Finally, Mikey sits down. His fingers tangle nervously together, tactile in some sort of distorted rhythm. He can't stand to look at Donnie, too much truth staring back at him, but he can't seem to look away for too long, instead he keeps him in the corner of his eye.
He doesn't want to answer.
"15. I'm 15. Almost 16..." he says, shaking his head.
no subject
Finally, Mikey sits down. His fingers tangle nervously together, tactile in some sort of distorted rhythm. He can't stand to look at Donnie, too much truth staring back at him, but he can't seem to look away for too long, instead he keeps him in the corner of his eye.
He doesn't want to answer.
"15. I'm 15. Almost 16..." he says, shaking his head.