Michael realized too late he had backed himself up into a corner. It didn’t come when he kissed Sophie and didn’t look twice in Terry’s direction. It wasn’t even when Terry approached him, all but vibrating with anger and accusations that, to be honest, Michael deserved entirely. It took Terry unloading, saying more to him than Michael thinks he’s ever heard — more emotion and pain and anger and hatred than anyone deserves to carry — to realize how deeply he’d fucked up.
He wanted to reach out, to say something — anything — to Terry’s retreating form that would make him turn around, make him understand, make him forgive. But Michael knew his time was up. Sorry felt too empty, hollow and overused; every time he let it fall from his lips, so easily and carelessly, it lost a little, dulled and dimmed until it meant less than nothing at all. He couldn’t apologize, not enough, and anything else would just be another attack, another fight for the last word.
He could leave it there, let Terry go and accept that maybe, finally, Michael got what he deserved. How likely was it he’d end the year with his two best friends, anyway? Surely this was the easier route: rip the plaster off all in one go, lose them both at once. Because that’s what’s going to happen, and Michael knew it. Terry would retreat to Anthony, tell him in perfect detail what happened and the two would agree on which of them should be booted off the island. It wasn’t even a question.
“Terry, wait. I—” Michael reached into the space between them, closing his fist around Terry’s shirt just enough to make him hesitate, and then released. What could he say? Nothing was enough, and Michael was too drunk to piece the right words together. With a start, he realized the sting in his eyes were tears. He sniffed and hoped Terry didn’t notice. So long Michael told himself he didn’t deserve his friends, they were better off without him. Finally, he found himself on the precipice he’d all but fantasized about. It wasn’t supposed to hurt this much. He wasn’t supposed to feel this bad. It wasn’t supposed to be his fault. But it was, and there was no taking that back.
“No, fuck it, you’re right.” How pathetic. All the words tumbled out of him, like if he waited to long between them Terry would loose his patience and leave regardless. “Fucking - fuck, you’re right, okay? I don’t care — about anyone. I don’t care and I don’t think and I just do whatever I want and I think about the consequences later. I do, I know that, and I don’t have an answer for why. I just know you’re better than that, better than me, and fuck it - you don’t deserve me. I mean, fuck if I know why you’re still here, why you even still talk to me. You’re so good, and kind, and smart, and everything a friend should be.” He took a quick ragged breath. “I am sorry. I am. And I know it isn’t enough, it’ll never be enough, so I just — I don’t know, fuck. I don’t know. I know you don’t deserve me, or Sophie, or any of this shit. You deserve the whole goddamned world. ”
By the end of it he was breathing heavy, tears blurring his vision until Terry was vague shapes ringed in light rather than his best friend. Despite himself, Michael reached up to wipe them away with haste. “You stay, I’ll go, okay? I’ll go.”
Disappointment tasted bitter. Especially the kind he felt towards the boy who had wrapped a fist around his shirt. Terry paused regardless of his own feelings because how rare was it that Michael reached out to someone else. So he listened past his heart beating in his ears as his best friend, somewhat, poured his heart out to him. Admittance, apology, humbleness-- it was surprising.
He knew that Michael was crying. For a moment, Terry truly regretted every word that had come out of his mouth just moments earlier. Was it really that bad? Was it so terrible that he’d kissed Sophie? That he wouldn’t apologize for something out of his control? He felt remorseful but not enough that would have him turn and apologize himself-- at least not yet. Not until he gave himself time to process all that they said, analyze it and turn it over again. His heart hurt right now-- split between Sophie and Michael. It wasn’t even, he realized. Michael was more important.
Tears burned at his own eyes as he looked over his shoulder at the boy behind him, finding him wiping at his eyes. Terry shook his head, “It’s whatever, Mikey. The common room isn’t that small. We can both stay.” A sigh left him as he reached up to give Michael’s wrist a reassuring squeeze to let him know that it wasn’t hate that he felt-- just sadness. Before Michael could say anything else Terry made his way across the room. ( FIN )
