estemick period piece... fate & choice...
hi:) have uh. 1.5k of whatever this is. heavily inspired by esteban saying that if he had anything to say, his choice would be mick.
Mick first hears about it through Kevin.
“Did you hear?” Kevin asks him. Something about his voice is wary, cautious; like he’s not sure he should be bringing it up at all.
They’re in the stables, tending to the horses. Mick shouldn’t be - not anymore, his mother has made that perfectly clear. He’s got other responsibilities now, he can’t be wasting his time doing farm hand work. But there’s something calming about being out here, away from the stuffy air of his dad’s old office and the piles of paperwork he has no idea what to do with, yet. This is simple. Easy.
“Hear what?” Mick asks back, without pausing his movements. He’s brushing Sophie, one of their older horses.
Kevin hesitates before he speaks again, eyes searching Mick’s face for god knows what.
“About Ocon.”
That makes Mick falter, the brush almost falling out of his hands. He keeps his eyes fixed on Sophie, clears his throat. “What about him?”
He hasn’t spoken to Esteban in a few days; the farm keeps him busy, and he knows Esteban has his own things to deal with. His family is struggling lately, he’d told him the last time they’d spoken, and it was clear that it was taking its toll on him. Mick had offered to help - the farm was doing okay, maybe they could give them a loan or something, but Esteban had shook his head, refused. He’s always been like that; too proud and stubborn to accept anyone’s help.
Mick has always found it both infuriating and infatuating.
“He’s getting married,” Kevin says, and Mick feels like all of the air has been punched out of him.
The hand he’s got settled against Sophie to keep her still clenches, the one that’s holding the brush stops completely. His vision swims, just a little, his heartbeat heavy in his ears. Then he shakes himself, clears his throat, goes back to brushing.
“Oh,” he says, still not looking at Kevin. There are a million thoughts running through his head, but he can’t make sense of any of them. He blinks, rapid, tries to keep his breath steady.
“I take it you didn’t know.”
It’s a statement, not a question. There’s a note of sympathy there, in his words, that makes Mick wonder how much Kevin knows. He doesn’t dare ask.
He clears his throat. “No,” he says, voice coming out rougher than he would have liked it. “I have to-” he takes a step away from the horse, “there are some papers that I have to look at. You’ll finish up here, right?”
“Sure thing, boss,” Kevin says, but Mick barely even registers it before he’s rushing out of the stables.
//
In the forest just on the edge of the Schumacher farm, there's a clearing with a little lake. Mick first discovered it years ago, when he was just a kid, running around with no cares or worries at all.
It became a sanctuary, of sorts. Somewhere to hide away when it all became too much; the responsibilities and the expectations. A place that was just his, where he could just be himself.
Now, it's where Esteban finds him. He's not sure how long it's been since he rushed away, how long he's been sitting here, staring at the water, but it's gotten darker around him, and the air is colder.
Esteban's got a horse with him, though he's on foot by now. It's Sophie, Mick realizes. So he's been by the farm. He wonders who he spoke to, who told him to take a horse. Best case scenario, it was Kevin. Worst case, it was his mother.
They don't speak as Esteban ties the horse to a tree. The silence stretches as he walks over to where Mick is sitting by the edge of the water and carefully sinks down next to him.
"Your mother is worried about you."
That answers that question, then. Mick dreads thinking about what she'll say, about him leaving like that, about Esteban coming to look for him.
About Esteban finding him.
He picks up a stone from next to him, runs his thumb over the flat edge of it and then flicks it out across the lake. He watches as it skips on the surface once, twice, three times, before it sinks. He doesn't say anything.
"I take it you know," Esteban says, voice cautious.
Mick swallows. "Yes," he mutters. "Kevin told me."
There's a sigh from Esteban. "I suppose he will have heard it from Romain."
Mick hums, noncommittally. "Suppose so," he says. Truthfully, he couldn't care less about how Kevin knew about it. He's more concerned with the fact that Esteban hadn't told him himself, immediately.
"Mick, I am so sorry. You should not have found out like this," Estaban says, like he has somehow read Mick's mind. "It should have come from me."
Mick can feel eyes on him, but he refuses to look back just yet. He's not sure he'll be able to keep back the tears once he does.
There's space between them; more than there normally would be. Part of Mick itches to reach out, to inch closer. Tangle their fingers together and resting his head against Esteban's shoulder.
"Who?" he asks, instead.
He's got his suspicions. Has gone over an endless list of possibilities, almost gone out of his mind trying to think of what Esteban's parents would be looking for.
Because he's sure of that much; there is no way Esteban has chosen this.
He wouldn't, Mick thinks.
Hopes.
Clings to.
Esteban doesn't reply right away. He breathes, eyes leaving Mick's face and trailing out across the water.
Mick waits.
"Pierre," he says, eventually, and the name falls heavy into the silence.
Mick's eyes fall shut, and he brings a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He's not surprised, really. Part of him knew, as soon as Kevin told him. But it still hurts, the confirmation.
"But you hate each other," he says, as if it matters.
He knows it doesn't.
"I know," Estabans says, with a wry, sad smile. "But I have to. For my family, this is- it's the only way I can help."
"What about me?" Mick asks, unable to hold it in. His voice shakes, and there are tears forming in the corners of his eyes. "Why can't it-" he takes a deep breath, and turns to look at Esteban. "Why can't it be me?"
Esteban's eyes are big, and sad. He doesn’t say anything, but then he doesn’t really need to.
It's silly to ask, anyway, when you already know the answer. Mick's family has money, sure, and a solid name, but that's not the only thing that matters. There are connections, influences, social standings. Mick knows he was never an option, not really.
Moving his body closer, and shifting so that he’s turned towards Mick, Esteban reaches out a hand. His fingers are warm against Mick’s skin when they cradle his cheek. Mick’s eyes fall shut and he leans into the touch. A few tears fall down and are caught in the crease of Esteban’s hand.
“You know,” Esteban says, voice desperate and pleading, thumb tracing across Mick’s cheek. He leans forward, connecting their foreheads together. “If I had any say-”
Mick nods against him, and he trails off. Of course Mick knows. He knows it as well as he knows himself. He also knows there’s nothing to be done now, that wouldn’t ruin both of their family’s names and reputations.
Part of him wants to forget about all that, say to hell with it, and run away. Make a new life, for him and for Esteban, away from it all, just the two of them. They could get a house, maybe a couple of horses, a dog for him and a cat for Esteban. It could be wonderful. It could be everything he’s ever wanted.
But he can’t. Not now, not with the farm, and his mother and sister who need him here, with them. And not with Esteban’s family, who he knows means so much to him, who he would never abandon.
He blinks his eyes open, pulls away slightly so that he can look at Esteban. Esteban’s hand falls from his face and finds Mick’s hand instead, interlocking their fingers. There are tears on his cheeks, too. Mick doesn’t think he’s ever seen him cry before.
“How long?” he asks. He’s not sure what he’s really asking; how long have you known? How long until the wedding? How long do we have?
Esteban sniffles, takes a deep breath. “The wedding is in a month,” he says. “But there is so much to do before then, I’m- Mick, I wish I could-”
Mick nods and squeezes their hands together. He knows.
“Will you stay?” he asks, voice small. “Just- for now. Stay here with me, okay? One last time.”
The air around them keeps getting colder, and their clothes are getting damp from the ground where they’re sitting. This isn’t a place of comfort; not now, not at this time of the day, or this time of the year. But still, Esteban nods his head quickly, without even taking a second to consider it.
“Of course,” he says. He brings their hands up to his mouth, and places a kiss on Mick’s knuckles. “Of course I will stay.”
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