Spoilers for 5.09 (Based solely on the Promotional Photos)
Notes:
I have the weirdest feeling that 5.09 is about Rachel and Mike's engagement party. And I think that Harvey's seen something that he wishes he hadn't. It probably won't even happen which is why I'm posting this weeks and weeks ahead. Looking for Gold where there might not be. Dah Feels!
Link to Photos (Or search Spoiler TV 5.09) :
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I'm not in a happy Darvey place, and LIFE and The Arrangement require that, so getting all the angsty crap out of my head so I can focus on these two Fics. Please bare with me!
I Used To Call You My Own. 1/1
It hits him like an emotional brick wall.
Her, standing there at Mike and Rachel's engagement party,
With a date.
He supposes, in one heavy glare, that this…
This is the famous Mitchell that he's heard so much about...
The one she started seeing...after she left him.
Mitchell.
Like Madonna. No Last name. Doesn't need it...
He's blonde. And very tall. And very...uptight looking, despite the calm, welcoming expression he's giving the group.
He notices Donna's eyes flick briefly to his, before looking back at the man who's taken her arm in his with a levelled confidence.
He swallows just to keep himself from sneering and blinks to abate the need to squint right at the guy.
He was happy for her.
He meant it when he said it.
He lets the information swill about in his head for a moment, as he hears Donna's voice introduce the man to their colleagues.
Their...friends.
He watches as Rachel welcomes the guy with a warmth that niggles at him deep down in his gut.
Mike's casual joke and 'Hello'.
Louis be referred to as 'My Boss'.
That catches on his heart a little more than he expects it to.
He wonders what she's going to say about him when her voice grows towards him and into his concentration.
"And, this is...Harvey." She says gently.
He straightens then, the unusual strain of inadequacy pulling at his nerve as he paints a pleasant smirk on his handsome face. He doesn't miss the sensitivity in her voice. The way it cradles his name in a torturous fashion. Their eyes linger on one another, and he feels so completely exposed in front of her that he wonders if she can still see everything, or if she gave up caring two weeks before she started seeing this guy.
"Harvey, this is...Mitchell." She tells him.
Like it wasn't already obvious.
Or Maybe he seemed out of the room for a moment and didn't quite catch it the first three times.
He turns animated in a second. "Nice to meet you." He says, coming toe to toe with the guy. He watches the overly tall Mitchell smile effortlessly, and suddenly envies the way the man can welcome these people with such abandon.
As soon as civil manners are exchanged, Louis directs the attention back to himself to make a comment about Donna's uninvited guest.
He's suddenly thankful for the guy's self-absorbed behaviour in a way that he's never been before.
Donna doesn't look at him again, instead indulging Louis in his inane ramblings or looking to the guy.
He does however, notice Mike's eyes on him, a quiet reservation in them.
He stems the urge to roll his eyes at his friend, instead letting the glass in his hand slide to his lips to taste the kind of courage he'll need to get through the rest of tonight.
He lingers in the back of every conversation unless expressly questioned. Instead, sipping slowly on each of the four Macallans.
If this was just some gathering, he'd do one of two things:
Either,
He'd damn it all to hell and go straight home to bed, especially after the kind of day he's had.
Or,
He'd drink to get drunk and then land the most beautiful woman in the room.
Neither were an option tonight.
He dashes the importance of his own thoughts one neat Macallan at a time.
Tell me this
Does any of this love exist
Or is it just a fire
Keeping out the cold
Fear of the unknown
Turning us to coal
Oh those lips
The heavy way we used to kiss
We'd set the world alight
Live years within a night
And memories never lie
Tell me that I'm right, tell me that I'm right
I've seen it all go your way
But now you fall every day
Your tired, unfamiliar face
Says it all
I was told
Even though we all grow old
Love will never die
Love's ignorant of time
But those words were your own
And that was long ago, that was long ago
I've seen it all go your way
But now you fall every day
Your tired, unfamiliar face
Says it all
I used to call
I used to call you my own, my dear
But now you're lost
And I am drunk alone, my dear
I used to call
I used to call you my own, my dear
But now you're lost
And I am drunk alone, my dear
'My Own' By Whitaker
Halfway through the night, Harvey has grown more than tired of watching Donna and her suddenly significant other make laps around the room, and instead finds the comfort of the bar.
No one can bother him here.
There is a shelf of Alcohol. And a bar. To rest his drink on.
It's perfect.
That's the great thing about up-market bars,
The staff don't feel the need to make casual conversation with you if you tip them well.
He sighs when the stool next to him scrapes with a prominence.
He rolls his eyes until two familiar blues are staring back at him.
Any guard he has built over the past two hours begins to slide down.
Mike is the only one in his inner circle now.
And he suddenly feels, rather alienly, like the loneliest man in the world.
"Well, I never thought I'd see this. The Great and Powerful Harvey Specter: A Wallflower." Mike remarks, his voice humour-filled.
"It's your engagement party, not mine." He throws to his friend, sighing as he glances towards his glass to avoid whatever look he's bound to get in reply.
For once, Mike doesn't have a witty comeback.
He looks to his friend to find himself being thoroughly examined. His head tilts with a tiredness.
"What?" He asks defensively.
"You okay?" Mike asks in reply.
"Sure." He says, his face falling to the bar once more. "Why wouldn't I be." He remarks, the words far from a question.
"So...Donna has a boyfriend." Mike observes casually, looking about the room.
"Yep. The famous Mitchell…" Harvey remarks, tapping his glass with his index finger.
"You knew about him?" Mike asks then, his face falling into an interested frown.
"She brought it up at dinner, last week." He shrugs non-commitally.
"Right." Mike nods, taking a sip of his own Macallan. "So...if you knew, then,"
"Mike," Harvey groans, looking to his counterpart.
The possibility to be grilled for this is endless, he realises.
And right now, he just doesn't have the energy for it. "I'm happy for her." He defends.
"Really?" Mike questions, trying his best to contain a scoff.
"She...deserves to be happy, Mike." He clarifies.
"With the guy who's got a moderate stick up his ass?" Mike enquires.
He smirks then. "You noticed that, too, huh?" He offers, chuckling to himself as Mike joins him.
"Kinda hard to miss. I think I saw the last inch of it when he bent to sit down." He adds.
They join in a laugh then, some of the tension in his shoulders shaken out by the well timed joke.
"I gotta say," Mike Continues. "I never really thought about Donna's type before. I mean...she slept with you, so, that doesn't really set the bar very high." He jibes, smirking at his older friend.
"Let me guess...Rachel?" Harvey offers, glaring then until Mike gives him a firm nod of confirmation.
Between the four of them, nothing was truly sacred.
He should have known that Donna would blab...
"Gives a new level of understanding to the Can Opener, that's for sure." Mike remarks.
The Can Opener.
One of about a hundred rituals that have been shaken violently from his life.
He finds himself frowning into his drink for a moment, lost in the dull devastation and that little hole that has sat in his chest for near on two months now.
"Sorry," He hears Mike says beside him.
"What for?" Harvey frowns.
"I actually came here to cheer you up." He shrugs, a self-perpetuated disappointment clear in his voice.
"Mike...I'm fine, really," He assures, the slightest of hard quality in his voice.
He even questions the legitimacy of his own tone.
He doesn't even believe himself, so why would the smartest kid in the room fall for it?
"Alright. I can take a hint," Mike humours him, making to leave his friend, before a thought occurs. "But let me give you a little piece of advice...from a man who is lucky enough to be marrying the woman he's in love with,"
"Mike, I-" He groans, a heaviness overcoming him.
He needs a lot of things right now.
Advice...is not one of them.
"Just tell her." Mike says simply.
He has to look away for a moment, suddenly overtaken by his pushy friend's kind words.
"I did." He mumbles, half to himself yet just loud enough for Mike to catch.
Mike pauses, his face changing against the information as he slides back onto the stool and places his glass down.
"I just…" He sighs, continuing. "Screwed it up after." He admits, downing his Macallan then to sear away the moment.
He hates this honesty thing. It's bullshit. It only makes him exposed and alone and susceptible.
He turns to his best friend, mustering the only smile he has left in him, as his hand slides to Mike's shoulder, squeezing it.
"Congratulations Mike." He smirks, before heading for the door.
That night, he wakes up in his bed, sweating profusely and unable to breathe for the longest of moments.
It's ridiculous...he is suddenly terrified of being alone to the point where the feeling almost consumes him.
He dreams that Donna is getting married to a man that isn't him.
It's then that he finally figures it out.
He is in love with Donna Roberta Paulsen.
Only...he's too late to that party.