Something Odd || Mikesop (Mike Morton/Acrobat x Aesop Carl/Embalmer) [Request]
This fic is a request by @/rosettehiruka
word count: 1195
This fic has themes of depression, survivor's guilt, self-isolation (in a self harming manner) and hurt/comfort with a happy end. Viewer's discretion advised.
Now, Aesop had settled himself into a routine while at the manor, making himself more comfortable and even familiar with the new place he had to call home. He had organized his room to perfection, he had told everyone about what he can and cannot eat due to sensory issues, but yet something he had not expected while there was to find companionship that was not a dead corpse. A man so used to the company of those that had passed on, he had found it difficult at first to adjust to something so new to him, but as time grew on and the Acrobat’s presence grew on Aesop, he found himself being able to work without dropping a brush, or running a hand through his hair and messing it up due to the stress of having Mike bouncing around the room. It was the little things that allowed him to know that somewhere inside of him, he found Mike’s want to be near to be… endearing.
Maybe that’s why he felt unnerved the first day that he noticed that Mike hadn’t bothered him all day, but he brushed it off and assumed that maybe Mike was hanging out with other people that day. Then the next day came and went, no sign of Mike anywhere according to what the others said, and despite his best efforts… it seemed like something had barricaded Mike’s door from the inside. It was odd, the normally social acrobat seemingly becoming afraid of the world all of a sudden, but maybe that’s why Aesop found himself at the door every day, at the same time, rasping his fist against the door, hoping that maybe he would see the heterochromic eyes of his partner, on most days, he just ended up sitting outside the door and watching the food that he would bring with him go cold.
The good thing about the manor is that you cannot die while there, the bad thing about the manor is that because of that good reason, most human needs could be ignored for the most part. Food piled up, Aesop’s anxiety grew, and on the fifth day of Mike’s self isolation, Aesop found himself borrowing a few of Kreacher’s tools.
“Kreacher is surprised that you are borrowing his tools,” The thief spoke, watching as Aesop attempted to pick at the door with the tools that seemed so forgin in his hands, “but you’re holding them wrong.” Aesop had shut the thief out of his hearing at that time, and as he felt around through the picks, feeling the inner workings of the door, Aesop let out a huff through his mask as he attempted to open the door lock again.
“You and Freddy make this so easy looking…” The Embalmer muttered, remembering how he had watched the two of them unlock doors whenever they mysteriously get locked without anyone locking them, knowing how they were able to unlock doors with ease, but fingers came into his view, and similar to how he was able to unlock the door, Kreacher had already taken the tools and used them efficiently before Aesop could even blink, the gentle sound of the lock unlocking as Kreacher pulled the tools away. “Payment is on the table next to us, please leave now.” Regaining his composure as he said this, Aesop got off his knees as he watched the thief laugh, taking the small collection of coins before he scattered off to do heaven knows what - most likely get on the nerves of some of the other survivors he supposed.
Nothing however could prepare Aesop for what he saw next when he opened that door though.
Aesop had known about the hanging swing that sat in Mike’s bedroom for a while, almost like a sack as it dangled from the ceiling, but seeing Mike’s hollow face staring out at him, the room a mess and smelt even worse than it looked, Aesop’s strong stomach almost gave up right then and there. Mike wasn’t dead, but he sure looked like it as he tried to smile. “Aesop, you got in?” Aesop’s brain began to wrack itself for things to say, do, he tried to will his body to do something, but all he could do was make gaping fish faces behind his mask, grey eyes scanning the room as he tried to figure out if something or someone had come in and hurt Mike. But Mike would’ve came and got someone if he was being or had been attacked… This was all Mike’s doing.
“Michael-” Aesop used Mike’s full name as he stepped into the room, the dull lumination of dying candles becoming the only thing that casted shadows as he once more shut the door, attempting to get closer to the male that hung in the sack, still smiling, “What happened?” Gloved hands coming up to the acrobat’s face and cupping a lukewarm cheek, the acrobat’s face nuzzled into the cotton, giving a sigh as one eye remained open, staring at the male that had approached on his state. The acrobat’s smiling face didn’t deceive the embalmer, as he knew far too well at this time that Mike had the habit of hiding his true feelings behind a cheery facade, and as Aesop cupped the other cheek and forced the blonde to look at him [and as much as Aesop hated the fact he was making eye contact], the blonde’s facade soon crumbled once again; red, puffy eyes beginning to cry silently, soaking the white cotton of Aesop’s gloves.
“Fire.” Aesop’s fingers tensed when he heard Mike said this, the heartbroken sob that echoed in the room after Mike said that word, and soon enough, more followed as the sack shook slightly, most likely shaking with his body’s heaving as he hung his head. “So much fire.” the Hullabaloo circus tragedy wasn’t something Aesop was oblivious to given that he had to attend to the recreation of the victims that had perished within the flames, but seeing Mike break down, Aesop’s usually monotonous face shifted, eyebrows furrowing, and for once, Aesop lowered his mask on his own in front of company.
“You’re not there, not anymore.” Aesop muttered, pressing his forehead against Mike’s as he listened to his partner’s pained sobs. “Mike, please, you’re not there.” Calloused fingers wrapped themselves around Aesop’s wrists, beginning to play with the edge of Aesop’s gloves, Mike looking straight at Aesop’s eyes.
“I can still hear them. Aesop, some of them were children.” Trauma had a funny way of staying in the minds of people despite being thousands of miles away from situations, but as Aesop felt wetness slip down his own cheeks, “Please tell me that I deserve to live… please.” Aesop’s heart tightened in his chest, but without a second thought, he began muttering everything he knew he would want to hear.
Aesop didn’t know how long he spent there that night, but by the time morning came around, Mike had his clown costume back on, though when nobody was looking, Mike seemed to hold Aesop just a bit closer. And for the first time, Aesop wasn’t pushing physical affection away.
