To say that Sully has mellowed out over the years would be an understatement, because he simply doesn't feel like the monster he used to be. He'll get a reminder sometimes, usually in the form of faded photographs in dusty glass frames, and he certainly finds a ghost of his old swagger in his tone now and again.

But he's a different monster now, gentle and patient. In contrast to his college years, he enjoys spending time with himself, like he did when he was small. Before his family hiked the pressure on him to be great.

Incredibly small.

He credits Mike.

Mike has also mellowed out over the years, but in a different way. Once a high-strung stickler for work with no time for play, Mike spends his evenings swaying between romancing Celia and finding new and creative ways to waste time. He calls it an improvement, but Sully calls him the same old Mikey, just dedicated to different crafts.

Mike will always be the same old Mikey to Sully, because there's just so much he owes him.

Their adventures have been few but great, and none of it would have been possible had he not Mike at his side. He doesn't know or want to think of where in life he'd be if it weren't for Mike's friendship.

This is why a shock strikes electric on a sunny Sunday morning in June, when Mike drops a bomb in the kitchen.

Well, not a bomb, exactly. More of a box, a small, square thing.

Sully stands at the kitchen sink, scrubbing a spoon and watching the reflected light bounce around the walls and over the curtains (green curtains, because Mike liked them best). It's a good day among many since he became Monster's Inc.'s CEO, but today is different in that it's quiet; he's relaxed.

It's a holiday, and Mike makes the most of it by heading out. Sully makes the most of it by staying in.

He's gotten a series of needed chores done; he's rewallpapered the bathroom, finally cleaned out his desk, and he moved his armchair from one end of the room to another.

Not all the chores were necessary, perhaps. They certainly beat the dishes, which stack high in and around the sink, a constant presence in their little apartment.

Sully stands washing them when Mike returns from a long day out, and after a brief hello, a little black box is placed against the water spattered counter.

Sully glances at it before turning to meet Mike's half-lidded smirk.

"Guess what?" says he.

"Do I have to guess?" Sully replies before going back to his spoon.

The next words out of Mike's mouth surprise him, but the impact isn't felt until days later, when realization kicks in.

"This mug is finally getting hitched!" Mike hops as he says it, the smile on his face simply not wide enough to show the excitement pent up in his little body.

Sully glances at the box again. Small and black, a large, diamond studded bracelet sits inside, a perfect token of engagement for someone like Celia. He puts down the spoon.

"You're going to ask her?"

"I sure am!" Mike looks overly pleased with himself; it must be the faint hit of nervousness Sully sees in his eye.

At first, he's excited, and he remains so for a couple of days.

"Mikey, congratulations!" he pulls his buddy into a half hug, hands still wet with suds.

If Mike notices, he doesn't care. He just laughs.

"I'm asking Celia over dinner tomorrow!" Mike says, "so I could really use a nice place," he gives Sully an expectant smile.

"Of course," Sully chuckles, eyeing the box again, "What'll it be; Harry Housin's?"

"Eeyek," Mike pulls the box back, opening it to admire his choice in jewelry, "Too much baggage. I was thinking something more along the lines of," he pulls another hopeful expression, "Barbarian's Barbecue? Eh?"

Sully shakes his head, grinning, "I'll have to pull a few strings, but I might snag you a table."

"Woohoo!" Mike dances around the room, in a state of joy, "I'm getting married, Sully!"

"Hold on," Sully chuckles as he wipes a towel over the spoon, watching it glitter, "You still gotta ask her. She has to say yes, you know."

Mike stops dancing as he's struck with a spoke of fear, but he shouldn't have worried. Knowing both of them, which Sully does, it isn't like Celia to say no.

And that's where the problem starts, after Celia says yes.

When Celia says yes, Mike comes home after a long night out and delivers the news with the widest smile Sully thinks he's ever seen on the little monster. He's so happy, he's caught between joy and tears; little ones that leak out over his mouth.

"I'm getting married Sully!" says Mike, dazed, "I'm getting married!"

From his chair, Sully releases a hearty laugh, more than pleased for his best friend. "It's a miracle, Mikey!"

At this point, Mike is too excited to even acknowledge the jest. "I'm going to be a husband, Sul. Soon, monsters will be calling me," he holds his hands out to frame his title, "Mr. Mike Wasowski."

Sully just shakes his head, smile fond.

Though he doesn't know it, Mike has dropped a bomb in his life, a bomb in the shape of a little black box, holding the engagement bracelet. He doesn't realize it until his next statement, which is effective in killing the joy.

"I guess it'll be a bit crowded around here for the next few years," he chuckles, flipping up his book again.

He laughs alone, Mike suddenly silent and still. Only when Sully looks up again in question does the bomb finally go off for him.

There's a look in Mike's eye, somewhat sheepish, somewhat sad. Though confused in delivery, the message is clear: Mike is getting married; Mike is moving out.

Sully closes his book.

The plan is, Mike tells him, to find a house on the outskirts of Monstropolis, with a large yard and plenty of room for love. Until then, they're going to stay in an apartment in the city, so if Sully could please help him pick one out, that would be swell.

Sully is more than happy to do so—he insists this several times to Mike and himself—but every listing he views is too expensive and, more importantly, too far away. Next door is too far away, but Sully keeps that thought to himself.

The turn of events is sudden and scary; Sully doesn't know what to make of it. He and Mike have been a pair since college; he never considered a day would come when they wouldn't be.

He tried once imagining what it'd be like if they had to separate, but then he wondered: did they have to? At that time, the event seemed unlikely, so Sully thought no more of it.

Every apartment is too far indeed, but he continues his search; nothing but the best for his best friend.

The engagement lasts several months, as does the quest to find a new place for the couple. It proves difficult; if it doesn't suit Sully's tastes, he's sure it won't suit Mike's. Sully reasons over time that Mike and Celia are better off living with him for the time being. Then they can worry about a house. Who knows, thinks Sully as he looks through pages of apartments located too far away, perhaps by that time he'll have his own place right next door.

Mike worries over the wedding, which he wants to be a big party with a bigger cake. It trumps any thought of the future—not that Sully complains. It's not that Sully doesn't want his friend to have a nice home, but he'd prefer it if that home were still with him.

He's spent so long with Mike; the idea of saying goodbye unsettles him, to a degree that he doesn't want to think about.

He's used to saying goodbye, but this is a different kind of goodbye than it was to Boo, or his mother and father. This goodbye is the end of an era. Years worth of friendship, of overcoming challenges, of moving through job after job, of late nights eating comfort foods and talking about their dreams, dreams that slowly melded together until they were one. Or so Sully thought. This goodbye is the end of Sully and Mikey, two best friends.

So Sully delays the apartment hunt, for reasons he doesn't want to admit to, not while the wedding draws near and not when Mike ends up finding an apartment anyways.

"Creeper Street?" Sully is aghast, "That's across the city!"

They're sitting in the kitchen late one night, sealing the invitations before work the next day; Mike is folding, Sully licking.

"It's a little far from work," Mike furrows his brow as the paper snags on the purple envelope, "but hey, I've no problem driving every day."

He hands Sully the envelope to seal, then says with a pointed stare, "Besides, given the listings, it was all Celia and I could afford. What happened, Sul? Didn't you find anything in our price range?"

Sully licks the envelope and takes his time folding it carefully shut. He has a whole list of apartments Mike would be able to afford, some on his own, even, but he hasn't shown it to Mike. He's still caught up on the 'Celia and I'.

"Nothing pleasant," he says simply.

A beat.

"Something bothering you, Sul?" Mike goes serious for a moment as he stops his task.

There's a long stretch of silence as Sully tries to decide what to say. Should he tell Mike that he doesn't want him to move? That wouldn't exactly be true, Sully is very supportive of Mike's plans. Should he say he doesn't want Mike to marry? That wouldn't be true, either. He likes Celia, and he likes Celia and Mike. Two of a kind, they're perfect for each other.

Still, something bothers him about the 'Celia and Mike', after so long of 'Sully and Mike.' He doesn't mind Celia and Mike, but he doesn't like the absence of his name. Call him selfish, but that bugs him, bugs him like a nail scratching away at his chest cavity. Should he tell as much to Mike? What would that accomplish?

Sully heaves a sigh that escapes from the very depths of his soul. "I'm just gonna miss you, is all," he says. He puts the finished invitation into a stack, organized alphabetically.

Mike stares at him a long time without saying anything.

As the wedding draws near, Mike starts putting things in boxes. Sully helps when he can, but being a CEO is demanding, and his evenings are often spent in his room, hunched over a desk piled high with papers. He has no time for packing.

He shouldn't, at least. Mike barges in one day and catches him rereading National Velvet instead of doing anything productive.

"Oh, Mike," he tries looking busy and tosses the book under his desk, "I was just—uh—"

"Look, you got a minute?" Mike says, expression serious as a grave, "I need something."

Sully goes, albeit sheepishly.

Mike doesn't explain the interruption, nor the thing or action that he needed. Instead he leads Sully into the kitchen, seating him at the counter.

"Wait here," he says.

"What for?" Sully replies, wondering what was cooking inside Mike's head.

"Patience, you'll see," Mike flashes him a smirk and disappears down the hall.

When he comes back, he's got a cake in his hands. It's round and melting different colors, picked up from the discount section of their local bakery. Mike sets it in front of him with a huff, sliding it over with a wide smile on his face. Though upside down, Sully can read the sloppy green lettering thrown on top:

Will you be my best man?

What follows is what might have been a smiley face, but there's hardly room left on the surface to tell. All the same, Sully's chest swells.

"I was looking at suits for you," Mike explains, a touch nervous that manifests in an awkward swing, "and I realized I forgot to ask."

"You didn't have to," Sully is trying not to cry—he's too tough for that sort of thing. "You mean it?"

"Mean it?" Mike laughs, "You're my best friend!"

The words dance through the air like sunlight bouncing off a metal spoon. Sully is elated, but there's little more he can do than just stare at the cake, a dopey smile on his face.

For a while, he forgets his cloudy thoughts as they split the dish. The words 'best friend' repeat themselves in Sully's head infinitum. Best friend, Mike had said, not a trace of deceit in his large green eye.

Best friend, he said.

Mike might be marrying Celia, but Sully is still his best friend.

The plans are easier after that day. Though Sully still has trouble helping Mike pack his things, the thought of goodbye doesn't scare him as much. After all, it's not really goodbye, not the end of some book documenting their lives. It's more like the end of a chapter, Sully reasons, and it was his choice to move on to the next one.

Sully rationalizes it in his head. It'll be hard to see Mike leave, but he'll still see him every day at work.

It'll be different, but Sully can get through it. That's what a best man would do, and more importantly, it's what a best friend would do. He's strong enough to bear the sadness weighing on his heart.

The wedding is scheduled for a nice morning in the early summer, almost a year after Mike dropped his bomb in the kitchen. They're leaving straight for the honeymoon after the ceremony, Mike says, the crazed look in his eye now permanent since stress started taking its toll, so the plan is to move into the apartment by the day before.

Celia is already there waiting, having moved a month earlier for convenience. Mike would have been there sooner, had not it taken so long to pack.

But Sully helps. He straps the boxes and furniture down with little red ropes that hook under parts of the car. Sully wanted to rent a truck, but Mike insisted that his plucky little convertible could handle the load. The result isn't the most stable contraption in the world, but it makes it to Mike's new place, just the same. The fact that Sully had one hand on the top of it while Mike gunned the motor certainly helped, as well.

"You're a sight, you know that, don't you?" Sully says as they turn down Creeper Street. Mike is so far away.

"I'd call it convenient," Mike spares him a smile in his half-terrorized state; the wedding is days away.

When they pull up in front of the complex, Mike puts the car into park. Neither of them moves as Sully stares at the door.

"You realize that yesterday was our last night together?" he says, voice sadder than he intends.

Mike is quiet for a moment, then says, voice pumped with vigor, "No it wasn't. Tonight won't be, either."

This isn't an ending, Sully reminds himself. It just feels like one.

Not that he feels it for long. The task of moving Mike into his new home is mindless, but it takes too much work to concentrate on anything else. The boxes are many, the furniture more so.

Mike's collected plenty of knick-knacks over the years, as well as posters and figurines and things. He's also kept every calendar he's ever used, marked up with important dates.

Sully catches himself looking over them in between trips to and from the car. A few dates stick out to him: the first day of classes back at Monsters University; the last day of the Scare Games; getting hired in the mail room all the way up to their first day as a scaring team.

Sully looks at the road outside and wonders where the time has gone.

At the end of the day, they're sitting in the living area of Mike's place, eating pizza and watching late-night infomercials try to sell them stuff over the television. They're wrought with the special sort of exhaustion that only comes from moving, so not much is being said.

Frankly, Sully's glad. Sometimes, good company is enough, and he intends to make the most of it.

After a while, though, Mike eventually speaks, "You comfortable over there, pal?"

Sully is sitting on the floor, having found that the rounded-out chairs with no tail-openings just weren't comfortable for someone like him. It's the last nail in the coffin, one more reminder that Mike's new home is all his and Celia's. Sully is simply a piece of a separate puzzle.

In reply, Sully shrugs, "I'm alright."

"After the honeymoon, I'll get you a chair," Mike promises, "For when you come over."

Sully turns to smile at him.

The drive home is quiet, Mike's car the only out in the maze of complexes. The sodium streetlights block the stars from view, and Sully watches them streak by, trying to memorize this last feeling.

It's silly, since Sully will see his friend the very next day, but something about tonight feels final. In a way, it is, for they'll never have their friendship the way it was ever again.

Tonight is the last of that, so Sully savors the ride and wonders if this change is as bad as it feels. Surely it can't be. It mustn't.

"Sul?" Mike says as they turn down what used to be their street.

"Hm?"

"I'm really gonna miss ya, pal," Mike laughs as he says it, the noise almost a bridge towards tears.

Sully relates. "Yeah," he sighs, "I will, too."

"Silly, right?" Mike rolls to a stop in front of Sully's apartment, "We'll still see each other every day."

"It's not silly," Sully stares at the door again, focused on the little one Mike would always use, "It's a big change," with a smile, he turns back to his friend, "Besides, you've got a wedding. You're going to be fine. Both of us are."

Sully truly believes it, if reluctantly. Like the books upon books he reads, change is a part of life; his life changed when Mike came into it, and it's changing as Mike steps back.

He's okay.

For another ten minutes, the only sound is the ticking of the engine as it cools, each monster lost in his own thoughts. Eventually Sully opens the door, deciding that someone was going to have to make the first move. It might as well be him.

"I guess I'll head to bed," he says, "You should, too. We've got a wild few days ahead of us."

"Yeah, yeah," replies Mike, sucked from the stupor he'd fallen into, "You want me to walk you in?"

"Better not," says Sully, smiling wryly, "I know where it is."

Mike chuckles.

"Thanks for driving me home."

"Of course," Mike turns over the engine, movements clumsy, "Like I'd ever make you walk that far," he looks around as he plots his route out. When he turns back to Sully, he says, a distinct shine in his eye, "And uh, thanks, by the way. For everything."

Sully smiles at him, "I'll see you tomorrow, Mikey."

Without another word, Mike goes. He pulls a U-turn, gunning the motor like he usually does, and speeds off towards his new home. As he rounds the corner, Sully sees him bring his hand up in a wave.

Sully's walls are empty. All the decorations were Mike's; what's left is merely Sully's bookshelf, empty on a few of the lower shelves. Mike is quite thoroughly gone, like the light off a spoon as the sun climbs higher into the sky, placing it in shadow. And there's not much he can do except wait around for the sunlight to come back again.

Sully can do that; he can.

That night, Sully finishes reading his book. It ends suddenly, the way that gets him every time. Further adventure is implied to happen, but the book ends before they can commence.

Sully doesn't know much of the nature of the life, but he supposes that is a part of it.

I'll see you tomorrow, Mikey.

He's never said that to Mike. Not in a long time. Sully sighs, staring at the cover of his book. Then, resigned, he slides the book back into the bookshelf, and calmly goes to bed.

Thank you for reading! Have a wonderful day!