#animates

Lifting his hand to his face, he winces as the sunlight beams down on him. Sitting up suddenly, he stares at the window, and then the blackout blinds on the floor. He glanced down at his skin, seeing it looking a little rashy, “No!” Shooting out of bed, he jumped off the edge, landing on the floor, grabbed the blinds and moved to quickly place them back over the window, only to find the entire fixture had been torn off the wall. Dumbfounded, he stares up at the part of the wall above the window, “I'm going to have to plaster that up... Ugh.” Growling under his breath, he threw the blinds to the floor. What was even happening with his life?! Everything seemed to be falling apart. Or, systematically being ruined. He couldn't even figure out why or who he might have messed with, to even deserve this. But after having that thought, he realized he was just looking for anything to blame his clearly decaying mental state on.

Turning away from the window, Bellamy set his mind to getting ready for the day, bringing his left hand over to scratch at the patches of skin that were reacting badly to the direct sunlight he had had, who knows how long he had been under, a while by what he could tell by how bad he had already been reacting. After he got ready for the day, he moved from the bathroom, dropping his dirty clothes into a clothes hamper by the exit of the bathroom as he did. Slipping on something on the floor, but keeping himself upright, he glared, “I'm so sick of- what, even the hell, is that!” He whispered harshly, turning to look at the dark splatter on the floor. Even after cleaning it up, it still managed to seep back into spaces all over his house!

Moving outside, he locked up his house and made his way to the truck he usually drove when shopping for things. He might as well finish what he had set out to do before crossing paths with...what was that guy's name? Emilio? Yeah. Him. A few days earlier.

After some minutes, he pulled into a parking space, quickly getting out of his car, and suddenly realized he had forgotten his damn umbrella. This day was just not his day, either. Lifting his right hand, he shielded his face from the sun with it and scratched a little at his chest with his left hand as he moved toward the store. Moving inside, he made his way to where they had the plastering, still itchy and scratching, “Mmm.” Focused on what he was trying to find, he stepped back, only to bump into someone. “Sorry,” Bellamy muttered, still looking at the shelves.

—

After an overnight shift, Mickey didn’t want to do much aside from crawl into bed immediately. Unfortunately, home was not the destination in Mickey’s future today. At least not the one he paid rent for. His mom had talked him into picking something up for her and bringing it over. He was tempted through the unofficial promise of breakfast. Plus, he knew how comfy their couch was. He could always crash there for a few hours.

“I’m pretty sure she’s planning on remodeling the entire room.” Mickey detailed while the worker lead him down the aisles to try to help Mickey find what he was looking for. “It used to be my bedroom, so I did take it a little personally. But to be fair, they did tell me I could use the guest room at any time. I feel like some of the magic is lost in that though, you know?” The worker smiled politely and nodded, unknowingly egging Mickey on. “I guess it’s dumb to complain about that regardless, considering. Especially since I’m out here helping her buy the supplies that will eventually remodel my childhood. Or half of my childhood anyways. You see,  I was adopted-” Mickey was interrupted when he accidentally bumped into someone else in the aisle. “Oh shoot, sorry!” Mickey apologized, turning back to finish his story with the worker only to find that the man had already long escaped. If this had been a cartoon, Mickey could almost picture the clouded silhouette dissipating as the worker sped away.

Mickey would have been disappointed about being left alone, if he had actually been left alone. “Morning! Sorry for almost running you over. I got distracted chatting with the worker. Who was not nearly as distracted as me, apparently.” he waved at the stranger in the aisle with him, “You remodeling or something?”

—

Summer was a difficult time for him, but any time the sun was clear and beaming down brightly, it was a pretty harsh day on his skin. Bellamy, however, in summer, either had to pick between comfort and risk of heat exhaustion, or discomfort from his allergy to the big bright ball in the sky that very clearly hated him. Today, he had picked the sun, and not the risk of heat exhaustion. Wearing summery clothing, thin materials, exposed arms and legs. His fingers dug a bit into that material as he continued to scratch. Though stepping back and bumping into Mickey, that spurred a faint, different feeling. His mouth watered a little for a moment.

Though blinking away the strange feeling, he realized the person he had bumped into was talking. Turning his head, he felt nothing of that strange feeling. Bellamy stood, quiet, listening to the man speak, “Ah-” He frowned a bit, not judgingly, it was just his face, at times. Listening still as Mickey continued to talk, waiting for his chance to say anything. Bellamy raised his eyebrows when, just after a moment, he could, “No I-” Turning his head a bit, he didn't see anyone, it seemed they were invisible, didn't exist, or had made a hasty escape. Bellamy wanted to believe the second. But, resigned to know it was the third option, “Yeah. Guess not.”

When asked what he was doing, he turned his head back to the plaster and shook his head slightly, “Something like that.” Bringing his left hand up to the rash between his shoulder and neck, he scratched a little at it, gesturing his right hand toward the plaster shelf, “Had a little incident with some blinds this morning. I guess the old house needs a better remodel.” He wasn't extraordinarily wealthy. So, things he was doing to bring the house back to life when he could were slow-going. Though it was still a pretty big house, it was quite old, and plenty of it had needed way more than a little TLC.

Bellamy reached over toward one brand, turning it over to read information on it, “Overheard you saying something about your childhood being remodeled?” And of being adopted, but he figured that wasn't something to bring up when he didn't know the guy. The plaster, he stared at, thinking to himself about how it didn't matter which brand he moved, he was just going to redo the room later anyway, and only needed to temporarily fix the wall so he could hang his blackout curtains up long enough to get to that point. Then, sighing, he dropped his head back a little, annoyed at how, when he got home, he should rearrange the room. But then, quickly realized how pointless that was, whatever was going on with him was likely not to like that. Maybe the house was haunted by ghosts, he considered amusing himself,“-aunted Mansion... of course-” Making a clicking noise, he continued to scratch, then looked at Mickey, “You used to put those glow in the dark stars on your ceiling?”

—

Mickey had already spotted what he had needed. If he were following what his body was trying to tell him, he’d grab the item, politely excuse himself and then rush out of the store so that he could pass the items off to his mom, assist in whatever she needed and then finally get some sleep. He really wanted sleep right now. But instead, he had found company in a new person and wanted to see where this conversation would go. Even if in between his eyes might stay closed a little longer than normal during a blink. 

“I hope you won the battle at least.” If he was buying plaster then Mickey could only assume that the blinds were not doing too well. “But I do love a good remodel. I get bored of things quickly, so gotta shake things up.” He paused to let out a long yawn and wiping the tears that formed in his eyes before he spotted the rash that was on the guy’s neck, “Hey are you okay? Is that new?”

There was no surprise that the man had overheard Mickey speak. Volume control wasn’t one of Mickey’s greater strengths. “Oh yeah. They kept the room for me through college and med school, but I think they’ve finally realized that I’m not moving back in. I think they’re just happy that I stayed local. So I get to pick up supplies and take over to my mom to figure out exactly what my room is being turned into. I hope it’s at least something fun, like a yoga studio.” Seemed like a waste a space personally, but wasting space was exactly the sort of thing the Hartmann’s spent their money on. “Mmm. No stars that I can remember. I was never a huge fan. Always made me feel so small. I guess that helps some people, but I never really liked that feeling. But, ever since they adopted me, my parents let me remodel my room whenever I wanted to.” At first, the feeling was incredible. Suddenly knowing that there was no limit to the money. His only limit was his imagination, which had never failed him. He could have practically anything he wanted. But he quickly grew uncomfortable at the thought, and that feeling had stuck to this day. “I changed a few things around, but mostly kept with a hockey theme. What about you, what vibes are you thinking when you get around to remodeling?”

—

“The battle, but not the war, so far.” He offered a small grin, nodding his head lightly. Though he went back to staring at the items on the shelf after briefly looking at Mickey when he spoke. Bellamy exhaled, “Might need to redo the whole window frame eventually, the whole fixture fell off, which is why I'm getting plaster.” It was definitely not going to solve the problem. But it was a temporary solution. He nodded when Mickey continued, “Trying to update it here and there, but keep kind of the same sort of aesthetic it had back in its heyday.” Bellamy informed a little more.

He blinked, looking toward Mickey then, quirking an eyebrow up for a moment, “I think I am the same, sometimes. I don't like to sit still.” He replies. Noticing the other was yawning and did seem to be pretty tired, he frowned. Maybe he could relate in a way. He was often tired. Though he imagined the others' tiredness was not from night terrors, and whatever the hell else was happening to him on top of that, “Long night, uh, working?” He decided to ask, keeping it normal, keeping it casual. But the question of whether he was okay and if his rash was new had him shaking his head, “Well, no, and yes. This one, today, yeah? The sun hates me, which is why-” Gesturing toward the plaster shelf, “I need blinds on the windows.”

“Did they? That's pretty cool of them.” His caretakers didn't even bother with decorating his room. A bed, a desk to study at, along with things that he needed to learn, was good enough. So, hearing in the following moment that they did not have glowing stars on their ceiling, and the reason why, he nodded, wanting to frown. But figured that was childish to do. “That's good, you're being helpful.” Bellamy eventually says, still listening to Mickey talk, “Yeah. I never had anything like that either. I went to school with some kids who did, though.” He thought it was cool, though.

Bellamy continued to observe the plaster in his hands, then raised his eyebrows, “You were adopted?” He had never been adopted before he was always told no one had wanted him, and so, he was permanently left in the care of the people who worked for the children's home. Bellamy slightly frowned at this, “Into a rich family, too? That's really lucky.” Offering a smile just as quickly as the frown had appeared, he emphasized a little more warmth on his end in the way he held himself, despite any other feeling, “My room was always full of toys and books. But not a lot of remodeling. The walls were always gray.”

At the end of what Mickey was saying, Bellamy nodded as he listened, “Really? I'm more of a baseball kind of person, myself. I usually hit some balls out by my house for fun. But, I don't think hockey is bad! Uh-” He paused, thinking, then, “I'm going more with a modern update, but keep in older looking, some browns, some greens, maybe even a flowery wallpaper, here and there.”

—

“At least remodeling projects can be kinda fun sometimes?” Mickey tried to offer something positive in the wake of the poor news about the home’s frame. He wasn’t naive, remodeling was almost always more of a headache than a fun challenge. Not everyone had the seemingly unlimited funds and access to help like Mickey’s parents did. “I don’t know shit about remodeling, but if you ever need assistance let me know and I can at least provide entertainment.” Mickey offered, realizing quickly after that the two hadn’t even exchanged names. From his experience meeting others, they generally wanted to know names before inviting people over to their homes, “Oh! I’m Mickey, by the way.” He shifted his bag and decaf around in his hands so that he could offer his out to the stranger.

“Then you get it! Yeah, I’ve always got to be on the move. I think Hockey used to help me burn a lot of energy. Without having that all the time I’ve been forced to find new outlets. And that mostly means by annoying people.” Another yawn escaped, and Mickey found himself snickering at the man’s comment, “You’ve caught me at a rare time. I’m usually a lot more energetic than this. But yeah, just got off the night shift at the hospital.” The hospital served as a perfect sequeway into the rash that Mickey was currently studying. Apparently the sun hated him? An odd thing to claim, especially in a town where Mickey vampires were a thing. “That’s very Twilight of you. Besides the sparkly part. Does it bother you a lot? I could take a look at it.” The idea of putting his doctor’s cap back on wasn’t appealing to Mickey, but he could get into character as needed.

A range of emotions seemed to cross Bellamy’s face. Someone familiar with the system, maybe? At least tangentially. “Yeah. Weird circumstances, honestly. But I think it ended up working out for the best. I got a really cool sister out of the deal, at least.” Mickey often found himself downplaying just how lucky he had been that day. How much something so small had completely changed his life. He knew it too. Knew how different things could have been. But talking it up just made him picture those last few months at the group home as he realized that the life he had been forced into was getting ready to change. It had been a good feeling for the most part, except for knowing that his time with his closest friend there would be coming to an end. Once he had realized it he found it hard to be as positive as he was about the adoption. It always felt like bragging. “At least you covered the essentials with the toys and books. Anything after that feels pointless.”

Any chance at a sport had mostly been ruined after his parent’s death. Mickey’s injuries hadn’t been bad enough that he couldn’t recover, but there was no way his body could handle professional or even college level sports. Getting involved felt like setting himself up for disappointment knowing it couldn’t go anywhere. “I can get behind any sport that offers a fun time. Hockey was just always my passion. Something about the fast pace and feeling like you’re gliding across the ice. Oh! And the cold. I love the cold.” Mickey was trying to picture the remodel, not an easy feat when he had no idea what the house even looked like. Luckily, he had a vivid imagination. “I think I can see the vision. In my mind it’s a really beautiful house, by the way. You have great taste.”

—

Bellamy's eyebrows raised at that comment, then, nodding, he grinned a little, “Yeah. At times.” He tried not to be pessimistic about a lot of things. But, more often than not, his mind refused to allow him that. His moments of not being such an exhaust on others were brief, he felt. Or maybe he was noticing them, and that was why he often pushed others away in the end. More so recently, because something was wrong, he didn't know what. He imagined for the most part it was all mental. He was finally starting to break down, from his isolation, pushing others away, his long bouts of exhaustive pedanticness. Which made it easy not to see his positive sides. Bellamy bites on his lips as Mickey spoke on, offering to help. He gasped, “Ah-” A slight pinch of pain, and whatever he was saying was met with an excited, “Yes! I will-” Blinking, “Consider!” Showing his teeth briefly, he laughed under his breath.

“Lovely to meet you, Mickey! I'm Bellamy.” He introduced himself, moving the plaster product from one hand to the other, then reaching his free hand out toward the other, for a handshake. Which was, so normal, to do! Bellamy swallowed thickly before frowning as he noticed the others shifting their items, and then took the other's extended hand, shaking it. Then returned his hand to himself. He missed that, having people around. But he was worried too much about too much! Especially hurting other people, from what was going on. The blank spaces of his mind and smatters of blood at times not helping him feel safe.

Bellamy listened as Mickey continued, smiling still, he nodded his head. Holding the plastering between his hands again. The other did come off as someone who had loads of energy, he could tell. Bellamy could have related if he hadn't been ruined. At least, that's what he felt, he was a spirited person, of course. But the nightmares and night terrors had worn him down more than any sport. Lately, that has gotten worse, more frequent lately. His body felt like it was doing more than he could even remember, even. “I understand that. I have my hands in so many hobbies these days.” He huffed, amused as he said this, “I can relate to that. I think I annoy a lot of people, myself. It's like, I can't help myself. By just being me, I annoy someone.”

He nodded as Mickey continued, quietly listening, before saying, “You work at the hospital? That's great. What do you do there?” Bellamy asked, curious about his new acquaintance's life. Then, as he was compared to Twilight vampires, he frowns a bit, “I'm no vampire.” Because they weren't real. Smiling awkwardly then, he lift his left hand from the plaster product, waving it a little, “I'm just- I have a sun allergy, is all. It'll be fine, after a day or so.” As long as he stopped getting exposed to direct sunlight, he thought to himself, glaring to one side.

“I suppose there are them sort of cases, huh? Weird circumstances leading to that.” He paused, his mind going back to the night his home was invaded, the faceless stranger stepping over his mother. Bellamy forced his mind to anything else, thinking of wandering the woods himself some years later when he ran away briefly from his caretakers. How oddly happy he was at that time, alone in the wilds around him. He smiles a little as Mickey speaks of his having toys, “Right. Yeah!” He responds, half in a chirp. Not having the heart to say the truth, it was likely to make the other give him pity. He didn't want it, nor did he feel he deserved it.

Bellamy lifted his eyebrows again, observing Mickey when the other also had gone quiet. Though he directed his attention away, his expression returned to a neutral one. As Mickey spoke, he frowned in thought, “I don't mind a chill, either.” Smiling, he looks at Mickey once more, giving an easy, friendly expression, then, “Never did any hockey, myself, though.” Reaching his left hand up, he scratched it behind his head as Mickey continued, before saying, “Well, if you ever turn up to entertain, you'll see for yourself, huh?” Moving his left hand from behind his head, he reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone, “Actually, I have an older picture-” He turned his phone to show the image of the house when he bought it, “That's what it looked like when I got it.”

—

Mickey was suddenly getting a sense of deja vu. He wasn’t sure when it started, but once the two had started talking about being annoying, Mickey knew that he had had a conversation like this before. If he hadn’t just worked such a long, overnight shift he was convinced that his brain would work better. For the most part, he had a pretty solid memory. It had gotten him through medical school after all. “It would take an incredibly impressive person to finally annoy me, so don’t worry about that. I’d be hypocritical to find anyone annoying given my own tendencies. If anything, I think it’ll just ensure that the two of us always have a good rapport.”

It wasn’t that Mickey hated being a doctor. He never shied away from mentioning the hospital, and was actually pretty damn proud of what he did despite some claiming he never seemed invested in the work. He wasn’t even a stranger to the idea of a humble brag every now and again, though he usually reserved that for what he truly found impressive like being funny and interesting and telling a really great story that makes a girl belly laugh so hard she shoots beer out of her nose at a party. That was a moment he’d never forget and probably brag about. No, Mickey just knew too many people in his life that loved to introduce themselves as doctor’s. Whether it was coworkers, professors he knew at medical school, even his own dad introduced him as Doctor Hartmann far more times than Mickey had ever introduced himself as such. It was so prevalent it was a running joke at this point, and not the funny kind that Mickey could get behind. He tended to use vaguer terms like ‘works at hospital’ or ‘in the medical field’ or in this case: “I’m in my residency right now” Mickey elaborated, telling Bellamy what he wanted to know without having to use the D word. Besides, being a doctor was not the most interesting thing about this conversation. It would be the sun rash that Bellamy have despite ‘not being a vampire’ (his words, not Mickey’s). “You mean like PMLE? Or actinic prurigo? Has it been diagnosed? It normally goes away on its own after a couple days?” he realized what he was doing too late, another fatal flaw of doctors around the world, “Sorry, I’m not trying to diagnose you on the spot. It’s not my business.” Saying it out loud did little to quell his curiosity though.

If Stella were here, Bellamy would be forced to hear all about the story of them meeting which would almost certainly include a lot of hyperbole that implied Mickey was some greek hero of legend that shot out of the ice like Hercules and probably slayed a dragon just for good measure. As much as he loved his sister, it was for the best that she wasn’t here or Mickey would have to take a nap on the store floor. Nobody wanted that. “I mean I gotta know what kind of books and toys now. That says a lot about a person.” Mickey was genuinely curious. It was just an added benefit that it would displace the attention off of Mickey’s rich adoption.

Never passing up the opportunity to offer a skating session, Mickey immediately chimed in. “If you ever have an interest in going ice skating let me know and I’ll hook you up. I love getting on the ice for a few hours. It is surprisingly difficult to convince people to go with me anytime other than December.” Bellamy offering a picture of the house and mention of entertainment totally meant that the two had just become friends. Whether Bellamy would agree with that or not was another thing. “Hell yeah! How nice. Looks like it’s out in the woods, is it remote?” Another flash of deja vu hit before a loud gasp as realization finally hit him. “Oh! I know you! We talked online about being annoying and hobbies and all of your knick knacks! That’s you, right?”

—

Bellamy grinned a bit, he supposed he didn't mind when others were annoying, either. He was sometimes easy to annoy, but he did pick his battles. Like the ones he often had with Baz, while he disliked what Baz said a lot, and it annoyed him how mistaken Baz often was. It still didn't mean that Bellamy wished anything bad would happen to the museum guide, or that he had hated Baz. But he could get pretty annoyed by things Baz said. Most other people were safe from his annoyance, however. Listening to Mickey, Bellamy nodded a bit, “I think it would. I don't mind a good conversation, either way.”

He didn't mind at all if the conversations he had with others turned into debates. He found such things to be healthy, after all. You could not always agree with everyone around you, was his thought. Some things just had to be disagreed with. As Mickey was talking on, Bellamy listened, giving Mickey most of his attention. Then, shaking his head, he glanced to one side, “Not too sure. Photosensitivity is what they called it back when I found out.” He hadn't been in the hospital a whole lot, to be fair. Bellamy had been dealing with it his whole life already. So, he had ways to manage it. Some days were like this, though, especially with this strange thing going on with him, “Uhm. Yeah. It does go away eventually, depending on the amount of exposure, and stuff.”

At the prying, he raised his eyebrows, adjusting his head a bit at that. He didn't have any action figures or fictional books. His caretakers were not that fun. They wanted to build him up to one day be someone to make money off of, “Oh. Well. Science kits and books about science. Textbooks. Dictionaries. National Geographic magazines.” He answered, not really sure that was wrong. He never thought that it was weird that he didn't have toys to talk about in class, that many of his classmates, before he had started to skip grades, talked about each December. Though he hadn't celebrated holidays, either, for that matter, “Legos.” Which was probably the most normal toy he got.

“Ah. I've never actually ice-skated before. I wouldn't know how. But other sports, eh. Maybe.” He wasn't a big sports nut, of course. He liked baseball just because he liked to hit the ball. But he wasn't opposed to learning how to play sports, either. “But it could be fun!” Bellamy then offered, nodding.

Showing his house, he grinned proudly, “Yeah! It's pretty remote. I like my privacy. It's pretty nice out there, usually.” He caught the other, just as they gasped, though he blinks, when it seemed recognition hit Mickey. Lifting his head slightly, he smiled, “Yeah? That might have been me! I don't make a habit of being known online, people ...are...uh, weird, usually.” He confessed, laughing a little under his breath, “But, it's nice to meet you in person!”

—

It was too early to tell, but Mickey was pretty sure that he could have great conversation with this guy. He hadn’t dipped out at the earliest opportunity like the store worker after all, so that was a good start. Mickey just hated that he had wasted their conversation by going medical on the man. Sure, the sun allergy was rare and fascinating. He could think of more than one doctor at the hospital that would practically foam at the mouth at the thought of meeting someone they could convince to let them poke and prod. Mickey never cared much for the research side of medicine. He wanted to help patch someone up and then send them on their way. “I’m not going to turn this into a whole intake form thing, but it’s not super common. I’ll leave it alone. Just keep in mind that you know a doctor now, so if it ever doesn’t go away you should probably reach out to me.”

They were digging deep into the lore now, where all the good shit was stored. Learning about stuff like this told Mickey a lot about a person. It helped that Mickey was like ninety percent of an open book. He would tell most details about his childhood pre adoption and any detail about his life post adoption. He mostly just skipped the little tidbit leading up to the group home and anything involving the hallucinations he used to have growing up. Still totally an open book, essentially. “Oh damn you’re like smart, smart, huh?” He couldn’t picture a world where he cared about reading textbooks or dictionaries as a kid. At least the other stuff he could mostly get behind. “I wasted my time on like Magic Treehouse and Digimon.” Bellamy’s hobbies were exactly the kind of thing his dad would have pushed him to do so he could brag about it to his coworkers. “What do you do now?”

Nothing excited Mickey more than the prospect of getting someone to ice skate with him. “Dude. It’s easy to pick up on because you can just hug the side of the rink or hold on to me the entire time. You can go entirely at your own pace. I’d love to take you some time, seriously.” And whether Bellamy believed it or not, Mickey was dead serious. Sure, they were strangers. But strangers were just a few stepping stones away from being best friends.

Bellamy seemed pretty proud of his remote cabin, which made Mickey love the place too. “I wouldn’t survive out in the remote wilderness. For multiple reasons actually. Like, I’m too social to be that far from people. But also I have zero survival skills. Smokey would have me for lunch. Breakfast, even.” He laughed but pointed at the picture on the phone, “But the place looks awesome. I’m glad it’s a little piece of you.” Connecting dots now, Mickey was more sure than ever that the two had talked online about a lot of similar things. “Totally you. I’m sure of it. And the feeling’s mutual, nice to meet you in person! Now that we’re friends both online and in person we can actually plan a real hang out!”

—

Gently tapping his fingers along the plaster container in his hands, he looked over the shelves for a bit more, listening to Mickey. Glancing over, he nodded when the other had spoke of not thing. He wasn't sure what could be done about it, all in all, anyway. He was allergic to the sun, and there were some treatments that helped, which he adhered to when he remembered. Today was no such day, it would seem. Whatever good the treatments could do anyway, they were useless when he forgot about them, “Yeah. It's not. I'm not much for doing all them treatments, either. So I just avoid sunlight.” Shaking his right hand in acknowledgement of what Mickey said at the end, he grinned, “Sure thing. I'll keep it in mind.”

At the questioning of his being 'smart smart' Bellamy bites on his lips, nodding at this, too. He was, even if it was difficult, “Yeah. So they say.” Bellamy made a face, a little confused, he had never heard of those things as a kid. They were certainly for kids, and maybe if he had grown up with his parents, then he might have indulged in such things, as well. But he could only imagine what such a life like that might have ended up being, “Well, I was designated a 'pretty smart' fairly early. So, my parents wanted to capitalize on it. So. Science kits. Textbooks. Stuff more along that line.” Plenty of educational TV, at least until he could sneak in a few non-educational things, here and there. A lot of sci-fi stuff aired in the evenings, and of course, books from the library were easily accessible with a library card. So he didn't have to worry, at times, about being caught indulging in fantastical tales when at the library.

“Oh. Nothing really special. Mostly work around my house. Gardening. Sometimes selling that stuff.” He said, not actually his chosen career, but it was something, among the many things, he did do. That did give him some cash. “Sometimes I dabble in blacksmithing, leatherworking, and woodworking. Do some cosplaying. I've been enjoying these anime's I've been watching over the years, of course. You ever watch any?”

Bellamy stared for a moment, blinking a little bit, before smiling faintly at the others' claim that ice-skating would be easy. He supposed it wasn't bad to try and learn how, “Alright. Well, which days are you free?” It would be fun, and right now, he wasn't feeling that strange feeling, mostly because he was feeling quite aware from the reaction with his allergy, keeping him quite present in the moment. The thing which caused him such suffering any other time seemed sedated in moments like these.

He was proud, it was his home, the one he had made after escaping his prison and the wardens within. He claimed it himself, quite cheap, due to its run-down state at the time, when he was just sixteen upon purchasing it and making his flight from that hell he had known. Bellamy smiles, “No?” He laughed lightly, “I like it, the wilderness, the whole thing about it. Just like, it's kind of a fortress of solitude.” Glancing to one side, then, he contemplated that thought before looking back to Mickey, “I can only stomach being personally social for a certain amount of time. Then I have to escape back to my solitude.” Bellamy didn't, of course, add that he had been wanting to spend more time alone, with going what he was going through, the blackouts, the feeling strange. He didn't want to think about it as anything more than that. It was just a cold. He raised his brows a bit when Mickey seemed to confirm to himself that it was 'him' from online. Giving a crooked grin, he nods again, “Yep. Me.” Bellamy moved the container in his hands, “Starting with hockey, er, ice skating?”

—

Fighting the urge to dive any deeper into a subjective neither of them actually wanted to discuss, Mickey let the medical conversation die at Bellamy's last word on the matter. If it wasn't so fresh off of a shift, Mickey probably wouldn't have homed in on it in the first place. Instead, they could talk about Bellamy being a kid genius, apparently. An adult genius too clearly, but the kid part was always more impressive. "Seems pretty neat. Can be a little isolating though." Mickey shrugged matter-of-factly. "Not that I was a kid genius or anything, but I think I can relate to the sentiment. Growing up I wasn't exactly a social kid either. Usually ended up turning to imaginary friends. After my parents died I switched that outlet to games and books and stuff.  Having so-called exorcists for parents and deluding himself into thinking he was talking to ghosts had been isolating in a way he thought may be similar to always being the smartest kid in any given room. "Seems like you made the best of it though, with all your hobbies and what-not?"

Mickey whistled. He hated being bored, but he had nothing on this guy. When he was bored he usually tried to go out to a bar or club or get someone to play a game with him. This guy was basically a Skyrim character. He was leveling up skills Mickey hadn't even unlocked. "Damn dude. You do it all, huh? Tell me more about this cosplaying thing. What do you usually do? I just finished Frieran and sobbed like a baby at least five times. But I like a good sports anime. Haikyu, Ace of Diamond, Chihayafuru if you can count that as one.  I've been wanting to do a Tanjiro Kamado costume for Halloween but the funds are a little limited in residency." One thing was for sure, if Mickey befriended Bellamy he might never be bored again.

Score! Mickey pumped his arm up and down in victory before extending his arm up to the sky triumphantly. "You won't regret this. Unless you do. But you probably won't." Mickey immediately pulled out his phone to pull up his calendar, "The hospital keeps me fairly busy, but it looks like I have a couple days free. The weekend after this one I actually have off. I used to help coach a kid's hockey team, so I can still usually score some time on the ice at the stadium."

Mickey felt the faintest twinge of nostalgia. There had been a time when he had the same reaction to being social. Being around people drained his social battery. It was partially why he had decided to talk to ghosts instead. But that had been a long time ago and it hardly described the person that Mickey was today. He loved talking to people. Sure, it was partially because he hated the idea of being completely alone in his thoughts. Plus it had the added bonus of making it easier to ignore all the figures roaming around town that nobody else could see. But he also just loved people. "Hopefully opposites attract or you're going to get sick of me really fast" Mickey laughed off the joke, fully aware that it was probably true, "We'll start with ice skating. I'm not quite right to check that pretty face into glass wall just yet. We'll work our way up."

—

Grinning a little at the other not continuing further, he was a little grateful about it. Standing in a store talking about your really strange allergy to the sun didn't sound like a great conversation to be having, so openly. As it wasn't always the most pleasant at times. When Mickey had gone on, he lifted his head, giving a few short nods at what the other had to say. “I'm sure I was going to get isolation before I was ever found to be an exceptionally smart kid.” He laughed a little at this. He was sure his caretakers would have made that possible in some way. But mostly, being an orphan tended to make it a standard to be isolated. Especially at an older age. When you could remember your lost parents, and know that the world would never be right again.

“They only tend to find them rarely, it seems, sorry.” He joked a little at the other, saying they were not a kid genius, “Imaginary friends are so bad. At least they can be mod-able. Depending on what you can imagine.” Which he supposed he could imagine very well, given how high his IQ was. Bellamy blinked, adjusting his head a little, though, “Yeah. I guess after something like that happens, you would probably do just about anything to feel better. For you, I guess it would have been games and books and stuff.” For him, it was difficult, since he was barely a person, only being under five at the time. His interests then were a little sparse. He doubted saying he liked Barney for a little longer was that interesting, but gave it a shot, “I got attached to tv after mine-” He stopped himself. But, also remembered that this grieving and soothing period didn't last long with his caretakers.

Bellamy laughed awkwardly, “Yeah. You can't let yourself get swallowed up in the muck, you know? Best to just keep yourself distracted, and that's what I did. Focused on the good, and kept moving past all the bad.” Bellamy eyes the other for a moment, “Got me through a lot.” It made sense to him that that had to be how he made it this far along in life. Even if he did a lot, it wasn't because of any particular talent, or even his high intelligence, it was purely a desire to better himself and be happier from that. If he let the boredom and bad things stay for too long, he knew it would not be anywhere near as good as taking on a new hobby.

Tapping a finger to the plaster container, he raised his eyebrows a bit. “It seems like it, right? Some Gary Stu type shit, some weirdo's might say. But not. I guess I'm more like a jack of all trades, master of none kind of person. Got a lot of things under my belt, my skills, however debatable for the most part.” He laughed a little then. Listening to Mickey's listing off of anime characters, “Oh. I'm not much into the sports ones. But most of the others, absolutely frothing at the mouth for some time. Dragon Ball Z. Naruto. Hunter x Hunter. Sailor Moon. Fullmetal Alchemist. Spy x Family. I usually like to dress up as Neji Hyuga, but really anything that works for me.”

Looking over the other as they fist pumped, Bellamy laughed a little bit, making a face, seemingly confused. He nodded quickly, “Of course. I hope not to.” At the talk of the hospital keeping them busy, he knocked his head from side to side, seeing that it was a given. Hospitals seemed to be like that, made sense. Listening as Mickey continued dropping facts, he smiled. “That's great. It works for me, the weekend.”

“Well-” Bellamy started before continuing coolly, “I don't think we'll have much issue, opposites or not. You're nice. That's a big plus in my book.” Everything else, being chatty and more extroverted, didn't bother Bellamy all that much, if really at all. Listening as Mickey continued, Bellamy glanced away and then nodded his head, “This pretty face, however, still has met plenty of checks elsewhere.” He replied, grinning, sounding a little amused with himself, “But yeah. Ice skating, then ice hockey, sounds like a great plan to me.”

—

“Nah I get it. If everyone got a legendary drop nothing would be legendary. Someone has to pull the common card. I’ll at least give myself some grace and level myself up to uncommon.” Mickey shrugged this off. Mickey wasn’t jealous. Despite everything, he always considered himself pretty damn lucky with the hand he had been dealt in life. “My imaginary friends were stubborn. They stayed pretty strict in their backstories.” Of course, his imaginary friends had identified as ghosts and had very detailed backstories that they used to share with Mickey. Or Michael, as they knew him back then. That just had to mean that Mickey’s sense of imagination as a kid was off the charts, considering he had listened to his imaginary friends tell him about things he had never even heard of before meeting them. He noticed Bellamy cut himself off. Some kind of past trauma too, most likely. Mickey rarely censored himself, but even he usually avoided directly talking about their passing. Whether it was for himself or to avoid bringing down the mood, he wasn’t really sure. “What shows did you get stuck on? Is that when you first got into anime?” Mickey remembered the fight for the tv back at the group home. He wasn’t very confrontational back then, so he mostly learned to enjoy whatever the other kids were watching.

“Dabbling in a bunch of other stuff is so much more interesting than just being obsessed and perfect at one, in my opinion.” Listening to the list of anime, Mickey did feel he was getting a good sense of Bellamy based on what he had learned so far. He leaned back, using his thumbs and pointer fingers to focus Mickey’s vision on Bellamy and get a better look, “I can really see the Neji look. I bet that looks cool as hell. I think I may have to pick your brain on some cosplay ideas with Halloween coming up. I’ve never gone the anime route before.”

As long as Bellamy was serious, Mickey had found a skating partner. “I can’t wait. It’s going to be so fun. And if it’s not I need you to pretend it was for me and then you never have to do it again after.” he stopped himself and circled back, “That was kind of a joke. Lying is boring. So you can tell me the truth. I’ll be sad for a minute, but I’ll bounce back.” He shimmied around to pull the backpack off his back and rummaged inside of it for his phone, “I’ll text you my schedule and then we can pick a day, yeah? Put your number in.”

—

Nodding at that, Bellamy couldn't agree more. Of course, the world could have certainly benefited from the average population being more intelligent. But what they had right now wasn't ultimately the worst he could imagine, either. It was just the tools and the way things occupied people's time that made things seem to be progressing slowly in certain avenues. Clearing his throat, Bellamy tilted his head just a little bit as Mickey was talking. He listened closely. Grinning a bit, he could understand. Though he hadn't seen ghosts, or anything of the sort, “I guess, it's like roleplaying. Have to stick to the backstories, at least in a way.” Though it was all in his head, these imaginary friends of his. Or, projections onto things, in some cases. Bellamy made due with what he could, easily.

With the questioning, he thought back, “Oh, older stuff sometimes. Flintstones. Kids Next Door. One Piece.” He nods, “Yeah, a lot of the late-night programming for a couple of channels would show some anime. Like Bleach. Sometimes Cardcaptor Sakura. Uhm, Yu Yu Hakusho. Trigun.” Bellamy continued, “When my parents weren't awake, it was the best time to catch some television.” Since they wouldn't allow him to watch it during the day, as they wanted him to primarily focus on his studies and extracurricular activities. He was, in their supervision, treated more like a machine, in the hopes of one day becoming a treasure trove.

Bellamy laughs a little bit, nodding in agreement at the statement, “Yeah. It's nice, for the most part.” He certainly enjoyed learning new things. Just about anything was fair game for needing to know something about, in his mind. As the other agreed, he could see the Neji look, for him, he nodded, “Yeah. It's one of the better Naruto characters. He probably could have been one of the best if they had given him more screen time. Kind of dropped the ball the first time he almost died, though.” Wincing slightly, he faintly bared his teeth, “Never? It's pretty fun. I've done it quite a bit.”

Laughing at that, he nodded again, “Sure thing.” He added, amused. Knowing he was prone to telling the truth about how he felt, rather than not. He had spent plenty of time, even to this day, lying about other things. How he felt about how he spent his time these days was one thing he would like to avoid. Especially with missing time often these days, during his blackouts. Scratching at his chest again, he swallowed and listened to Mickey as the other assured him that he was joking, “Ahh. Lying is definitely not great for something like that. So yeah, very boring.” It was good to be honest with your friends about things like that. It helped to figure out, if any stayed, who was worth putting that trust into. Bellamy watched the other move to pull out their phone. When it was held out to him, he took Mickey's phone and quickly put his number inside. “Sounds like a great plan.”

—

Despite considering himself an open book, talk of imaginary friends was dangerously close to the topic of spirits which was dangerously close to the one topic Mickey liked avoiding at all costs. “The group home forced me to become more social. But I think it ended up working out for the best. I find talking to real people a lot more interesting. People like you, I guess.” It was nice to make a friend that wasn’t immediately combative about the idea of friendship. He had been on a streak recently, though he was fairly certain he had won them over now. 

“So all the classics, clearly.” Mickey  grinned. He remembered watching many of the same shows. Some while his parents were out late doing whatever job they claimed to be working. Some at the group home when his house mates had the channel changed to it. Once he lived with the Hartmann’s he had access to any show or channel that he could possibly imagine. Ironic that that was when he started moving away from watching it. “I think anyone that wasn’t Naruto or Sasuka got shafted on that show, honestly. But my favorite was always Kiba.” Back then, he was a fan of all the confidence Kiba had. A confidence that Mickey could only ever dream of at the time. “I used to go to a bunch of Halloween parties back in college and medical school. But I guess back then I was usually either doing a couple’s costume with my girlfriend or a group costume with friends. My vote never made the cut.” It was easy to shrug off. The costume never made the party and he had usually found a way to enjoy the party and apparently forget the costumes. “Okay, besides Neji, give me the highlights of your costumes. Give me some inspo.”

Despite the exhaustion, this had turned into a successful morning. Mickey had helped his mom, made a friend and made some plans. All before he had had a real breakfast. All in a day’s work. Not that he had any other plans besides going home and crashing; he now knew that he could rest easy tonight. Or this morning, technically. “Well you start brainstorming. After we do my thing we’ll do something you suggest. Sound good?”

—

As the conversation got more in-depth about imaginary friends, Mickey seemed to divert away from it. Bellamy picked up on that, but ignored bringing up or questioning the changing of the subject. Nodding only when Mickey was talking about life as an orphan, otherwise, “Ah.” He wouldn't say any of the other foster children he met, and his caretakers made him more social. Not at all, “Well, that's great, good that happened for you.” Bellamy grins, “I would imagine so. Especially now that you're an adult?”

Bellamy nodded with a crooked grin, “Yes. The classics.” As the conversation moved on and Mickey spoke about how many of the side characters in Naruto got left out, “Yeeah. I always liked Kiba, actually, too. He was pretty cool when you first met him. Then he falls off when the creator stops giving him attention. Making him a laughingstock in the series and with many of the fans. I think many of the side characters could have had a lot more to them, if they were explored more. I think I can say that for a lot of characters in other franchises, too.” Laughing, then he shook his head.

Listening to Mickey, still, Bellamy nods still, taking in what he was hearing. Glancing to one side, he couldn't remember even being invited to any parties in university, but he was at least away from his caretakers at the time. He frowns, hearing that Mickey's costumes didn't get the most votes, “Oh. That always sucks.” Though when asked what else he has dressed up as, he thought for a moment, “Dressed as Luffy and Zoro from One Piece, a couple of times. Did a Xenomorph costume last year for Halloween. I've also dressed as Gaara, Butters Stotch, Sesshomaru, Shippo, Donald Duck, Hitsugaya, Spike Speigel, Fred Jones, Mustang, Lelouch, Castiel, Spock-- I could keep going. But I think that's enough to give you an idea.”

Smiling, Bellamy nodded in agreement to do some brainstorming. Handing the phone back over to Mickey as the other was talking, “Sounds great.” Lifting his head slightly, he smiled more pleasantly.

—

“I think it’s worked out for the best. Not sure if everyone would agree.” Sure, there were people that joked that Mickey talked too much or annoyed them. They were mostly joking, he was pretty sure. There were definitely a few that hadn’t been joking throughout his life, but he couldn’t remember them. Moving forward and all that jazz. “It contributed to us meeting, so that has to count for something, huh?”

Bellamy sounded like someone who knew way more about anime than Mickey did. Mickey liked killing time with it, and found it an easy way to stave off boredom if nobody else was free. He couldn’t consider himself an expert, more like someone that had a pretty wide range of experience with it. He was pretty sure he had never actually finished some of the longer shows. Just knew the general ins and outs of the plot. “I think I always had a thing for side characters. I found them more interesting than the main ones and was always super disappointed when they didn’t get the time they deserved.” That certainly couldn’t be any type of response to his own childhood, right? He didn’t have a therapist to ask about it anymore, so he supposed he’d have to unpack that one himself later.

“Shit. You’ve covered like every genre. That’s impressive.” Mickey couldn’t wait to talk to him more. Finish their first hang out and think up new plans. Eventually, he’d get a closer look at those outfits and see the work for himself. He found the whole thing fascinating, and nothing was more motivating to Mickey than finding something fascinating. 

As their plans were locked in, Mickey’s body reminded himself just how tired hem was and how little sleep he was operating on. With how interesting Mickey found Bellamy, he could stand around in this store talking to the man until his legs physically gave out and his eyes shut from lack of sleep. If he didn’t take the opportunity now he wasn’t sure when he would. “I’m going to text you and then we will go from there. For now, I’d like to sleep for a million years or somewhere less. But it was such a pleasure meeting you, dude.”

—

“Oh.” Bellamy raised his eyebrows at this admission from the other. It seemed odd that people wouldn't be accepting of such an outcome. But, of course, he was looking at it from a perspective of not having anything at all remotely like it. Though he had often desired something very much like that. Because of his bankability, however, his caretakers had gotten in the way of anyone who would have wanted to adopt him. So Bellamy had, in the end, felt unlovable, because of this. He grew up thinking that something must have been wrong with him. He could even find some way to blame himself for what happened to his parents, most of the time. Glancing away, he looked back at the shelf again, reading some of the other options of plaster. Listening still when Mickey was talking, laughing a little at the optimism, “Yes. It has led to this moment.”

He grinned at Mickey's admittance to preferring side characters. He couldn't say that it wasn't fair, he agreed, at times, the side characters were better than the main characters. “You have a point. I also enjoy minor characters, in the main cast. In many cases. But these last eleven years of my life, I've been absorbing all this media, I may have gone overboard a little. Maybe hyperfixated a bit! He laughed lightly at this comment. Nodding as Mickey commented on his dress-up game, “Right. Like I said, I kind of just lost my head a bit trying to catch.” Tapping his fingers along the plaster container some more, he glances away, thinking on other things he had taken an interest in over these last eleven years.