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Michael POV

  Michael had almost gotten used to the quiet of Len being gone.

  He'd found relief in the lack of late-night wake up calls, he told himself. He didn't miss the two-AM panic attacks, that's for sure. And the absence of anyone climbing into his bed was nice.

  But still, he missed him. His big brother, who ended up needing taken care of far more often than he did any of the caring. It felt more like he was his younger brother half the time.

  He'd told himself it was annoying.

  And yet, here he was, unable to sleep. It was three-AM, and Michael was up and making coffee. His body felt so restless, he couldn't think of anything else to do. His whole world that he'd only just begun reassembling had shifted yet again.

  "Three months is not enough time to get used to something," he muttered.

  And it isn't enough to get un-used to it either. He sighed.

  I don't need coffee.

  He put the pot away and sat at the table, aiming to take in the quiet.

  What he got instead was a flurry of brain-made static and almost-thoughts that he couldn't get rid of. He set his head in his hands.

  After a moment, he decided to pull out his phone as a distraction.

  He wasn't sure how long he sat there scrolling, but eventually, he heard something— a sound he almost couldn't make out. Singing. Faint and scratchy and almost painful-sounding but nonetheless, it was definitely singing. He followed the noise down the hall.

  As he got closer, he realized it was coming from the newly re-inhabited bedroom. It was a cheery melody, but with the voice it was coming from, it sounded anything but.

  When he got to the door, he could finally make out the words.

    "Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer, do.

    I'm half-crazy, all for the love of you.

    It won't be a stylish marriage-

    I can't afford a carriage,

    But you'll look sweet upon the seat

    Of a bicycle built for two."

  Len paused, coughing.

  "You ok?"

  He swiveled his head around to see who was speaking, eyes puffy and red.

  "Oh, hi, Michael. Yeah, I'm fine."

  His voice was barely above a whisper. He sniffled and wiped his nose, his arm landing heavily beside him. Michael frowned and stepped toward the bed.

  "That's a good song. Where'd you learn it?"

  "I don't know. I just know it."

  Neither of them looked at the other.

  "Mind if I sit here?"

  "Sure, knock yourself out."

  Len pulled his feet in to make room, and Michael sat where they had been. The room was quiet, aside from the faint hum of idle electronics. Michael stared at Len.

  "What?"

  "Are you sure you're okay?"

  "Yeah, I told you. I just... I realized I hadn't actually cried in three months, so I figured it was about time." He chuckled lowly.

  "Right." He looked down, rubbing his neck. He couldn't help but be put off by Len's nonchalance.

  "What about you? Are you ok?" Len attempted inflection, but it caught in his throat, and he started coughing again. Michael handed him the water from his nightstand.

  "I'm gonna be honest, man, I'm a lot more worried about you."

  "Well I'm fine."

  Michael gave a look, so Len amended with

  "...for the most part."

  He chuckled, saying, "Sure," before the two fell back into a comfortable silence, which lasted for a few more minutes.

  "Hey, what did you come in here for, anyway?"

  "I-" he tried to search for a less embarrassing way to phrase it, but found nothing. "I was... hoping I could just listen to you sing."

  Len looked at his hands.

  "Alright. But you can't tell anyone, okay? I'm supposed to be resting." He had a look on his face that Michael couldn't quite decipher, but that was relatively common with Len.

  "Deal."

  As his brother sang quietly, Michael began to relax into the bed frame. Len's voice fit nicely into the spot in his mind where the static had been.

  Eventually, he was able to doze off.

***

  It was just before sunrise, and Michael woke up to a vacant bed. He was crumpled up at the end, half-covered by a thick blue blanket. It had been pushed away from the head of the bed, revealing the off-white of the sheets underneath.

  Michael stretched as he sat up.

  Len's bed was filled with even more stuffed animals than normal. His older ones looked run-down next to the pristine polyester fur of their new neighbors.

  Michael picked up the stuffed dog he'd gotten him and hugged it close to his chest. He felt the button inside it click, his own pre-recorded voice speaking back at him.

  "Get better soon," it said. "I'll be here when you wake up, even if Michael can't be."

  He sighed into its head.

  When he finally hoisted himself up from the mattress, his back ached from how he'd been laying. He grumbled as he made his way downstairs.

  The sun was creeping its way down the floorboards now, spotted with the shadows of things outside.

  In the kitchen were Sammi- reading something off her phone- and Len sat opposite her, sipping his decaf and nodding along. Len spotted Michael's entrance first, as usual. He got up to pour him a cup.

  "Nah, sit down. I got it." Michael patted his shoulder.

  Len frowned, but then relented anyway.

  Sammi started back up from where she left off.

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