Mike should really learn to keep his mouth cut (Tre/Mike)
Mike thinks something's wrong when he wakes to the sound of Tré retching in the bathroom.
He's positive something's wrong the next day, when he catches Tré staring into the bathroom mirror and pushing his stomach flat.
“What are you doing? You're already skinny enough.” Mike says, looking his boyfriend up and down. When he gets no response, he sighs and leaves. As soon as Tré is positive he's out of earshot, he too sighs and hangs his head. He drags his eyes sadly to the stomach he was flattening when Mike caught him. He’s not pretty, and he’s not beautiful. He’s not flawless and he’s definitely not the best Mike could get. His stomach rolls defiantly and he’s almost in tears as he rolls his shirt up and tries desperately to flatten his stomach and make himself prettier; for Mike’s sake more than his.
He slides two fingers down his throat and presses; presses hard until he gags and heaves out his insides into the sink. This is Tré’s best trait, he’s sure of it.
Mike starts to worry about Tré after the drummer turns down sex and then leaves for Claudia's.
They'd been making out, and all Mike had tried to do was push up Tré’s shirt so he'd take it off. Tré had reacted like he'd been shocked by electric; he flinched away and pulled Mike's hand as far away as he could physically get it. He then got up, grabbed shoes and a hoodie before mumbling about going to see Claudia and then leaving.
Mike's first thought was that Tré was cheating on him, but the tears in his eyes as he left confirmed that wasn't true.
“Claudia, I… I can’t do this. I can’t.” Tré’s sobbing into Claudia’s shoulder and it’s a horrible feeling.
“,Tré if he makes you feel this way - if he makes you feel like you have to change for him to love you - then there’s an eighty percent chance he didn’t love you in the first place.” She replies, rubbing circles in his back.
He just cries harder.
Mike really starts to panic when Tré stops eating. They're at lunch together and once again, Tré has a barely touched coffee while Mike goes all out.
Mike looks at his boyfriend anxiously over a pot of microwaveable noodles. Tré stares blankly down into the creamy brown liquid in the cup before him.
“Tré, please eat something.” Mike says, making the other male look up from his coffee “You're scaring me.”
Tré watches - almost in fear - as Mike pushes a yogurt and spoon across the table. He shakes his head.
“Tré, please.” The bassist shakes his head again.
“Tré, you're seriously scaring me now. You have to eat something. Even if I have to get Billie and Jason to pin you down. And don't say you're not hungry; you can't not be hungry for two days!” Mike is standing now, still around the opposite side. Tré hasn't moved, his huge eyes fixed upwards staring at Mike.
“And I know maybe you think you're fat and ugly or whatever, but you should know that I don't!” Mike is close to tears now.
“When I hug you I can feel your ribs. Do you have any idea how terrified that makes me feel?”
Tré looks down at his feet and shakes his head.
“Think of how scared you get before we go on planes and then multiply that by infinity.”
Tré glances upwards at the elder, guilt fogging his vision. He finally stands and walks over to Alex.
“That's really scared.” Tré says quietly.
“I know.” Mike replies, his voice barely a whisper.
Tré’s at a loss for what to do or say, so he's relieved when Mike speaks again.
“What on earth made you think you were fat in the first place?”
Tré looks at him nervously. He always knew that this discussion would happen, and he knows he has to tell Mike without sugar-coating everything.
“The fat jokes.” He says quietly, hanging his head. And before he even registers their existence, there's a few tears slipping down Tré's cheeks. And then suddenly Tré is sobbing uncontrollably and wiping his eyes furiously with his jacket. He doesn’t even look up when Mike touches his arm lightly.
“I was… I was going to stop when I could count my ribs without breathing in.” Tré announces, fixing his gaze on his shoes, “I… I never got that far.”
Mike sighs heavily and raggedly, sliding his hand down Tré’s arm until their hands fall together. He absently raises a hand to Tré’s chest but the drummer swats him away lightly.
Mike looks at him quizzically and Tré doesn’t look back at him.
“I’m not… I’m not pretty enough.”
Tré fixes his gaze on something above Mike’s head and the other sees the full extent of the tears that track his cheeks.
Mike reaches up with his free hand and cups Tré’s chin gently, forcing the drummer to look down at him.
“Now, listen to me. Don’t you ever think you’re not good enough for me, or that you’re not beautiful. If anything it’s the opposite. Jesus Christ, Tré - you’re so goddamn gorgeous, and it makes me feel so damn terrible knowing that I ,being an asshole ,made you feel this way. Like you’re not worth it.”
Mike is crying a little now, and it’s mainly from guilt than anything else.
“You really mean that?” Tré asks quietly, raising Mike’s chin slightly, “Everything you just said?”
“Shit, Tré, you’re everything. All I’ve got that I know will never leave. You’re beautiful, gorgeous, stunning and I could stand here listing adjectives all day but I know you already get it. You have no idea how guilty I feel knowing I made you feel like that. Was it seriously just me and my stupid mouth and those stupid jokes I thought were funny?”
Tré bites his lip hard, and nods gently.
Mike sighs raggedly and guiltily again.
“I know… I know that it probably won’t change a thing, but I take it back. All of the stupid pathetic jokes I made. I never meant to bring you down. Holy shit, Tré, I love you. And you’re beautiful and funny and most definitely not fat.”
Tré smiles weakly and doesn’t move. M looks at him and returns a smile.
He steps towards him and for the first time in weeks, Tré doesn’t move away.
He hugs Tré gently, and he’s skinnier than Mike remembers but he can help him past that - he knows he can. Tré dips his head a little and kisses Mike, a small smile on his lips.
And it’s then that Tré knows everything just might be okay.