Epilogue

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Micky didn't want to admit it, but he was frightened of going to visit Mike. He had no idea what to expect, no idea how his friend was even holding up. They each wrote letters, even giving Mike's address to the neighbors so they could write to him as well. And in two months, they wrote what was probably a good combination of over 50 letters to him. So far, Mike hadn't replied to any of them.

Peter had gone a few times, trying to go over there at least once every few days to say hello. Davy had gone over there three times in total, but each of those times lasted a good hour or so. And each time, both had told him that he had to go too. Micky wanted to go, he wanted to go and see him so badly but there had been a pain and worry for his friend every time he thought about it. He failed him. He failed Mike and now he was gone, mentally and physically.

It wasn't until Millie had asked him to deliver a letter that he decided to actually go. She had been worried that her letters weren't being sent or that she had the wrong address. Mike wasn't writing back to her either and part of that fact worried him.

He debated it with himself again and again before eventually deciding to go for it. He grabbed the letter Millie had asked to deliver for him as well as one he had written himself, grabbing his guitar case as well. He didn't know what to expect going there, but was hoping to get the chance to play music again with Mike. Like the good old days.

***

He was led up the stairs and down a few hallways before reaching Mike's room. The nurse smiled as she approached the door, knocking on it and opening it slightly.

"Mr. Nesmith?" She called out, Mike looking up at her. "You have a visitor."

She looked at Micky, who hesitantly made his way in, gripping onto his guitar case tightly as he did.

The room looked different. There were much more things in it and it seemed much more comforting, to both Micky and Mike.

"Micky," Mike said, a smile growing on his face once he noticed who was standing there.

Micky nodded and set his guitar case on the ground. In the corner of his eye, he noticed the nurse leaving, closing the door behind her.

"Hey, Mike."

He was surprised when Mike ran over, hugging him tightly.

"Hey," Micky repeated, rubbing Mike's back.

"Hi," Mike said quietly.

Micky smiled and pulled away. Mike was startled by it, but let go and looked at Micky, frowning, thinking he had done something wrong.

"It's good to see you again," Micky said with a sigh. "I hope you're okay."

Mike nodded slowly.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm good, Micky," he said with a smile. Micky smiled, feeling much better about this than he did before.

"That's good," he said, nodding. "I'm glad. I was worried but...never mind, I'm just...really glad you're okay, Mike."

Mike smiled and nodded as Micky began looking around.

"I like your room," he said, a hint of sadness in his tone.

"Thank you," Mike's smile only grew, not noticing the pain in Micky's tone.

Micky sighed and walked around. The first thing he noticed was a plant in a green pot, sitting at the windowsill. There was a ribbon tied around it with a tag that said "from Millie" as well as a full cup of water sitting beside it.

There was something beautiful about the room now. It was lived in now. It looked like a home, rather than just a room. The bedroom at the pad now seemed empty without Mike or any of his things, but this was where they went. And there was something about seeing it now that put Micky's mind more at ease. Mike would be okay here.

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