<span style="font-family: 'Georgia'">It wouldn't be until Theo noticed Michael startle at his snapped words, the caged look in his eyes that he'd realize he'd fucked up. Hurrying to apologize even as the damage had already been done. Whatever fragile trust that'd been between them shaken as the other went out of his way to keep away from Theo as he headed for the couch. Not wanting to crowd Michael, Theo kept himself still, settling back against the counters edge.  <br/>
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It'd been so long since Theo had talked about their parents, or his life before that it choked him up when Michael mentioned their mother. Theo had gone out of his way to avoid thinking of the past. Throwing himself into his art, surrounding himself with people to distract himself when he couldn't stand being alone, and when those two didn't quite do the trick he turned to the bottle. Seeking solace and temporary oblivion. Oblivion he always woke up from with regret weighing heavy on his soul.<br/>
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But there in the living room with Micheal he allowed himself to dwell. To dunk his head beneath the waves and let them take him where it pleased. "You and your obsession with pickles," he laughed softly, "I actually don't hate pickles, you know. I just loved the way your eyes would light up when I gave you mine...It was worth a few less pickles." Theo's eyes swam with unshed tears and he was reminded once again why he preferred to leave the past exactly where it was: In the past. Nothing good came out of remembering. It was just picking at a scab. Reopening a wound that hadn't truly healed.<br/>
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But Michael had opened the flood gates in Theo and he found that once he started he couldn't stop. Reminiscing over childhood injuries and brotherly fights, their parents and the infinite warmth and love they seemed to emit. The one time in Theo's life where he had experienced pure and unconditional love. Where he had never doubted whether he was truly wanted.<br/>
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By the time the front desk ringed to let him know the food had arrived Theo's face was wet with tears. And he let out a wet laugh as he scrubbed at his face, "I'll have you know I don't usually cry this much." He hadn't even cried that much when their parents were murdered and Michael had been taken. Too numb to feel much of anything at the time. <br/>
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He headed for the door to grab their food, quickly returning two white paper bags of piping hot food and a cup carrier with their drinks, "Come get it while it's still hot." Setting everything down on the kitchen counter, he grabbed for his cherry fudge shake knowing that if he tried to force himself to eat he'd be sick later. </span>