Mileven One-Shots

Someone

And here I am again with another song based one shot from my Mileven playlist

This one shot is a bit longer than the other ones and contains some Mom and Son moments, along with some Mileven at the end. 

WARNING: Talk of Depression and a death of a loved one

(Just want to make it clear: I am not making fun of people with depression, or just the disorder by itself. It's not something to joke about. It is a serious thing that people struggle with on a daily basis. I would never, ever, make fun of something like that. This chapter was just an idea that came to mind after reading something similar to it. I hope no one gets offended by anything, and if you do, I am truly sorry. I did look up some things on it to make sure all the doctor's questions were accurate, as were Mike's answers. Again, not poking fun, just a harmless chapter for readers to read because we all enjoy some angst every once in a while)

With that cleared up: 

Enjoy!

"But you don't have to go through this on your own

'Cause everybody needs a little help sometimes

Everybody needs someone to call on

Everybody gets a little lost inside..." 

----1987----

"That's the third time this week you haven't eaten, Micheal," Karen says, setting down her fork as she watches her son from across the table, picking at his food with his own fork instead of actually eating it. "Not to mention how you've been acting the past month. When's the last time you've hung out with Lucas? Dustin? Will? Mike, this isn't healthy." She glances at her husband, Ted, to see if he has anything to say about their son's behavior but he's too busy enjoying his chicken to care, and she sighs, glancing back at Mike. "Well?" 

"I just don't feel well," Mike mumbles, pushing himself away from the table and standing up, sauntering toward the staircase, ignoring his mom's worried voice calling out to him to at least eat his dinner. His feet travel up the steps, feeling heavy sand bags, and he sighs when he reaches the top of the stairs. Blinking back tears that are threatening to spill, Mike's fingers wrap around the cool doorknob to his bedroom, twisting and pushing the door open, closing it once he's safely inside. 

His eyes travel around the room, eyebrows furrowed, taking in his twin bed with deep blue comforter, white walls covered in posters and pictures, the desk to his right, and the slightly ajar closet door. The skin between his brows pinch in confusion as he walks over to his bed, sitting down on the edge of it, his breath hitching in his chest. An orange glow makes it into his line of vision and his head turns to the right, his eyes catching the beam of afternoon sunlight, but it's too bright and he stands to draw the curtains closed. Releasing a breath, Mike flops into his back against his bed, gaze trained on the ceiling. 

He doesn't know what it is, what this feeling inside him is, or why he's feeling like this. It was unusual, foreign to him. He constantly felt winded, vision blurred by tears, a constant feeling of worry, lights and the sun being to bright, a heavy feeling upon his chest, sadness overtaking his body, and he had no idea why the hell it was happening. It wasn't like he had a bad life; he had a nice home, food on the table, a wonderful mother, two great sisters (even though one was away at college for the time being), and his dad had even started to step into play as his father instead of sitting around all day. There was no reason to feel this way, right?

Racking his brain for anything saddening in the past weeks, months, or even years, Mike could only think of one thing. Around a month ago, he (and the rest of his family) had received a devastating phone call from the nursing home in Fort Wayne. His Nana had passed away in her sleep after five months of being diagnosed with cancer. She had lost her fight. Of course, Mike had cried, it was his Nana after all, and he'd cried at her funeral. But then the crying stop and he was rid of all emotions.