Still in Chicago - Day Two
Everything had felt as if it had gone wrong at work even though it didn't, but as the minutes simply passed by a bit slower than the previous one, Michael felt as if he was suffocating in the small office where he, DJ, Aaron, and two other people he had never met before talked about the restaurant. Well, finalized plans, actually, since they were technically done, but... He couldn't wait to just leave. He wasn't looking forward to that date in February when his restaurant would finally be open, he was looking more forward to that hour the next day when he'd be sitting in his seat, flying to New York City. At the moment he actually preferred working with Jack rather than being in Chicago with DJ - that was just a damn disturbing thought.
As Aaron and the two other men left (Michael had already forgotten their names the second they had stood up from their seats) Michael gathered his papers so he could leave from the office and go back to the peace and quiet of his room until the hell of dinner time came around again. DJ simply stayed at his seat, leaning back against it as he watched Michael. "You're going to New York after this?"
"Yup," Michael responded flatly, not looking his way. "And then back to Boston."
"Why New York? I thought-"
Michael turned to his brother and, at once, responded, "I have some things to do."
The finality of his response almost made DJ cringe - it meant there was more behind that statement than what Michael really wanted to let on. And there was only one thing that came to mind. "Please don't tell me you're back with... With those people you worked with." He waited, expecting an answer (preferably an honest 'no') but it never came. If anything, the expression on Michael's face only seemed to confirm it. "What are you up to, Michael? You can't-"
"Don't start with your little lecture, because I don't need it."
"You don't?" DJ's anger was starting to show, but it made him oblivious to the one Michael was feeling. The one that, if he actually noticed, would let him know it was a bad idea to keep on talking. "Seems to me like you do need it, because you don't get it, do you? Didn't your friend almost get killed? Eddie?"
Michael's fists clenched, tightening his hold on the folder he had been holding, but now he was too busy trying to simply not lose his temper. Not yet. "Don't bring that up," he warned almost through clenched teeth. Except, instead of taking the hint, DJ kept on talking. "I don't want to get a phone call one day, Michael, where I'm told that you're in a hospital. I really don't want to get that call, where I get to listen to how many gunshot wounds you have, and how there's nothing they can do for you!"
It was then, at that moment, that something inside of Michael snapped. "Oh, that's right, because that's my job, isn't it? Waiting for the fucking phone call where they tell me that you died? It's me the one that will listen to how you slipped away, isn't it? I'm sorry then," he finished as he slammed the folder . But he didn't care; he was past caring at this point, his only goal was to walk out of the room before things got out of hand.
"Michael, listen-"
"No. No!" He almost snarled the word as he turned around to face him again, the anger and frustration he'd been bottling up surfacing slowly. "You fucking listen: I don't need you to tell me what to do, and what not to do. I already have enough with my damn conscience to really listen to you right now. And you have no right-"
"No right?" The anger came back in an outburst, but now it was DJ's turn, making him stand up at once. "No right? Are you kidding me? I'm your brother!"
Michael scoffed at once, his frown deepening. "Now you're my brother. you find out your brother could be in trouble and then your role as the oldest kicks in. That's how it works?"
"It's not just when you're in trouble-"
That only angered Michael even more, but he simply glared at him. A cold, hard glare that made DJ's own to go away. "I've been back, working in New York, since Logan left. Willingly, I mean, because I've been back since before that; except I was being blackmailed then." He did his very best to keep his voice leveled, to not keep yelling so as to not attract the attention of anybody in the house, but it was hard to really care anymore. "You never noticed, did you? The bruises I'd get? The absences? No, you were too busy pushing everyone out of your life to notice, weren't you. You never noticed a damn thing."
For a moment there was no answer, not until DJ shook his head. "No, I...guess I didn't."
"Of course not. Because if you would have noticed then it would have meant that you weren't hiding, exactly how you have been."
"Michael-"
"I tried, you know. Each day I'd try, to help you. To make you see, finally see, that you're not the nothing you're making yourself be. You're so, so much better than that failure you think you are. But you wouldn't listen. You never listened. And when you got sick again, really sick during Christmas, all I could think of was how you wouldn't believe me. How my brother, the one I'm so fucking proud of, thinks he's a goddamn failure. How I couldn't change how you felt. How you thought you were dying all alone, but everybody who loves you was right there. With you, but you didn't care."
His throat felt as if it was closing in with each word he said, but he couldn't drop the subject. He wouldn't, not now that DJ seemed to be listening for once. "Why, DJ, why can't you...see that you're so much more than what you tell yourself you are? I know you're going to die, and I know I can't stop it, but I can't-... I can't tell you it's okay, not until you see for yourself that you're so much better than this. You don't deserve having your children beating you down, when you already do a fine job all on your own. And I can't stand it, I can't just sit here and watch them just...destroy you. I can't do it." A small, bitter chuckle came out of his throat. "But you know just...what really gets to me? That I know that I've done all I can, but in the end I'll still blame myself. I'll still hate myself for not being able to help you. For not being able to just...make you see."
DJ, who had been listening as Michael talked, now noticed how those same eyes that seemed so cold and relentless simply showed how drained he was starting to feel. Michael had never been one to talk much about he felt, but now that he had his whole energy seemed to have gone away as quickly as how the anger flared up. Seeing him, watching him suddenly look so much older but at the same time so much younger than what he really was, made DJ wonder just what else he had missed from his brother's life; if there was more problems in his life than what he'd ever tell them.
"You do realize," DJ finally said quietly, finding it extremely hard to find his own voice again. "You realize that I could say the same thing to you? That you're so hard on yourself, and no one can ever change your mind. That you isolate yourself from everybody when you hurt, and you never let anybody in. That you're sinking yourself to that level you never wanted to go back to, because you think you deserve it."
Michael smiled a lifeless smile as he grabbed his coat from the couch, suddenly feeling more tired than what he had been in days. "Yeah, you're probably right. We're brothers after all; we're bound to be somewhat alike. Except I can't ever crumble and shatter to pieces on my own, I end up needing someone in the end even if I hate admitting it. You, you push your own wife away. Your children. You know what's a huge difference, Deej? That I see how I'm losing you and I keep trying to hold on, but you're the one leaving and you push me away. So, the way I see it, you have no right to really lecture me. You have plenty of children to do that to, and I'm not one of them. So, do me a favor and stop trying to; you can save the energy you'd put into that and save it for when you want to hide and push us all away again."
It was like a slap in the face for DJ; a slap that, for the first time, he was actually feeling the effects of it. But Michael didn't notice, he simply started to leave.
"Where are you going?"
Stopping at the door, he didn't bother to turn around as he answered. "Out. I need a drink, I'll be back later. I still have to work tomorrow." He didn't wait for an answer, not wanting it rather than not expecting it, and left without saying anything else.