Chapter Text
Michael has been living alone for five months now.
He’s not entirely alone.
He has Jecht, the old cat him and Luke adopted from the shelter across town last year.
Either way he’s been the only human in his apartment for five months and it’s fine. He’s not there right now anyway he’s in this bar. This dingy little hole in the wall dive he found while he was wandering the streets to avoid going back home and sitting in his empty apartment to stare at the outline on the wall where Luke’s stupid framed AC/DC signed vinyl used to hang.
He’s fine too.
He’s doing just as well on his own as he did when he wasn’t alone. His music shop is more successful than ever and he’s even started having private guitar lessons in the back for young kids who still believe they can become rockstars in their 20s. He’s started going to the gym too. Sometimes. Occasionally. Whatever, the point is he’s fine.
He’s just sitting in a booth on the far side of the room with a clear view of the bar and entrance beyond it when the door swings open and in steps a tall lanky figure he hasn’t seen in five months. Michael’s breath catches when he hears his laughter clear across the room over the din of the other patrons and the music playing like his ears are still tuned to the sound of that voice. Michael swallows hard past the lump in his throat and takes another drink of his beer. His eyes haven’t left where Luke is turning toward a guy with honey blond curly hair and a smile that’s bright and sharp but warm and directed at Luke like he sees the spring flowers growing in his blue lilac eyes. Like he sees him the way Michael used to, before the late nights at the shop and arguments.
The heavy silences and scathing comments muttered under breaths. The Talk about Luke not feeling like Michael even wanted him around anymore. The silence that followed and sighs and sniffling that they both pretended the other couldn’t hear while Luke packed up a bag and left that night without saying goodbye and let the door close quietly behind him.
Michael can’t look away from where Luke and this guy are standing at the bar closer than necessary and talking through grins and Luke is doing the ridiculous thing with his eyebrows, he only does when he’s trying to flirt with a guy. Michael used to watch him do it when he was trying to get free drinks when they would go out, just to prove that he could. Michael watches them silently like he can’t tear his eyes away.
They touch each others shoulders and hands liberally and smile coyly through lashes and behind drinks. Michael finishes his beer without noticing at first. He quickly pulls some cash from his wallet and leaves it on the table before sliding out of the booth and walking hastily toward the exit. He glances over his shoulder at the door and catches the eyes of the man Luke is with, his date, Michael’s brain supplies. He only lingers a moment and he guy smiles at him like he’s just kind and it’s not weird of Michael to stare at him.
Michael pushes the door open and steps out into the dark street the cold breeze steals his breath and he struggles to get it back before starting the walk back toward his apartment. His beers sit heavy in his stomach and he feels too warm under his shirt. He’s still struggling to get his breath back and his vision keeps blurring until he blinks it back into focus.
He stops there in the middle of the pavement.
He feels the tears welling up in his eyes and bile in his throat. He wants to run back to the bar and beg Luke to come home with him. He wants to lay down right there and never get up again. He want’s Luke come get his stupid cat and to hang his record back up on the wall. He wants to put the last five months back into order with Luke still in them. He wants to go back to the night they had That Talk and deny every doubt he ever had about his heart and where Luke belonged in it. He wants to not be alone.
But he knows now that’s not an option. He knows none of those are options and he lets the tears roll down his cheeks while he walks home silently. He waits until he gets to his couch to break down. He buries his face into a pillow and sobs like he hasn’t let himself before. All the pain his heart’s been suppressing since Luke carried the last of his things out of their apartment and left his keys on the table by the door takes over and lets the fat hot tears stain the pillow below him and doesn’t bother moving away from it. He falls asleep there after the tears subside, staring at the spot on the wall where Luke’s signed AC/DC vinyl used to hang.
Michael wakes up groggy the next day and groans while he rubs his face into the couch. He lays there for a moment and let's the events of last night wash over him.
Luke was clearly on a date. He looked happy and like he was having fun. He was flirting and smiling and laughing with this new guy and Michael couldn’t even bare to watch it. So it's been five months and Luke is going on dates again. Michael knows that's reasonable, he does. It still makes his gut hurt and his heart pull dangerously close to tears.
He sighs.
Michael is contemplating getting up and going down to shop or if he could get away with spending the entire day on his couch when he hears the tiny tinkle of a bell. Suddenly he has a faceful of soft cottony gray fur and Jecht is mewing and purring and rubbing himself all over Michael’s face. He sits up and pulls the cat into his arms.
“I saw your other dad last night, ya know.” He says scratching behind Jecht’s ears and making him purr even louder. “You don’t even care though, do you?” he asks the cat. He stands and carries Jecht with him into the kitchen, he sets the cat on the counter and retrieves his little dish. It’s a tiny ceramic bowl with fish skeletons all over it. Luke insisted they buy it but Michael always thought it was stupid. He fills the bowl and sets it on the counter in front of the cat and goes about making something to eat for himself. He hasn’t been grocery shopping in a couple weeks so the pickings are slim and he settles on reheated takeout. He stands at the counter and eats his leftovers beside Jecht, occasionally making comments to the cat whose only response is to glance at Michael with an expression that Michael can just tell is thoroughly unimpressed.
Michael is doing inventory at the shop. He did decide to leave the house after one too many disgruntled glances from Jecht. He doesn’t mind this part of owning the music store as much as everything else. It’s mind numbing but it makes it easier for him to get through the day. He’s currently rearranging a shelf of cleaning products toward the back, trusting his employees to take care of the customers and such while he gets a shelf ready for a new shipment of vinyl cleaner kits.
He's squatting down to finish stocking back a bottom shelf when a pair of roughed up dirty black vans appear in front of him. He follows them up the black skinny jean clad legs to the well muscled arms and torso of a man with beautiful brown skin and finally to a face that has Michael staring despite himself. The man in front him has full pouty lips and eyes dark brown like espresso.
“Hi.” He smiles down at Mikey and Jesus Christ his teeth are lovely. Fuck. Michael stands kinda quickly and grabs the shelf next him as the blood rushes to his head for a second. He clears his throat.
“Hi. What can I help you with?” Michael asks smiling back closed lip with his best I own this store voice.
“Um i’m looking for strings for my bass?” The guys replies warmth in his eyes and smile still in place. He would have had to walk directly past them to get to Michael. So he’s either completely unobservant or he missed them on purpose. Michael’s brain supplies to him. Michael sighs inwardly.
“There actually right here behind you!” He says cheery customer service voice in place and gestures over the guy’s shoulder they both go to move at the same time and Michael bumps into him accidentally tripping back into the nearly empty box of vinyl cleaner and cloths. The guy reaches for Michael’s wrist to steady him and Michael can’t help the blush that creeps across his face at the sound of the bottles bumping around in the box he’s kicked. He sighs inwardly and gently pulls his wrist free.
“Sorry about that, I tend to be kind of clumsy sometimes.” Michael trailed off as he turned around and began to pick up the bottles that had fallen. He heard what almost sounded like a small chuckle behind him and he tried his best to clean the mess he had made. He could still tell that the man was behind him, probably just looking at the strings that he was looking for. He snuck a look behind him, and saw the same boy leaning over and, just as he suspected, looking at bass strings. God, he’s got a great ass… Michael quickly pushed away his thought and went back to picking up the bottles on the floor. After shoving them all onto the shelf haphazardly he grimaced at them knowing he’d have to come back and make it look more presentable later. He turned back toward the guy watching as he examined one pack of strings and compared it to another.
“I prefer these ones myself.” Michael suggested, flicking the pack the customer held in his left hand.
“Thanks I went this other shop but they didn’t even have any bass strings, like, at all.” The guy says. “Think I’ll go with these then.” He holds the same ones Michael suggested up and shoves the others back on the hook with the rest of them. He smiles at Michael and as he hands them to him and Michael smiles back politely. They linger for a moment and Michael turns toward the front of shop quickly when he senses an awkward silence creeping on.
He hears the guy follow and leads him the counter where the old cash register sits unmanned. Michael sighs at that because of course Fiona would just walk away. He rings the man up and bags his strings in a tiny brown paper bag he could easily shove in his pocket if need be.
“Thanks for shopping at Fairy Floss!” Michael enthuses the way he only does in the shop. He smiles again as he guy takes a step behind him toward the exit. He pauses though before stepping right back up to the counter.
“Um actually.” He starts but pauses and furrows his brow.
“Did you need something else?” Michael inquires politely a little confused himself.
“I was wondering if I could get your number actually?” The stranger asks biting his lip into his mouth quickly.
“Oh sure!” Michael replies happily. He reaches around the register to the side facing the customer and feels around for the little stack of cards with the shop info on it and the logo embossed in solid black.
“Here this has the shop number right here.” Michael points to the tiny row of numbers on the card. “So if you need anything don’t be afraid to call, okay? We can do special orders as well so anything music related we’ll try our best to get it for you!”
He holds the card out for the guy to take and notices that a red tint has started to creep across his golden cheeks. Michael hesitates a little sensing that something is off just a bit when the man takes the card and shoves it in his pocket quickly like it's offended him. He pauses again before sighing down at his feet and shaking his head just a little. He seems to gather himself quickly before smiling brightly at Michael and thanking him as he makes a rather hasty exit in Michael’s opinion. Michael watches the door for a moment to be sure another customer isn’t coming in before he heads back to organize the shelves he abandoned before.
He's just about to slip back to the back when Fiona appears out of the office, and nearly scares Michael into an early grave, laughing.
“Oh my god, Mike!” she wheezes in laughter. He bristles because he's not sure what's funny but he knows he’s being laughed at and he hates not being in on the joke.
“What?” He scowls back at her. Luke used to say he looked like a rumpled kitten when he did that so instead he tries to sooth his face into something like indifference. He's not sure how well that works judging by the snicker he gets from Fiona.
“You are seriously so clueless, Mike.” She sighs. “He was totally trying to hit on you.”
“Who?” Michael says whipping around like the offending person will show themselves at Michael's command.
“Oh my god, Mikey!” Fiona whines at him slumping over the counter like a petulant teenager. “That hot piece of ass that just asked for your number, you knob!” She gestures an arm toward the door. Michael sighs again, he feels like he’s been doing that a lot today.
“No he wasn’t.” Michael says definitively. Fiona snorts into her arm and rolls her eyes so hard Michael’s amazed they don’t fall out and roll across the counter.
“He absolutely fucking was.” She says. They stare at each other for a moment before she simply quirks an eyebrow at him.
“He asked for the shop number? How is that hitting on me?” Michael throws his arms up in exasperation.
“No! He asked for your number! If he wanted the shop number he could have grabbed a card himself!” She replies just as exasperated. Michael flounders for a response and in the end comes up with nothing. He didn’t even get the guys name nor did he ask for Michael's so whatever.
“Whatever.” Michael huffs and walks, not stomps he's not a teenager, away. Fiona makes a scathing noise behind him that he ignores. She's not mad at him, not really. She’s just determined that Michael gets out of his post-Luke funk by trying to make him date every fucking guy or girl that comes into the shop. And honestly it's annoying but he can't be mad because Fiona has always been like this.
They’ve known each other longer than Michael’s known anyone else from the city. She was the first person he befriended when he moved into his first apartment just down the street from the shop. He accidently walked into her apartment the afternoon of his second day living there and they ended up screaming at each other from opposite sides of her kitchen table when he tried to explain his mistake after she nearly hit him with a still hot frying pan. It took a few months after that but eventually they got past the awkwardness of their first encounter slowly. When Michael came to her aid one afternoon when a crazy ex boyfriend tried to attack her in the lobby and he just happened to be there, they became friends soon after.
Fiona is Michael’s closest friend and his first employee of the shop. So she also happens to be the one Michael cried on after him and Luke broke up and is the one who is now determined that he get over him and find a ‘hotter and nicer date mate’. Michael's fine though. He was alone for years before he was with Luke and he’d rather be alone again now. And that's all it is. He's not holding out hope for a failed relationship to just magically right itself after five months, he’s not. He knows better and he’s fine with that.
So he brushes Fiona off and goes back to stocking his shelves and completely forgets about the handsome stranger with brown eyes. He goes home after he closes the shop and has dinner, take out again, sitting on the counter with Jecht. And he finds a bottle of vodka in the back of the freezer and drinks it all before he falls asleep on the couch staring at the damn dust outline on the wall again.
Michael is pitched into consciousness the next morning by his ringtone blasting loudly and vibrating across the coffee table in front of his face. He groans at the headache beating against his temples and rubs his face into the couch cushion before blindly swatting out a hand for his phone. He whacks his knuckles on the underside of the table and winces but smacks his phone to floor onto the rug with a sigh. He peeks one eye out to see the tail end of a call from the shop. It immediately lights up again as the call comes in again this time it’s Fiona’s bright smile and green hair looking back at him and he slides a finger across the screen and hits speaker just as her voice comes through loud and a little panicked.
“Michael!” She almost shouts. “You need to come down here right now! Oh my god!” her accent is a little thicker in her excitement and Michael sits up immediately scrambling to get his phone off the floor.
“What? What’s wrong? What’s going on?” He questions her quickly as he gets up to rush to his room and find any clean pair of pants he can. He stumbles over his black skinnies from yesterday and deems them acceptable as this is an emergency and they’re black so it’s not like anyone will notice. He tosses his phone on the bed and shoves his feet in them to start working them up his legs. Damn him for wearing such tight fucking clothes he thinks as he falls onto his bed to jerk them up his hips. Fiona is rambling away still on the phone that’s muffled somewhere under Michael now. He quickly rips a shirt from his closet and pulls it over his head. He grabs his phone and exits his room as quick as he can while listening to his best friend panic about something to do with all the bass guitars. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror by the door while he’s grabbing his keys and makes a face at the state of hair.
“Okay, Fiona!” He says. “FiFi, listen to me!” He has to practically shout over her get her to quiet down and listen to him.
“I’m outside my apartment already! I’ll be there in like ten minutes okay?” He sighs, trying to calm her down.
“Okay!” she squeaks out and then the line goes dead. Michael shoves his things in his pocket and heads for the lobby as quickly as possible. He takes the stairs two at a time and runs through the lobby of his building like a madman. He pauses and slows down a little when he sees the old lady for 23A giving him a strange look as she waits for the elevator with her pitbull Rufus presumably just back from their morning walk.
Michael jogs the entire way to the store and is sweating by the time he gets to the block his shop is on. He said he was going to the gym sometimes okay so sue him. He’s glad the shirt he blindly threw on his a cut off though because his skinny jeans are seriously clinging in all the wrong places right now and he needs some coffee if he’s gonna deal with a musical emergency after drinking a half a fifth by himself last night. As soon as he gets to storefront Fiona is behind the counter mentioning him inside with a huge arm gesture and the person walking past him as he reaches for the door looks between them briefly before hurrying away down the pavement. Michael despite himself and scurries inside the shop quickly.
Michael rounds the corner of the counter and Fiona grabs his elbow to pull him into the office area and slams the door closed.
“Jesus Christ, Fi!” Michael says “We have customers! What’s the matter?”
“The bassist is here! He’s been here all morning!” She squeals at him going over the window that looks into the shop and pushing the blinds apart at eye level. Confused, Michael goes over and peeks over her shoulder to see what she’s going on about. It takes him a minute but he catches onto what she means when his eyes land on the same guy from yesterday. He’s sitting on a stool by the wall of guitars in front of the bass section. He’s got a bass in his lap and he hunched over it playing out rhythm that Michael can’t hear but he can see by the way the guy’s fingers move over the frets that he’s skilled at it.
“He's been here for like an hour!” Fiona says turning around and pushing Michael away from the window. He's got like at least a foot on her and she still manages to make him stumble backwards.
“Has anyone talked to him?” Michael asks.
“No! Of course not! I told everyone to stay away until you got here!” Fiona squeaks indignantly.
“He's sat out there with no customer service for an hour?” Michael almost yells. Fiona has the decency to look a little shamed by it but she's pushing him toward the door all the same.
“Okay, Mikey, that was dumb I admit, but now is your chance. You have a hot, musically inclined guy in your shop who has shown interest in you. Go woo him and don't fuck it up.” Fiona shoves him toward the bass guitars and when Michael looks back at her scathingly she only smiles and encouragingly and makes a shoo-shoo gesture.
Michael straightens out his shirt as he makes his approach to the bassist, grimaces as an afterthought about the condition his hair is in. The stranger looks up right as Michael gets to him and smiles brilliantly. His smile is just as pretty as it was yesterday and makes his face squish up cutely.
“Hi, do you need help with anything?” Michael smiles back and remembers he didn't brush his teeth in his panic to leave. Ugh. He should fire Fiona, honestly.
“Oh ummm I was looking at getting a new bass?” The stranger says it like a question and Michael can’t control the smirk that turns up the corner of his mouth. He quirks an eyebrow and the other man seemingly loses his grip on the bass he's holding at the same moment. They both fumble to keep it from hitting the floor and Michael takes it gingerly to hang it back with the others while his customer stumbles out an apology. His cheeks are a little pink and Michael suddenly has the urge to pinch them. They just look so soft and squishy but Michael has self control.
“Did you have anything in particular in mind then?” Michael queries. “Maybe even just brand or a particular sound?”
“Oh I mean my fender is my baby so I don't know if anything else can really do it for me. I was just shopping around yknow?” He scratches at the back of head shyly and Michael gets it. He loves his beat old guitar the most of all the ones he's got in the shop and at home.
“Okay then just feel free to browse and we’ve got people all over the floor so just grab someone and they'll be more than happy to help you!” Michael smiles winningly. He turns to go back to the office and maybe fire Fiona but the guys stops him with a soft,
“Oh hey! Wait um, Can I ask for your name?” he's smiling brightly at Michael good natured and flirtatious at the same time. Like it's Michael’s choice what side this conversation lands on. He feels his stomach tighten up and throat dry a little. He doesn’t want this guy to get any ideas, he’s not up for anything yet. He’s not over Luke, doesn’t know if he'll ever be over Luke to be frank but this is his shop and he can't just not tell the guy his name. That's rude and poor customer service and this is just not Michael’s morning.
“My name is Michael.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and looks back at the man with a friendly but hopefully oblivious smile. Maybe he’ll think I’m straight he thinks.
“Thank you, Michael. My name is Calum.” He extends a hand to Michael and he really can't be rude. Michael takes the proffered hand and gives it a firm shake, totally professional and business-like. Then turns on his heels and marches right back to his office grabbing Fiona by arm and dragging her away from the shelf she's been restocking conveniently within ear shot of Michael and Calum’s conversation.
“Well,” Fiona questions him giddily, bouncing on the balls of her feet.
“What did you expect, Fi?” Michael plops down in the squeaky office chair behind his desk he hardly ever uses and let's his head rest on his arms on top of some papers he should probably file away but later. He's wallowing pathetically right now.
“Uh, did he ask you out? Did you ask him out? Are you guys getting married yet or what?” She asks sarcastically. Michael just gives her a withering look before putting his head back down.
“Oh come on, baby bear!” she whines.
“I told you not to call me that.” Michael mumbles into his arm.
“Excuse you, I have express permission from one Karen Clifford to call you that whenever I want to!” she smirks and turns her nose up at him.
“Why did I ever let you meet my family,” Michael groans loudly.
“Because you love me!” she sings songs at him. “And you know I only ever want you to happy, Mikey.” She says far more seriously and far too early for how hungover he still is.
“I do, Fi. I know.”
“So, you know I don't like where you're at right now and I only wanna help you get better, love.
Michael wants to tell her he's fine. He doesn't need to get better. But as he thinks about the fact that he got drunk for second night this week and it's only Wednesday and the state of his apartment. The fact that he hasn't bought groceries in over a month except to get food for his cat and knows that not the truth.
“I know.” He whispers quietly into his skin. Next thing he knows he being wrapped up in a hug from behind, it's awkward over the side of chair but Fiona’s face is right beside his and he can smell the same spicy sweet scent she always carries around, same since the day they met, and takes comfort in his best friends proximity.
He's not gonna have another breakdown not right now at work but his throat feels tight and his eyes sting before he blinks it away quickly, swallows hard and turns to dislodge Fiona and stand.
“You should go back to whatever you were doing. I’m gonna go get everyone lunch.” Michael nods and hugs Fiona once more tightly but briefly. Then he's pushing her out the door and grabs a pen and note pad to go take all his employees orders for the cafe down the street.
He’s just checking over his list to make sure he got something from everyone when someone clears their throat behind him. He tenses for a moment before turning around. It's the bassist, Calum his mind supplies for him. He's smiling at Michael just as friendly as before and Michael really doesn't know what to do. He can just tell the guy to back off and leave him alone because he’s only been friendly and respectful at this point plus he's a customer technically.
“Hi, did you need anything?” Michael asks cheerful while trying his hardest to seem detached.
“Um. Well I actually I just had a question for you,” he replies.
Oh god here it comes, Michael thinks. He raises his eyebrows in a go ahead gesture.
“I was wondering if I could get your number. Like not the stores like yours if that's something you’d be okay with.” Calum asks and he's blushing by the time he finishes.
“Oh,” Michael begins apologetically, “I don't give my personal number out to customers…”
Calum is actually full on blushing now his cheeks are very rosy pink and it's leaking down his neck as well.
“I wasn't ask as a customer. Um. I meant as someone who's interested in asking you out possibly or just like um getting to know you maybe. As friends maybe.” Calum stutters.
“Oh.” Michael says softly. “ I’m sorry, I um I’m not really, I don't think that's a good idea right now. I’m sorry.” Michael is stuttering too now but he's terrible at this. At rejecting people softly. Calum hasn’t done anything wrong and Michael doesn't want him to feel bad he's just not going to date him is all.
“Right now. Okay. I can deal with that. Um. I’m sorry to have bothered you. Thank you though.” Calum is still blushing and stuttering as he turns to leave and Michael stares after him until he can’t see him past the store front.
He sighs heavily. In the next second he feels something hit the back of his head.
“Ow! What the hell?” he turns to see Fiona furiously crumbling sheets of paper from an old notebook to lob at him. He tries to block her assault with his note pad until he can get out the door. He looks back at her exasperated face through the glass and she glares him. Michael widens his eyes and shrugs at her. Fiona makes a shoo-shoo gesture and flips him off as he turns away.