Chapter Text
The wind moving in the vehicle, warm and soothing, made Michael's eyelids heavy. He would kill for the ability to close his eyes right now, to sleep. But he knew if he slept, he'd dream, and he didn't want that. It didn't help that the sun was too bright, which was a strike against this new place. Yeah, sure, the sun in Phoenix was bright, too, but it was a different color, okay? Different tones. The way the light shined on the road to Santa Carla made his head hurt. He was already in pain and aching from the drive, so why not have a headache to just top the whole experience off?
The air tasted wrong. Sam was right about that. There was a salt smell lingering on the breeze, but something else was there, too. Something decaying lingered heavily in every breath. It smelled like a warning.
Michael noticed Lucy's eyes watching him carefully in the rear view mirror. He let his lips tilt upwards in a hollow smile. Smile for Sam, Michael. Pretend everything is okay for Sam. He can never know, right, Michael?
He'd promised to be a good brother to Sam. He'd never tell him how bad it got back in Phoenix. He'd never show him the extent to which their dad had-
It was just better not to think about it while he was in a small enclosed space with his mom. His bank of fake smiles was running out and his smile-credit line was canceled. He'd think about it later. When they were settled down and he could close the door in his bedroom and just breathe.
It didn't stop the anger from boiling in his stomach. Every pothole caused another pull of his seat belt, another press against bruised flesh hidden underneath his shirt. The ride had been long and he'd been so careful not to express any hint of discomfort so he didn't feel like asking for a painkiller. Tylenol didn't do much anyway.
He could thank his lucky stars that his face made it out okay. It was just underneath. It was like a reminder, making sure he didn't forget Phoenix anytime soon.
It was Sam's eyes this time, when he glanced at the mirror to see if his mom was watching him again. Another fake smile from Michael.
It made him feel like a soldier sometimes. Like he'd been trained to act like this, to take it on the chin – almost literally. He was stuck pretending nothing was wrong.
He hated it.
Especially when all he wanted was to sleep. He looked out the window so he could at least let his face relax a little. He stifled a yawn. Everything was so stupid for him. Normal people didn't have to deal with this. Normal people- Sam! Sam could sleep. Not Michael, though. Not the one who probably needed the rest the most.
“We're almost there, honey,” Lucy told him.
“No problem,” Michael said.
“Oh, no,” Sam groaned as he twisted the dial on the radio station to a song that immediately had their mom laughing and dancing in her seat.
“That's from my era!” she said with a grin. This time when Michael smiled, it was real. It had been a long time since Lucy had smiled like that and it made him happy. For a little while, it was going to be nice to see her happy.
It's just that he knew it wasn't going to last forever. He knew how this chapter of their lives ended. It didn't matter if they moved to Santa Carla. It changed nothing. He knew the ending of the story.
This was the summer that Michael Emerson was going to die.
***
The thing about pretending everything is alright is that sometimes you start to believe it. Even if it's only ten minutes at a time. He could roll his eyes and smile at his grandfather playing dead. He could help his mom unload the car and take boxes into the house.
The thoughts never fully went away, though.
“Why do you get the bigger room?” Sam complained, putting a box of comic books on his bed. Michael could hear him through the shared bathroom.
“Because I'm older,” Michael said. This was one of the moments where he couldn't keep from thinking, Besides, it's only temporary. Sam could have the bigger room when he was gone.
“Right, so you're probably going to move out sooner,” Sam said. He poked his head through the door to look at Michael's room. “If I'm stuck here longer than you, I should get the better room!”
“Oh yeah?” Michael replied, desperate to stop his own brain. He gave Sam a lopsided, menacing grin. “You sure about that?”
Sam was already laughing. Just like he had when he was little and Michael used to give him the same look before chasing him through the house. “NO!”
“Not so tough now,” Michael said, and he started after Sam, who was already running and laughing down the stairs, calling for their mom. Michael leapt off of the staircase and ran after his brother, his hand pressed to his side. Sam flung open the doors to their grandfather's workshop and Michael froze.
Those antlers.
He knew those antlers.
Michael's blood turned to ice in his veins and he felt dizzy. Those were the antlers.
He stayed still for too long. His eyes quickly looked around, and saw that his mom was staring at him with a stricken expression. The problem with Lucy was she might not be the best at taking care of herself, but she was great at reading her sons. She'd seen that recognition dawn on Michael's face too many times.
Moving to Santa Carla wasn't going to change the things that Michael saw.
“Michael?”
He looked back at the antlers and swallowed.
“I'm going out, Mom,” he said quickly. He started for the door, snagging a denim vest off the top of one of the boxes on his way. He didn't need it but something about the hard fabric made him feel more like he was wearing armor. Like he'd be better protected somehow.
“Michael, don't-”
“I'm fine. I'm just going to check out the boardwalk,” Michael told her.
“I'll come with you!” Sam said.
“Don't bother,” Michael called over his shoulder. Poor kid. He had no idea what was going on between Michael and his mom.
It was a little satisfying to slam the door closed, though. He didn't have his keys so it looked like he was stuck walking in... okay, he didn't actually know what direction.
He knew it wasn't going to happen tonight, though. He never knew when they came true... just that they would. He could have days, he could have months. But the antlers were a warning.
Michael was running out of time.
The door slammed open and closed again.
"Wait!"
"Sam, go back in," Michael said, already halfway down his Grandpa's driveway. His brother didn't listen. When did he ever?
"You can't leave me here," Sam complained. "It's a house of horrors."
"You can't come with me," Michael snapped, desperate for a moment to himself. Sam wasn't budging. He rolled his eyes. "Fine. Fine, whatever."
They started to talk together towards the boardwalk.
“So... what was that back there?” Sam asked. Michael couldn't look at him. He didn't want to see those big, innocent, little kid eyes that his brother had. At least one of them was allowed to be a kid. “You were kind of mean to Mom. Looked like you had a panic attack.”
He couldn't tell him. Literally, he wasn't allowed. Lucy had made him swear early on that he'd never worry Sam with these... things that he knew. Eventually, he'd learned to keep it to himself for the most part. It was only on accident that Lucy found out about the most recent one.
“It's nothing,” Michael told him. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Let it go.”
“It's not nothing, Mike. You looked like you'd seen a ghost,” Sam said. “Then you walked out the way Dad did-”
“You know what,” Michael said, his tone harsher than he meant it to be. He stopped in the dusty road to stare at his brother. “You can shut up about Dad or you can go back in the house. You don't know what the hell you're talking about.”
Sam seemed to be weighing the options. He could shut up and pretend everything was fine, the way Michael always had to pretend, or he could go back into the house with their mom and Grandpa while Michael went off and probably got into something fun. He huffed. “Okay, okay. I'll shut up.”
Michael nodded and then started walking again, leaving it to Sam to either catch up or get left behind. He really needed to be nicer about spending time with Sam. After all, it would all be over soon.