Chapter Text
Mike couldn't help but stare wide eyed at the corps layed peacefully below him. It looked like Many other corpses in more than a few ways, sunken features, pale skin, limp hair as dry and lifeless as the body it was attached to. But no other corpse made these otherwise decrepit features look so beautiful. Light freckles held on for dear life across the man's cheeks, his dead hair was a brilliant ginger that likely could have looked like unruly fire when still alive, he even lifted his eyelids to get a look at what many call the window to the soul, the piercing emerald green of the left eye stared emptily, while the right eye was just an undecorated glass eye, simply there to support the eyelid. No one was home, but Mike knew that already. It was a beautiful window, at least.
Still, Mike couldn't help but admire the beauty of this body in particular. He was instantly smitten.
Carefully, Mike lifted the man out of the casket, setting him gently on the grass outside the hole before climbing out himself and lifting this- he looks at the gravestone- Jeremy Fitzgerald into his arms bridal style. It was difficult with how atrophied his body was, but he could do it, he has many times now.
Step by step, Mike moved to his house, sat just past the edge of the cemetery and through a small gate. He carried the body to his shed that sat next to it and pushed through the propped open door. Once inside, he sat Jeremy on the slightly blood stained table, carefully unbuttoning the suit he was buried in once he was down.
Once he was shirtless, Mike couldn't help but run his fingers down the Y shaped incisions. This one had a proper autopsy, probably part of a police investigation. Though it seems silly to Mike, his cause of death was obvious given the plastic mold and fake skin covering the upper right side of his face. His head was reconstructed for the sake of the family and the funeral, so probably a brain injury. Who knows, maybe they just needed organ weights for their records, it made Mike's job easier.
He jolts as he realized his hand was still tracing the incision, so he quickly pulled it away. If he had any actual blood he's sure he would be blushing right now, luckily there's no one here but him and the corpse.
Mike coughs in his hand, seeing the black droplets that had landed in his palm, he can't help but grimace. He needs to get to work, he's procrastinated long enough already.
He picks up a knife and starts carefully cutting the stitches until the skin was free, allowing him to fold back the loose flesh and see into the body, he smiles at seeing everything was here. Except the appendix, he must have had it removed, there really was so much you could learn from the organs. Piece by piece, he took the man apart, setting the organs off to the side for now just to get them out of the way. Once he was empty, Mike took a moment to think, before coming to a decision. Lilies would fit him perfectly!
Mike left the shed, returning a few minutes later with a basket of his most beautiful flowering lilies, and with a smile, he begins setting the blooms into Jeremy's empty cavity. By the time he was done, he could see he was absolutely right, the flowers complimented his beauty so perfectly. God, if only neither of them were dead, he'd ask this Jeremy fella out in a heartbeat.
He looked over to the small window just over the door, revealing the slowly brightening sky. Damn, it seems the time for admiring was over already, he had to bring Jeremy back to his grave. Such a genuine shame someone so beautiful would be hidden under six feet of dirt. With one more look to try and commit the mans soft features to memory, he picks up a needle and thread and starts closing him back up. Less than two hours later, Mike was patting the disturbed soil with his shovel to make it sit flat once more.
He let out a sigh once he was done, already missing the face that made his liquifying heart flutter. "Goodbye Jeremy, I do appreciate the help. I promise to take care of you in return."
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A few days passed, and Mike couldn't get that Jeremy guy out of his head, which was saying a lot. Mike's memory isn't what someone would call good. If he's not trying, memories can slip through his fingers like grains of sand. He supposed that's what happens when your brain turns into a milkshake before you repossess your body, or maybe it just comes with the territory of being dead. Whatever the reason, there's very little he can remember without holding said memories in a death grip.
Memories of his life were the worst off. Off the top of his head, he remembers his death, he had two siblings, and they were both dead because of him. One of them he didn't keep a close enough eye on, and the other he killed in cold blood. He can't ever seem to hold onto their names until he's cleaning their graves. He knows he had a mom and a dad, but he feels like those are memories he doesn't want to dig up. That's the thing. Mike knows he could remember his life if he wanted to, his childhood was all there in his head. But something tells him he's happier with it forgotten, the good and the bad.
Michael _____ was dead, and Mike the cemetery groundskeeper could live in ignorant bliss of what the kid had gone through.
It wasn't all sunshine and rainbows, however. In Mike's current state, he couldn't talk to anyone. If ever someone caught a glimpse of his face, it would be a disaster. When he still tried to fit into society like this, his mask slipped at the wrong moment and frightened the man in front of him. In terms of fight or flight, the man chose to wack Mike hard with a hammer he was holding. He's still got a dent in his skull from where it landed, even if it didn't break through. From that day forth, Mike decided it was too much of a risk, and isolated himself to the cemetery, only to leave when he needed to buy something.
It was safer, but Mike got terribly lonely. They say that when left in isolation for a prolonged period of time, humans can go insane, and oh boy was Mike feeling that. He got so desperate, that after a split second of remembering his friends in highschool, he went out and bought plushies of some animal group, faz something, the name is on the tip of his tongue.. What's better, even if he can't remember the names of his old friends that the toys represent, the plushies come with helpful little names on their tags.
So that leads us to now, as Mike paces up and down in the main room of his house, the three plushies sat on the table in their usual spot as Mike speaks to them. "No, Fred, you don't get it. He was beautiful! If my lungs weren't mostly melted that day I could have said he took my breath away." He paused for a moment as he pretended to listen to his friends talk, before snorting out a laugh. "You asshole. I'll have you know, I can be as cheesy as I want, I'm in love!" He lets out a sigh. Already his new heart flutters at the thought of its previous owner. "Even when he was laying there with the lilies filling his torso, he looked radiant. My best work, I think, though with how gorgeous the canvas was I think it was inevitable."
He moves over and sits at the table, his head in his hand. He looks at the Chica doll as if it were speaking to him.
Whatever it said must have been funny, as once again Mike snorts. "Ha! Chica, man, you always were the romantic. But I can't just go digging him up every time I want to be with him, that'd be a lot of work." He sits quietly again. "No, I can't just dig him up and keep him here . It would be like having an unconscious guy living in your house, it'd just be weird. Besides, if I'm with him, I want him to have a say. Heck, I want him to say anything! I'd do anything just to have a conversation with him."
It's Bonnie this time that gets his attention, the rabbit making Mike's eyes go wide as the corpse stands, the chair screeching as it moves back behind him. He glances at the others as they speak as well.
He gives a nervous smile. "You guys can't be serious. How would I even get that stuff? What if it doesn't work? What if-" he's cut off, Mike swallows a lump in his throat. "Yes.. I want someone to talk to more than anything." He's quiet again as he bounces his leg in place. "Okay, look, even if we go through with this, where are we supposed to get-" Mike blinked. "What facility?" … "Circus Baby's? It sounds familiar.. I don't think I want to go there." … "I-.. I did say I'd do anything, but -" …. Mike let out a sigh as he gave into his friends suggestion. "Fine. Do you know the way?"