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Clothes Over Bros- Wednesday

Someone had complained about the lingerie-clad would-be orgy in the store window today. Which was sort of offensive to Brooke, because she could have done way worse.

And in fact it was way worse until she got bored and changed it this morning before the complaining started. Like this was the worst anyone would see in this town.

Anyway, she was at the counter doing work for home, and still being a little annoyed. Her window was a masterpiece, dammit.

[Open!]

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Maybe Mike could ease the annoyance some? He hoped so, at least, because here he was. Complete with a paper bag in one hand.

"So this is the famed Clothes Over Bros, huh?" he said, sauntering in. "Kinda feel like I shouldn't be in. Pretty sure I'm the 'bro'."

“That might spend on why you’re here,” Brooke said, looking up at him. Since it’d been a while.

He knew it had been a while. Trust him, he knew, and he was kind of embarrassed, and had shown up with tricks up his sleeve in the hopes of making up for it.

"Got you lunch." Felt like he should just lead with that. "Well, uh, made you lunch. 'S not much."

Brooke blinked, coming out from behind the counter. "You made me lunch?"

Okay, he was off to a good start.

"It's just a meatball sub," Mike replied, raising the paper bag demonstratively. He pulled half a face, finding himself vaguely apologetic about this next bit. "I realized like halfway through that I don't actually know a ton about what you like, yet."

But that 'yet' was significant.

"Hope it's okay."

“That happens when you up and disappear with no notice or updates for months,” Brooke said pointedly, but she'd take the sandwich anyway.

Mike sighed.

"It was only supposed to be for a week," he said, as he was handing the sandwich bag over. "Like, for the record. Not that I'm saying that excuses anything."

“And I’m sure there wasn’t so much as a ‘happy new yesr’ text because of bad cell service, right?”

At least she wasn’t yelling!

There was that! It was a definite plus.

So Mike clearly had to push his luck with this next thing. "I know I probably shouldn't say this," he said, just barely raising a now-empty hand, "but, I just want it on the record that you didn't send me anything, either."

He was going to grovel anyway, because he had taken off unannounced, but he still had to make that point. He even sighed, right now, letting the hand drop. "I'm sorry, Brooke. It was a bullshit move. Didn't have anything to do with you, but I should've... not just left like that."

Okay maaaaybe it was a little early for luck-pushing.

“Oh, no, no, go back,” Brooke said. “I moved states here partly because there’s this guy I could have a real thing with. You take off without any explanation at the holidays, with no idea of what’s going on or where anything stands, and I’m supposed to make the first move?”

Well, at least she still wasn't exactly yelling.

"I didn't say supposed to, I just said you didn't." Nooot that much better, Mike. "But I fucked up, I know that."

“All right,” she said, putting the sandwich down so she could cross her arms over her chest. “So what happened?”

Mik scratched the back of his head, and sighed. He was really gonna have to do this, huh?

"Holidays," he said, trailing off for a second or two, "are bullshit."

And he didn't say it like that was the end of it, like that was the whole explanation. The reason he didn't immediately continue was that he was trying to figure out how to put it.

“Okay...” she said slowly, waiting for him to figure that out.

Mike leaned against a clothing rack. Or, tried to, and then just ended up resting his arm against it when he realized it was for sure going to topple it if he put too much of his weight against it.

And he was just trying to retain some protective layer of acting casual while he reached for some of the stuff he generally didn't talk about. To anyone.

"So I freaked out," he said. "No two ways about it. I, uh, I tried to hold on and just, like, ignore that it was coming, but..." He shrugged. It was awkward. "I flipped, and I ran, and I, I guess I went into hiding. Figured I'd come out again once all that family stuff was over."

"What's so bad that you had to leave, though?" Brooke asked. She'd mock the rack thing later. "It's not like I don't get terrible family stuff."

"Christmas just makes me, I don't know, antsy," he replied, shrugging. It was a little helpless, as far as gestures went. "Makes me want to not be around people."

"Is that all I get? What about New Year's, then?" she asked.

"Brooke, I'm trying."

He let go of the rack. Guess it got hard to pretend he was in any way relaxed right now.

"I'm trying, okay?" he repeated, now just standing there with all his non-casual glory. Great. "New Year's... I was, I was probably hiding from you because I know I fucked up with the Christmas thing. Took me a long time to get my head back on straight."

As was evident right now. He huffed a breath, rubbed his head. Goddammmit.

"Okay look, you wanna know about Christmas?"

"Yes," Brooke said simply.

She was prepared with hugs if they were needed, but the thought of this all happening again next year...

A year was a long time.

"Okay." He rubbed the bridge of his nose, then let his hand drop again as he looked up at her. "Christmas? Christmas is all -- family bullshit, right?"

She was worth getting into this. He hoped, anyway.

"Well, I don't have one."

"Like, you're orphaned or a runaway or something?" There wasn't any judgment in it, either. She was from somewhere where complicated family stuff was A Thing.

Five years on this goddamned island and he'd never said any of this out loud to anyone.

"Like I used to be a foster kid, but nothing lasts forever."

"Okay," she said, nodding. "It sucks that you went through that, but I get it now."

"Probably doesn't excuse the leaving, though."

He wanted it to. But he wasn't dumb enough to actually think that.

"I'm sorry."

"You know there's an actual productive way to deal," Brooke said, but she had dropped her arms and didn't look as upset. "You and that hot girl you're banging could go off somewhere and ignore it all, or do something non-Christmassy, and nothing big has to come up at all."

"Well when you say it like that, it sounds like the reasonable course of action," Mike replied, attemting a twitch of a smile and briefly getting there, too.

He shook his head. "But I wasn't thinking clearly." He was used to handling it his way. And by himself.

Brooke went quiet for a moment as she processed everything, and said, “Okay. This doesn’t happen again, though. And if you do need to get away or whatever, at least say something.”

"That's the plan," Mike said.

He felt... reasonably confident he could probably avoid pulling the same stunt again. Both because he'd actually told her something, and because she hadn't started immediately grilling him for the specifics of his tragic backstory.

Look, hey, he even dared to shift a little closer to her. "I will... learn about communication." That was half a joke. Half not.

“Good,” Brooke said, stepping closer herself. She’d give him the benefit of the doubt, because he was trying. “Also you realize you set yourself up for apologies right before Valentine’s Day, right?”

Mike raised his eyebrows like that was brand new information. It was not.

"Oh, did I?" he asked. "Does that mean I should make amends with grand gestures on or around Valentine's Day?"

“I mean, it would help,” Brooke said, like she wasn’t a sap who’d be into the day anyway.

"Well, if you say that, then I gotta do it," Mike decided, nodding. He settled a hand lightly on her hip. "Maybe I should start with something classic, like a dinner."

He was aware he'd never actually taken her out.

She was aware, too.

“Ooh, like a real date?” she said, sliding an arm around him.

"Yeah, exactly like a real date," he said. Smiling wider now that the threat of shoiting had most definitely passed. "But you're gonna have to tell me what kind of restaurants you're into, 'caise I am not doing the guessing game again."

That way lay meatball subs.

"Thai?" she suggested. "No need for guessing, though it's the effort that counts."

Like the meatball sub.

"Thai's a good choice." He would've said that regardless of what she picked (apart from a place that only sold cake, probably). "So Thai's what you're getting."

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Clothes Over Bros- Wednesday

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