Harvey could feel the atmosphere around him change the moment he entered through the hospital doors.
The noises from outside – the honking cars, the stamping of hundreds of people on the sidewalks, the crying of children and the cursing of business men – suddenly abated and was replaced by shouting nurses, crying family members and the ticktack the wheels of the hospital beds made when they were pushed over the ground.
The warm sunlight was replaced by the cold and clean white light of the neon lamps hanging on the ceiling. Everything was white in here – the floor, the walls, the people – and Harvey hated it. Hated how a colour that should stand for purity and innocence became associated with illness, pain and death.
Harvey didn't bother going to the reception. He already knew where he had to go. Knew it since the first time a frantic Donna had called him in the middle of a very important meeting. His feet seemed to walk the way on their own, without Harvey doing anything. Maybe it was better this way. Better that he didn't need to think about it.
Because if he could Harvey would turn around and walk out of this graveyard for living people and never look back. The nearer he came his destination, the heavier the air around him became until it felt as if he was suffocating; as if the whole world was pressing down on him. Harvey had to swallow, his lips suddenly dry and he loosened his collar. Anything to make that feeling go away.
The door looked like any other on the floor. Just another numbered nondescript brown door to press the cruel fates behind it into a schema in order to process them more efficient. It was ignoble.
Harvey pressed down the door handle and entered the room behind it. Sunlight filtered through the half-closed curtains and let everything it touched glow in a warm shine. There was no noise but for the constant beeping of the heart monitors. You could even say it was somehow…peaceful. Harvey hated it with passion.
"Harvey." He was greeted by a sickly looking figure that had lost its resemblance to the vibrant Mike Harvey had known long ago. Mike´s skin was sickly pale, his bones protruding from beneath it. His eyes were sunken in, his lips dry. The only thing that was still the same were the clear blue eyes that looked at him, sharp as always.
"Hey, rookie," Harvey greeted, swallowing hard to make the lump in his throat vanish. "How are you?"
It was a stupid question; only asked to allow the small resemblance of normality continue. A ritual which usefulness had long been expired.
"Somehow I don't fell much pain today," Mike mused. "The last days…it was difficult to even breathe, because it felt like someone set my whole body on fire. I wished I could die; it was so bad." He swallowed. "But then I remembered that I had still something to live for, so I fought on." Another moment of silence.
"Harvey," Mike repeated his name and Harvey wanted to stop time. Mike whispered his name like it was the beginning and the end, like it meant salvation, as if it was the thread he still clung to even while his body slowly destroyed itself. Harvey wanted to keep that; preserve it for all eternity so that he could keep something from Mike that was his and his alone. But the moment faded faster than Harvey could hold onto.
"What is it, Mike?" Harvey gulped.
"I think this is it," Mike murmured. "I feel so – peaceful. I haven't felt like that for a long time. Maybe it´s the respite before it finally ends? A small mercy to my broken self. I feel like I can breathe again – and it terrifies me."
"Don´t talk like that," Harvey pleaded as he felt his eyes becoming wet. Mike just smiled at him.
"We had a great run, didn't we?" Mike said dreamily. "I never thanked you for that. That you took me by your hand and never let go, even when times were difficult. Even when it looked like the whole world stood against me, I always knew that you would have my back. The years with you were the best of my life and I want to thank you for that."
"You don't have to, Mike," Harvey replied. It was back – that suffocating feeling that threatened to drown him. There was a moment of silence, then: "Harvey?"
"Yes," Harvey looked up.
"There was always something I wanted to do, but I had never the courage to go after it," Mike sounded so nervous. Harvey looked at him intensely.
"Will you…will you kiss me?" Mike asked, a note of hope in his voice.
"Yes." Harvey wanted to laugh and wanted to cry. This was never how he imagined that particular thing to happen. Not as Mike´s last wish before he died.
Harvey moved until he was right in front of Mike. He looked in those blue eyes that were still so full of love, passion and care. Slowly he started kissing Mike, deliberate at first but Mike hungrily demanded more. Mike should taste like medications, desperation and death, but for Harvey he tasted like home, like family – like love. A salty note entered their kiss. Mike was crying – and so was Harvey.
Their kiss was a beginning and it was also an end. It was full of maybes, what if-s and almosts. It was something that could have been but now never would. It was one love story folded into a few seconds. It was dates, fights, confessions, smiles – and maybe even more – all in one small gesture. It was what Mike had always wanted and what Harvey never knew he wanted until it was too late. It was their story.
When their kiss stopped and Harvey looked at Mike for a moment he saw the vibrant man that he had met all those years ago running from the cops. And he knew that he wouldn't exchange those years even for all the money in the world.
"Thank you," Harvey whispered as his heart shattered into thousand pieces.