the individual drops flying off. “And what might you be doing this fine day?”

Jane was wiping the water off her arms when she heard the voice. She looked up and noticed Mickey, a small smile gracing her features. With a little shake of her head, the brunette tried to laugh but it came out very weakly. “Thank you. I truly appreciate it. It’s just… one of those days filled with bad luck, you know? Perhaps tomorrow will be a better day.” While she did believe that she was more of a realist than a optimistic or even a pessimistic, she did have a sense of hope about things. If she were to have a day filled with bad luck, such as today, then that should mean that the next day should be a day filled with good luck. “It’s lovely to meet you, Mickey. I’m Jane. Your kindness has honestly been helpful enough, truly. Not a lot of strangers would do that.”

Watching Mickey struggle should not have been as entertaining to Thomas as it clearly was. The redhead stood a safe distance away and with good reason too, the way things were progressing it wouldn’t be long before the man hurt himself or someone else. Thomas winced when he heard the string snap, the thin pieces of wire flailing around like a broken limb. He took a moment to collect himself, forcing his face into a more neutral expression, before he strolled over and plopped himself in the dirt beside the stump. “Havin’ a hard time figuring out whether you’re playing it or if it’s playing you.” 

He watched Mickey restring the instrument with one brow arched, withholding any comments about his technique and the string tension. Any and all advice he could possibly give the other man was based on his experience playing the guitar. The truth was he’d never even seen a lute before, In fact, he didn’t even know that it was called a lute. “String company’s gonna make a nice chunk of change off of you if you keep on like that.” 

Hearing the footsteps approach, Mickey felt as though he shouldn’t have been surprised at the snappy quip that followed it. He didn’t know whether to smile or roll his eyes. With Thomas, though, he felt as though he had to do both or else he’d be doing the male’s quick wit a disservice. “And it’s wonderful to see you too, Thomas. Always a pleasure.” He replied, a sigh trailing his words while a small and tired smile did it’s best to tug on the corners of his lips to show that he was actually happy to see the redhead. As per usual. “Look, it’s hard, alright? Have you ever played an instrument that’s pretty much been out of practice for the last couple of centuries?”

Of course he could feel the other’s gaze on his hands which clutched the instrument, ready to snap it in half. Immediately, as if on instinct, he became fidgety and nervous; the last thing he wanted was for someone who actually knew what he was doing when it cam to musical instruments to silently critique his form. So, in an effort to avoid a conversation that had yet to happen, he huffed a small breath of relief as he set the damn thing down, turning to Thomas. “Well, a boy’s gotta do what a boy’s gotta do. If I have to buy a million strings, so be it. I just wanna better myself. But, anyways, as always, I feel like we’ve already talked about myself too long. How’s the faire treating you, O’malley? Slain any dragons yet?”

By this point, Ariel was sure she’d been to all of the booths of the Ren Faire and back — she’d been so excited for the event that she’d managed to breeze through all of them within the first few days. It was like she was living off a personal high, and she wasn’t crashing down any time soon. (And at least, she hoped she didn’t.)

As she came across a man sitting on a tree stump, his angry exclamation was enough to make her jump. She’d simply been walking through the crowd, on the search for something to do, but now she was curious. Hesitantly, she stepped closer towards him, eyebrows furrowed in question. “Are you okay?” she whispered.

Honestly, the whisper was almost completely drowned out in the sea of noise, whether it be from the clanking of metal armored suits or the yelling of people who clearly needed to take a break from drinking at the pub. However, she was just close enough to him that it managed to fall on his fears. Perking a brow, Mickey continued to fiddle with the old thing as if his carefully working digits had a mind all their own.

“Ariel!” Micky exclaimed. Seeing someone after so long did nothing less but warm his heart and raise his spirits. “Me? Aw, I’m fine. Honest. It’s just this stupid thing is giving me just about the hardest time.” Mickey stated, holding the lute up by its handle as if it were the most pathetic trophy. “If I can manage to fix it and perfect the notes within the hour I’ll be able to perform some stuff I wrote an-” His words were cut short when the light bulb finally lit up over his head. “Wait! Ariel, did you just talk?” It had just dawned on him that it was his first time hearing her voice, albeit very softly.

It would have been all too easy to mistake Mickey as a well-dressed jester. From a safe distance away, Eric watched the man struggling with his instrument, every bit as colorful and animated as a cartoon character. Pressing his lips together to keep a smile at bay, he approached, nervously fiddling with the wooden recorder, a spur of the moment purchase, in his hands. 

“You could probably get one of them to help you restring it,” he said, finally allowing the smile to spread across his lips, “The older gentleman at the booth is incredibly friendly, he helped me with this.” He held up the instrument in his hand. The first time he’d tried to put the thing together, he’d nearly broke it. Turned out that new recorders needed to be balmed before connecting the neck piece to the rest of the body. The man had taught him how to do it and even gave him a small tin of the stuff for free. 

Mickey was just about ready to chuck the damn thing. He swore that the lute was much more trouble than it was worth. After all the practicing he ha done up until that point was practically all for not if all it did was snap every time he went to strum a chord. But, sighing softly he knew he simply couldn’t throw in the towel solely on his impatience. Just as he was getting into the nitty gritty of it all, the overtly large feather drooped in his face, to which he frustratingly blew it from his face.

Emily had been watching the poor guy fiddle with his lute more than once. She couldn’t help it; he wasn’t bad at playing it, but he seemed to move just a little too fast for the poor instrument to keep up with. She couldn’t help but giggle, walking over to him with a certain grace that years of dance helped her poerfect, even if she stumbled every so often.

“Do you need some help? You play beautifully for someone so enthusiastic. Are you new to using it?” She thought he was an actor for the Faire but maybe he just had a really good costume. “I would love to dance to your playing…That’s why I was asking.”

Having to replace an entire string in the already overly complex instrument was just about driving Mickey nuts, but he wanted to get better at it seeing as he wanted to perform his original plays set to music, much like how bards back in the day would do the same. After all, he had to completely immerse himself in the atmosphere of the time or else what was the point? “Hm?” Mickey asked, taking a moment before peering up.

“Aw, I’ve got it, thanks. It may be annoying beyond all good reason, but I think I’m getting better and inevitably having to re-string this bad boy. I’ve been fiddling with it for a couple of weeks, actually, just for the faire.” Chuckling softly, Mickey nodded his head at her request. “Of course! You’re just gonna have to grant me a minute or two to actually fix this old thing.”

“Damn,” He muttered under his breath, trying to morph his fingers into some weird claw shape to strum the desired chord. Though, when he achieved it, his enthusiasm was too much for the frail instrument, inevitably snapping one of the strings. “Aw, c’mon!” Mickey grumbled as he began changing the strings on the lute for the fifth time that day.

Oliver wasn’t the nerdiest guy but the renaissance faire did seem extremely interesting, seeing all the knights and their weapons, joust was an exciting thought. He was tempted to dress up like a knight, the chainmail and all but being a peasant would just have to do. Anyways it was way too hot to be in all that metal armor, he pitied the workers who had to live in those for their job. Oliver watched as the man he’d walked up to who was putting up posters for the same renaissance that he’d just joked about, either ignored his joke or just didn’t understand it completely. It happened a lot, especially when you walk up to a stranger with a pun, they might be too confused as to why you’re talking to them to get the joke. The boy chuckled as the man responded with a long sentence about safety, telling him to be careful and to look into wearing a suit of armor just to be sure. He shook his head, his smile more natural now. “No no.. I meant it like a joke cause like mace the pepper spray and mace the weapon, you get it?”

Once Mickey had finished pinning up the last poster he held in his digits, he turned to give the other his full attention and understand why exactly he was worried about being hurt by a mace of all things. He figured most people would have the common knowledge to not handle the big weapons unless they were professionals. However, when he understood that he was seemingly the butt of the joke that he didn’t understand initially, Mickey felt a twinge of embarrassment surge within him. Face flushing a bright scarlet, Mickey chuckled nervously and shook his head with a dismissive wave of his hand. “O-Oh, I see now! That’s funny, actually! Rather creative too, I gotta say. Forgive me, I just have a lot on my mind right now. All I’ve been able to think about lately is the faire so that one just went right over my head.” It was a solid enough excuse and it was far better than admitting he wasn’t the quickest when it came to understanding jokes on the fly. “I take it you’ll be in attendance as well? It’s gonna be loads of fun, after all.”

“Here, allow me.” Lumiere said it instead of asking, taking a bag from the man. Alright, so the part of him that had been a bellhop for a summer hadn’t left him entirely, but surely that couldn’t be a bad thing. Plus, he liked helping people, even if they hadn’t asked. After all, he helped Adam out all the time! “And please do not argue with me, copain, you don’t have a choice.” All the while, his smile stayed in place.

“No, it’s fi-” Though his protests were instantly cut short when the blonde took action and swept a bag from his digits, he couldn’t help but feel relieve in his palm when it wasn’t straining any longer. “Well, I can’t say that I’ve been held hostage when it comes to someone doing a good deed for me, so that’s a first.” Mickey noted lightheartedly, a smile joining a shake of the head. “Fine, if you insist upon being a good Samaritan for the day, you might as well come on up to my room. But, I have to warn you, it’s on the fifth floor. I foresee a whole lot of walking in your future.” Micky jested, as he immediately took off towards the steps, hoping the other would understand to follow. 

For a moment Adam dared to hope that Mickey would turn down his offer, though it was a force of habit more than anything else. The man spent a majority of his time all on his own and had done so for all his life. Even when he was forced to attend boarding school, surrounded by hundreds of boys his age, he kept himself safely locked away in the comfort of his own dorm with only the protagonists of his latest read to keep him company. He could count the number of friends he had on one hand and from them, there was really only one that he actually cared for. Adam glanced up at the sound of Mickey’s voice, arching a thick black brow, his head naturally falling to one side. He’d expected the boy to mull it over, to hem and haw like businessmen and socialites did when they were invited out by people they didn’t know or particularly like. It’s what he would’ve done. “A favor,” Adam repeated with a slow hesitant nod. He knew what the word meant, of course, he was as well-versed in English as he was in his mother tongue ─ but the word ‘favor’ still felt foreign. He was the son of one of France’s richest and most powerful man, destined to be rich and powerful himself someday, a favor was never really just a favor. Everyone came to collect eventually. He listened to the rest of Mickey’s shpeal, very quickly noting that all the boy’s rambling could be summed up in one simple word. Yes.

Adam rose to his feet, running his hands down the front of his shirt to help smooth any wrinkles from sitting. “There’s a pub a few miles down the road,” He replied as he for the door, “It’s not exactly known for its ambiance but alcohol taste tends to taste the same with or with tasteful decor.” Adam was a naturally a fast walker but he made a conscious effort to try to keep pace with Mickey as the two of them walked through the corridor. “I hope it’s safe to assume that you have a driver’s license and that it’s got your name on it  ─ what is your name?“

It was absolutely unprecedented for Mickey to do something strictly on impulse alone. Hell, it was practically the most absurd anomaly there was, but it was very much like him to do things for the betterment of other’s and to see them happy, so that was how he chose to justify it in his own head. Mickey even took to his feet quicker than he had expected. Part of him believed that being Adam’s chauffeur for the night would inevitably aid him in forgetting about his parents for a little bit, buy him some more time to run from his problems rather than actually address them. Sure, it wasn’t necessarily the best option, but he could always go back to his childhood home whenever his parents were back in town and have a little one on two with them. But, for tonight, he was going to be the best designated driver that Adam had ever seen and he was going to make sure that the other man got back home safe and sound, despite not knowing him at all. Fishing for his keys in his pocket, he was thankful for once that he always kept the lump of metal that always poked into his thighs in his pocket at all time, even when he wasn’t necessarily planning on driving. Better to be safe than sorry, after all.

As the two headed down the hallway, Mickey perked a brow and tilted his head’s direction towards Adam to signify that he was listening. “Hey, I’ll take you wherever you fancy most. If it’s a dingy little dive bar, I have no gripes.” Mickey was in no position to judge since he was most likely going to spend his night in his own room, crying over films that would only aid in him crying even more. “You would be right in your assumption. I’m not about to go and drive around town without a license. That’d be a little silly.” Mickey led the two out of the building and into the compound’s parking lot to where he clicked a button on his keys, his car beeping in accordance a walk away. “My name is Mickey Windsor. You can even check my license if it so pleases you. I promise I am not lying.” He confirmed as he lead the other man to his Volkswagen beetle, silver body with red fabric convertible top. Suffice to say, it screamed Mickey. “After you,” He offered, opening up the passenger door for his passenger for the night.

Derek opened his mouth with full intention to contradict Mickey’s statement. He had no idea what it was really like to have an overbearing mother. She was like an octopus, one of her long slimy tentacles in every aspect of his life. She wanted to know where he was and what he was doing every hour of every day, she wanted to help choose his friends and his girlfriend. When he was younger he had no choice but to let her dictate everything but as he got older he started to hide things from her and lie to her just so he could do something for himself. She had been dead set against him applying for the astra initiative, so he did without her permission. She had begged him not to give up his trust fund, even temporarily, but all that money came with strings attached. He wanted a chance to be normal, to know what it felt like to earn something. It was difficult to break some of his old habits, he was used to getting whatever he wanted or needed with just a swipe of a credit card, but he was trying, truly. Listening to Mickey talk about his parents missing his graduations was sad, Derek could tell from his body language and tone of voice that it still bothered him to this day. “Sometimes people let you down, it’s inevitable,” Derek added with a shrug. Not that he’d know, not really. The only person who’d ever missed anything important to him was his father and it’s not like he could be mad at the man for getting dying. “Well, if you want to stay here and wallow, fine. I guess I’ll just sit right over here and watch.” He plopped himself on the sofa and sighed a long dramatic sigh, “Make it interesting at least. Throw yourself and kick your legs around.” He waved a dismissive hand in Mickey’s general direction and rolled his dark blue eyes. “We can literally do whatever the hell we want,” Derek replied with another shrug, “No parents, no curfew, more money than any of us will ever actually need.” He leaned his head against the back of the couch and looked up at the ceiling, “Isn’t there something you’ve always wanted to do that you didn’t because your parents wouldn’t approve? Let’s do that.” 

Mickey came to the conclusion that Derek didn’t know what it was like to live with parents who were so completely absent that you almost completely forgot about them until they showed up every other week or so. And he couldn’t very well blame him either; growing up with the exact opposite couldn’t have been very easy either, never having a moment to one’s self and practically feeling controlled rather than cared for. He could understand it for what he imagined it’d be like, but it was a classic case of wanting to see how the other half lived. It was human nature, after all. But, even after weighing in the pros and cons of living with an overbearing parent versus living with nonexistent ones, he would take Derek’s situation in a heartbeat, even though it was by far an ideal one. But, if he could have avoided a childhood of always being alone with his brother and no one else because of how much their parents wanted to protect them from the outside world, then he would have. “I guess,” Mickey responded in a similar detached tone of voice, his eyes sort of glancing in not direction in particular. “But, those people shouldn’t be your parents and if anything, they should let you down the least. Ideally, that is.” Mickey added quietly, trying to think of what his life would be like if his parents had played more of an active role as opposed to disembodied beings that helped him out financially from somewhere in the world. “Look, I don’t want to wallow. I don’t think anyone willingly wants to wallow in their own self-pity, but I don’t initially feel like I have any other options!” Sure, his words sounded cryptic and vague, but he was positive Derek would understand if the shoe were on the other foot. Taking a moment to catch his breath, he took to thinking about something he was never allowed to do as a child and came up somewhat short. “To tell you the truth, there’s not much. Hard to have rules you wanna break when there aren’t parents to set them. Lemme think,” And then it hit him. “Drive!” He said as if the light bulb above his head had shattered. “When I was sixteen, my parents gave me a car and told me I could drive wherever I wanted as long as it was in the city. No exceptions. Let’s get in the car and drive somewhere!” It sounded silly and was rather unlike him, but it was a start.