This chapter was...unexpected. I sat down a few hours ago with a vague idea of what I wanted to write and just now looked up from my laptop more than 6,000 words later, which is by far the most I've ever written in one sitting. I guess this one just wanted to come out! Hope you'll all enjoy it :D
This is dedicated to my dear friend Phoenix on cloud nine, to whom I owe some fluff to tomorrow and who requested some Mike-looking-through-old-stuff-in-the-closet-and-b eing-sad. Hope this helps with everything, dear. Also I think I've now officially dedicated the past three chapters to you, and I don't know what that says about our friendship exactly hahaha
This one is also dedicated to anyone who's starting school now- namely, college, and especially college for the first time :D good luck, everybody! Also I'm leaving to go back to school tomorrow, so...just don't get your hopes up about any sudden updates, because it might be awhile, sorry :P
Also, one more thing- I don't know anything about Harvard or Harvard housing, so just play along with this. I'm just using it to give Harvey grief XD
Mike's age: 18
And if someone must take my place
For I'll be gone the longest time
I'll wait and I will understand
A heart of thorns must leave the mind
-From "This Is Not the End" by Clare Maguire
Mike wasn't ready to go yet.
But he somehow found himself packing up the last of his clothes into one of the cardboard moving boxes that Harvey had placed in his room last week, smiling grimly at Mike as he'd stacked them one by one next to Mike's desk. He couldn't believe how weird the office-turned-bedroom looked at the moment—he'd moved some of the full boxes into the hallway to have more room in his room to pack what was left, and now all that remained was the bed, looking cold and impersonal without the brightly colored afghan that Grammy had knitted him, and his empty desk and dresser.
The afghan was tucked into a bag somewhere amongst the boxes of his clothes, books and other personal items, and now all that was left to go through and pack were a few boxes filled with knickknacks in his closet. He figured he'd probably leave most of what was in them behind—he didn't think he'd need his winter boots til he came home for Thanksgiving, and he didn't even know why he was hanging on to some of the other random stuff in there—old school notes and tests, some trophies from his much-hated time playing Little League as a kid, and a couple of notebooks filled with his childish sketches and some of the stories he'd made up when he was younger—that could all stay here while he was gone.
But there was one box in particular that he still needed to look through before he left. He heaved a sigh and wiped his brow as he closed the last box of his clothes and slid it out into the hallway. The August air was unbearably hot and muggy—Mike had the window open to get a breeze rolling in, but the air current was so hot that he thought any wind was probably just making his room even hotter.
Stepping into the cool darkness of his now-empty closet was sweet relief—he dropped to sit down by the box he wanted and instantly felt it drop ten degrees.
He took a deep breath as he sat for a moment to cool off before he began what was sure to be a painful task. This was the first quiet moment he'd had to himself for the past few days, and he wasn't quite sure that he wanted to take the time to think about everything that was happening, but at the same time he knew he needed to process some of what was going on so that he could mentally prepare himself for the move he was about to make in two days.
He was finally going to Harvard.
He'd leisurely finished up with all of his undergrad work back in May, and Harvard had been practically salivating when they'd gotten his transcript and records—Mike was pretty sure he could have skipped writing all the entrance essays and not taken the LSAT, and Harvard still would have wanted him for law school. It was incredible; a complete dream come true, and it was what he'd wanted his whole life.
It was just…now that he was eighteen and the moment had actually arrived for him to pack up and leave New York…well, he wasn't sure if he was ready to go. He was incredibly excited at the adventure that awaited him and at the chance to study at the top law school in the nation—for the first time in his life, he might actually have classes that tested his mind and challenged his brain, and he couldn't wait for that aspect of what was to come.
It helped too that Rachel and Harold would both be starting at Harvard this fall too—granted, they were doing their undergrad work while he was already starting grad school, but at least they'd be on the same campus and he'd have some friends his own age. That was all he really needed—he hoped to make friends with his classmates at law school, of course, but he had no illusions that it was going to be one big happy family. Harvey had told him all about how competitive and cutthroat law school could be, and he imagined that Harvard law school would be particularly brutal. He knew that it would be especially rough for him since he was only 18 and all his classmates would be at least 22 or 23. But he felt much better knowing that Rachel and Harold would only be a 5-minute walk away from him in the freshman dorms.
He had wanted to live with them in the undergraduate dorms, but the law school had said that all their graduate students had to live off campus. So he and Harvey had driven down to Harvard a few weekends ago and found Mike a little one-person studio apartment relatively close to the law campus' library.
It had been a tense day of decision-making for the two of them—Harvey wasn't comfortable with the idea of Mike living alone in the first place, and the building Mike had chosen in the end was…less than savory, in his opinion. He'd wanted Mike to move into the Uppity Trust-Fund Baby Student Apartment Complex a few miles away (it wasn't actually called that—really it was something like the Pleasant Hills Student Housing: Where Every Student Finds a Home, but Mike had stubbornly dubbed it the UTFBSAC after he and Harvey had toured an apartment there), and Mike had refused within five minutes of stepping foot on the premises. It was too…uppity, and Mike didn't want to live in a place that was nicer than most 4 star hotels—he shuddered to imagine the kind of students who lived in a place like that. Sure, maybe some of them would be nice, but that wasn't his crowd or living style.
He much preferred the simple, utilitarian apartment complex that they'd gone to after Pleasant Hills, and it was the one he'd decided on in the end. In an ironic reversal of the Pleasant Hills situation, it was Harvey who had refused to let Mike live there within 2 minutes of stepping foot on the grounds of the apartment complex this time (probably because the cheesy sign that was trying too hard to be cool said 'Student Apartmentz'—Harvey hated when things were spelled with unnecessary 'z's'). They'd gone to get lunch after touring the 'Apartmentz', and Harvey had spent the whole time attempting to be subtle but completely failing as he'd aggressively talked up the Pleasant Hill complex, remarking on the beautiful view and location, and fake-coughing a lot and suggesting that maybe the Apartmentz had mold that would make Mike sick.
But Mike had snuck away from the diner they ate at to sign the lease at the Apartmentz while Harvey chatted with a former law school classmate that he'd run into who was now a professor at Harvard, and it had been too late by the time Harvey was done talking. Mike had returned shortly thereafter, jubilantly clutching the signed housing contract for his new apartment unit.
They'd shouted about it for a few minutes, until Harvey had reluctantly caved when Mike had turned on the puppy dog eyes and pointed out that he was the one living there and not Harvey. He'd proudly showed Harvey around the studio apartment they'd shown him after he'd signed (there wasn't much to see, besides the tiny closet and tinier bathroom), and then he'd dragged Harvey over to the landlord, Hank, who was a 50-year-old man who looked like he hadn't showered for about a week and told them that he was jealous of Mike's newfound independence because he himself still lived in his parents' basement. Despite his dubious nature, he was blithely cheerful, and seemed completely impervious to the disapproving looks that Harvey was shooting him the whole time they'd interacted, so Mike decided he liked the guy.
Harvey had grumbled while signing the co-pay agreement, but he'd gotten a look at the housing contract and was slightly mollified by the fact that "if he didn't like the look of it in a few months when Mike was actually living there, he'd be able to use his legal skills to crack it wide open and get Mike out of the contract and tucked away safely at Pleasant Hills faster than you could say 'dying of a gas leak'." There had been much eye-rolling by Mike then, but he'd been grateful that Harvey had ultimately respected his decision and let him live where he felt most comfortable. He'd had to drag Harvey away from Hank, though, because Harvey had started ranting about how he was going to call a friend of his and get the apartment building condemned if even one thing went awry with Mike's living situation.
Mike was grateful that Harvey was concerned for his safety, and he knew that he was lucky to have a guardian who would be able to afford for him to live in Pleasant Hills. But the thing was, Mike had never really felt comfortable in the extravagant lifestyle that Harvey was seemingly born to lead—Harvey had tried to buy him a brand new car last year, for example, and Mike had firmly rejected it. He was fine riding his bike, and if he did get a car, he'd didn't want it to be all new and shiny. While everything about Harvey was classy and bigger-than-life, Mike still preferred things that were old and broken in and had character. Like his new apartment, for one—so what if the kitchenette faucet only worked half the time? And who needed air conditioning anyway, right? And why would somebody ever need more than a square foot of closet space?
Harvey had looked absolutely incredulous every time he'd looked over to see Mike smiling fondly at his suspiciously dirty and stained apartment walls. He didn't want to offend his father by blatantly rejecting Harvey's apartment of choice, but the vibe at Pleasant Hills just wasn't him. And not to mention, it was way out of his price range—he knew that Harvey would happily pay his entire rent fee out of his own pocket, but Mike wanted to be as independent as possible. He knew he'd barely be able to make ends meet to afford the rent at the 'Student Apartmentz', but he'd been saving up for years and was determined to try to do it himself. It helped that he was on a full academic scholarship, but there was still food and books and clothes to buy.
He also knew that Harvey tried to understand this mindset but had a hard time with it—to him, it didn't make sense that Mike didn't want his financial help. Harvey certainly had plenty of money, and it would barely make a dent at all to pay for Mike's basic living expenses. But Mike had grown up poor as a kid, and to him it felt unnatural to accept someone's help like that, even coming from his adoptive father. He just needed to try to do this on his own, and then if he really needed help he'd gratefully let Harvey jump in and save the day. He'd tried to explain this many times on apartment-hunting day—a 'thank you for the offer to buy me every single thing that your money could possibly buy, but no thank you if it's all the same to you' type of deal—but it hadn't seemed to sink in until the next day, when Donna and Harvey had had a long talk that Donna hadn't allowed Mike to listen to. Fortunately Donna seemed to have understood and gotten through to him, because Harvey hadn't said anything too disparaging about Mike's new apartment since then, though he'd looked sorely tempted several times.
Donna had been even more amazing than ever throughout this whole moving-to-college process. It was she who'd taken him shopping last week for stuff for his apartment, and it had been both efficient and surprisingly fun taking on IKEA and the mall with her. She'd helped him pick out curtains and towels and kitchenware and some basic furniture, and she'd successfully distracted the sales associate at the mattress store so that Mike could jump from mattress to mattress like a little kid without being seen or kicked out of the store, effectively allowing him to fulfill a longtime life goal of his.
She'd also helped him pick out some new clothes, proudly remarking that he 'was just as tall as his father now!' It had been kind of what he thought going shopping for college with his mother would have been like if she'd still been alive. When he'd shyly said as much, blushing and looking away, she'd gone a bit teary and pulled him into a fierce embrace in the middle of the busy check-out line at the department store.
"I'm going to miss you," she'd murmured quietly in his ear. "But you'll do us all proud at Harvard."
They'd broken apart then, and Mike had taken a second to hastily swipe at his eyes while Donna was turned around boldly shutting down all the people who had yelled at them to stop holding up the line. She then paid for Mike's clothes, and it had looked suspiciously like she used her own credit card instead of the card of Harvey's that they'd been using all day.
When Mike had said as much as they were leaving the store, Donna just smiled mysteriously and said that when girls at college complimented him on his style, she wanted them all to know that she was the one who'd picked out his clothes and bought them, and not Harvey Specter.
Mike had tried to protest, but Donna was having none of it. Finally he'd given up as they climbed into her car, and switched to thanking her profusely for giving up her day off to take him shopping.
"Oh, honey," she'd said, fastening her seatbelt and then reached over to pat him on the arm. "It was my pleasure. But you should know that this isn't usually my day off. Harvey gave me the time off to take you shopping because he couldn't bring himself to do it himself. He claimed it's because he hates shopping, but I think it's really because the idea of it makes him too sad. It makes it too real that you're actually leaving, you know? I'm sure he's going to be an absolute nightmare for weeks after you leave."
It had been a rather silent drive home after Donna had dropped that bombshell. To be honest, Mike hadn't really given much thought to Harvey's feelings on the matter up to that point. He supposed it was kind of selfish, but he'd just been busy trying to get an apartment and registering for classes and buying all his supplies and now he needed to pack it all and he'd been so busy worrying about his own feelings about the transition into law school that…well, it had just slipped his mind. He'd been so focused on how hard this was going to be for him—leaving his home behind, moving to a brand new place and starting over…that he hadn't really given much thought to the idea that Harvey was probably sad too.
It made sense—he hadn't been looking for the signs, but they were all there. Harvey had been working late a lot the past few weeks, as he generally did when something was bothering him. He was suddenly more prone to patting Mike on the head or slinging an arm around his shoulders, as though Mike might just disintegrate into thin air if he didn't physically make sure he was still there every once in awhile. And he got a weird, pinched look on his face sometimes when he looked at all the moving boxes scattered around the apartment nowadays. At first Mike had just thought that Harvey was irritated by the tripping hazard they presented (Harvey could claim to be supremely graceful and agile all he wanted, but Mike had seen him trip on Mike's shoes that he always accidentally left on the floor on an almost daily basis for the past four years and he had the video to prove it), but now he got that Harvey was just…sad.
It was a weird thought, and it made him feel a strange mix of things— sadness that he was making Harvey sad, but also warmth that Harvey obviously cared so much about Mike's presence in their home. But, as Donna had said in the car, talking about it made it too real, and he felt a little choked up every time he almost said something to Harvey about it, so he'd just pushed it to the back of his mind and focused all his attention on packing and getting his life in order.
But now…sitting in his quiet, dark closet all alone, it seemed inescapable. He was leaving in two days. In two nights he'd be sleeping in a different bed, surrounded by different walls, hundreds of miles away from his home and his family. It was hard to imagine, but he tried. He tried to imagine what it'd be like to not be able to come home at any point in time he felt like it, to not be able to have face-to-face conversations with Harvey when he needed advice, or get a hug from Donna after a hard day of class.
It was one of those things where he didn't think it'd really sink in until something like that happened; when he'd had a rough day and just wanted to go home to the apartment and mindlessly watch TV and banter with Harvey on the couch and he couldn't do it because he was at Harvard 3 hours away.
For the past four years, he'd considered this bedroom his bedroom, this apartment his home. And now things were going to change. Sure, the apartment would always be his home…but he would be spending a majority of the year in that studio apartment at the Apartmentz complex conceivably for the next three years of law school (the dean was pretty sure he'd be able to graduate early, but Mike didn't want to count on it and jinx himself).
And he didn't know if he was ready for that.
Everything here was safe and familiar and easy. It hadn't always been that way, of course—he'd worked hard to get to where he was today. And now he had to give all of that up after just four years. It seemed a little unfair—Rachel and Harold were chomping at the bit to move out and start living away from their parents and be independent. The idea excited Mike too, but he'd had fourteen years less with Harvey than Rachel and Harold had had with their parents. Of course, he'd had eleven great years with his own parents. But a small, selfish part of him was jealous and angry that he'd missed out on so much, and another small part of him just wanted to stay here where everything was safe and easy and make up for that lost time.
But he knew that the outside world would keep right on moving even if he hid in this closet for the next three years, and that if he wanted to fulfill his dreams he'd have to get up and move right along with it. It would be hard, but he'd done harder things in his life. He was a former orphan—he could be very strong when he needed to be.
But for now…he reached out with slightly trembling fingers and slowly ripped the tape off of the last box that he needed to look through. The most important box.
Once it was open, he took a deep breath and reached inside to begin pulling things out. The only light in the closet was the dim light filtering in from his bedroom window, and the sun was setting so it wasn't very bright out. Still, he didn't need light to know what items his fingers were brushing against in the box—each and every single item was imprinted somewhere on his heart, and he knew them all by feel at this point in his life.
First there were papers—his birth certificate, his parents' death certificates, their last will and testament, and some of the random birthday cards or notes to him that they'd written that he'd guarded fiercely since their deaths, afraid of forgetting what his mom's signature had looked like or how his dad had always had a hard time deciding how to write the number 2 and had switched between two different methods. The next layer of papers was more recent—report cards from high school, his acceptance letter to the NYU undergrad program, and the acceptance letter to Harvard that he'd tucked in here a few months back in May.
Then he removed a folder filled with more papers, a small grin tugging at his mouth—these were his adoption papers, and they were well-worn from being taken out and looked at and then put back. There had been a period of few months after his adoption when he'd been plagued by random nightmares of his time at the Jensens and Harvey wanting to give him back to Child Services, and many a night when he didn't want to disturb Harvey's sleep he'd comforted himself by sitting in the closet and pulling them out to reassure himself that yes; Harvey wanted him, there was his signature. It had always instantly made him feel better—seeing Harvey's strong, certain handwriting on the papers always made him feel a bit silly for having doubted it in the first place.
He hadn't felt a need to look at them to reassure himself in over two years now.
They could stay here; he didn't need them anymore. He put the adoption folder aside to be put back in the box again later, along with the legal papers regarding his parents. He'd probably take a card or a note from each one of them to school to go along with the framed picture of them that he always kept on his bedside table at the apartment and would put on the bedside table at the Apartmentz his first night there.
The next things in the box were harder to bear—his parents' weddings rings, his dad's well-loved Mets cap, and his mom's sketchbook. A slight lump grew in his throat as it always did when he thought about his parents for too long. Fortunately as the years went by, he was beginning to find a deep sense of peace when dwelling on their memories instead of the anguishing sadness that had once threatened to swallow him whole, but he still ached for all that he'd missed with them over the past seven years.
They would never know how tall he'd grown to be, or see how his formerly bright blond hair had faded into a sandier color with the years. They would never know that he'd gotten into Harvard Law four years early; would never get to meet the people who had become his family after their deaths. They wouldn't be there to kiss him goodbye and wish him good luck on his first year away from home, and would never send him care packages or forward him dumb chain emails to cheer him up while he was away.
And he had Harvey to do all that now, but it didn't stop a few tears from overflowing as he carefully drew out the last three items in the box, the three most precious things he owned—a crumpled up post-it with Harvey's handwriting from Father's Day four years ago, a broken action figure of his dad's, and the baby blanket that his mom had made him.
And suddenly he was full-out crying as he buried his face in the baby blanket, desperately trying to remember how his mom had smelled and not quite coming up with the right scent. It was terrifying; knowing that the memory of his parents was slowly slipping away from him. His memory had always been extraordinary, and it was true that he could remember word-for-word everything he'd ever seen them write and many things they'd said to him, but even his memory couldn't replicate a smell that he hadn't smelled for seven years, or exactly recall the pitch and timbre of his father's laughter. It wasn't that it was gone completely, it was just…blurred now, lacking its once razor-sharp clarity. Had Mom had freckles on her nose? What angle had Dad thrown his head back at when he did that full-bellied laugh he sometimes did?
And that was part of the reason why he didn't feel ready to go to Harvard. He didn't want to leave Harvey behind. He'd lost a lot already, and he just wanted to stay by Harvey where it was secure and safe and he didn't have to get up every morning and face the world alone.
He was suddenly very grateful that Harvey had gone to the grocery store, because he was making embarrassing choking noises into the baby blanket as the full impact of how his life was going to change in two days hit him.
He was going to have to be an adult. He could do it; he knew he could. It was just…change was hard. And he'd really miss Harvey, damnit. So he allowed himself a few minutes to freak out in the privacy and relative darkness of his closet, clutching artifacts from the three most important people in his life—the two who'd given him life and nurtured him in his early years, and the man who'd taken him in when he was lost and turned him into the person he was today. Maybe he'd feel better if he just cried it out. And it wasn't like there was anyone around to hear him—Donna was coming with to help him move in, so he didn't have to worry about her stopping by to say goodbye, and he was going to see Grammy and Henry Morris tomorrow afternoon.
But apparently Harvey wasn't as gone at the grocery store as Mike had thought he was, because he heard footsteps coming down the hallway and his bedroom door swinging open.
"Mike, I got us a pizza—the kind with the cheese in the cru—Mike?"
Harvey's tone took on a puzzled, questioning inflection as he entered the room and realized that Mike was nowhere in sight. Meanwhile, Mike was panicking slightly in the closet, wondering if he should just keep hiding and risk being found out, or come out and try to think of a reasonable explanation for why he was huddled in his closet crying.
He was saved from making the decision when Harvey swung the closet door all the way open, frowning quizzically at Mike. "What are you—oh." He said as he noticed the tear tracks on Mike's cheeks.
"Uh," Mike said, quickly drying his eyes on his sleeve. "Hi, Harvey," he said, attempting to sound casual despite his voice sounding weird and choked. "I was just, um," he tried to continue, but his gaze fell on the items scattered around his lap and he felt tears press at his eyelids again. He stood up to give himself something to do. Hating how shaky and teary his voice was, he nonetheless gathered up his courage to speak. "I don't know if I'm ready for this, Dad," he confessed in a whisper, two traitorous tears spilling over again.
Harvey wordlessly opened his arms, and Mike surged forward into the proffered embrace, burying his face in Harvey's shoulder.
"I don't know if I'm ready for it either, kid," Harvey said, and they stood in Mike's empty room, surrounded by full boxes and both suffering from what Harvey would later claim was 'just some dust from the closet getting in our eyes.' "But we'll take it a day at a time, and before you know it, it'll be fall break and you'll be home again. Law school flies by, and you'll be so busy you won't even have time to miss home. You'll have a great time, Mike. Trust me—law school was made for people like you."
"I'll still miss you though," Mike said, ignoring Harvey's Disapproving Eyebrow Quirk at the way that he wiped his teary eyes and snotty nose on his sleeve.
"I'll miss you too. It'll be awfully quiet around here. But now that you've got one of those expensive, newfangled iPhones we can TimeFace or whatever it is—"
"It's called FaceTime, Dad," Mike said in exasperation, rolling his eyes.
"Same thing," Harvey said. "Come on, how about some pizza? There's no use being sad now, we might as well make the best of your last two days home."
"Okay," Mike said, feeling oddly buoyed.
"But I'm just warning you," Harvey said, his tone serious, "if I ever hear you pronounce the word 'apartments' with a 'z' sound instead of an 's', you aren't allowed back in this apartment for Thanksgiving."
"Dad, nobody even talks like that," Mike groaned. "That's just Hank trying to be young and hip and failing. I don't think you have anything to worry about."
Harvey didn't look convinced but let it go. "So I know we're going to see your grandparents tomorrow afternoon," he said as they headed to the kitchen to eat. "But is there anyone else you need to say goodbye to before you and Donna and I leave the next morning?"
Mike thought about it for a quick second—he'd see Rachel and Harold at Harvard, so he didn't need to worry about talking to them. Trevor had been in town for a few weeks this summer, but he was already long gone at school himself. He was playing football at a D2 school in the Midwest, and had been there since early August for practices and training.
He was about to say that he didn't need to say goodbye to anyone else, when he suddenly thought back to the things in that box in his closet.
"Yes, actually," he said as reached for his first slice of pizza. "Yes, there's still two people I need to say goodbye to before I leave."
The grass of the cemetery was an unappealing yellowish color from the drought they'd been having that summer, and it made weird swishing noises as their small party waded through it.
"They should be right over here," Grammy said, leading the way down a row that was shaded by a large oak tree. Mike liked the tree—it seemed almost like it was watching over the people that rested peacefully below it; guarding them from the worst of the elements and protecting the words written about them on the gravestones from fading. "Aha! Yes—James and Nina are right here."
Mike automatically stepped forward upon hearing his parents' names, while Harvey and Henry Morris respectfully stepped backwards to give the two of them some privacy.
Mike went to stand next to his grandmother, feeling chills run down his spine in spite of the August heat as he looked at the two headstones that bore his parents's names and the dates of their lives. He had never come here before—it was slightly outside the city in a peaceful little grove next to the church where his parents had been married, and he'd never had any reason to come out this way until now.
But it didn't feel right to leave New York City without visiting them and getting a little bit of closure.
He and Grammy stood in companionable silence for a minute, listening to the bluebirds chirping in the bushes nearby. He liked this place—his dad would have enjoyed lying in the tall grasses and looking at the clouds, and his mom would have loved sketching the wildflowers growing all around them. He was glad that they were buried here.
"They would have been very proud of you," Grammy said after awhile.
"That's what everyone's been telling me," Mike commented. He paused, not sure if he wanted to ask the question that was on his mind. "Grammy—do you…do you think they would have minded? About Harvey, I mean. That he adopted me and that I call him 'Dad' and stuff."
"Oh, Michael, honey," Grammy said. "Of course they wouldn't have minded. I'm sure they would be thrilled to see that you've found someone to fill in the hole they left behind. I know it's hard because they died so suddenly and you didn't have a chance to talk to them or say goodbye, but I assure you, they would never begrudge you seeking out a new parental figure."
Mike nodded and looked silently back at the curling script that spelled out his mom's middle name.
"You know," Grammy said conversationally. "I don't know if you would remember this, but your dad had a health scare when you were about five. He went in for a regular check-up, and there was something off about his white blood cell counts when they did a blood test. Well, the doctor told your father that it was possible that he had leukemia, and recommended that he get all these other tests done.
"James was terrified—he had a young family and his wife only worked part time. If something were to happen to him, how would they carry on? He came over in the morning before he went to get the rest of the tests done, and made me promise that I'd look after you to the best of my abilities if something ever happened to him or Nina. It was put in writing in their will, of course, but he wanted to be sure. And then he said that if for some reason I couldn't do it, he wanted me to make sure you wound up with a good family who would love just as much as they did."
Mike glanced over at Harvey out of the corner of his eye—his adoptive father was chatting with Henry Morris, but he glanced up when he felt Mike's eyes on him and flashed a reassuring smile in Mike's direction.
"Of course, as you know, the tests all came back negative and your father was fine. But I'll never forget the promise that I made to him, and I've done my best to fulfill it. You're lucky to have Harvey, but I think he's lucky to have you too, sweetie," Grammy said, turning to him. "Now come here and give your grandmother a hug, and I'll leave you to have a minute alone with your parents."
So Mike accepted the embrace and yet another comment of 'I can't believe how tall you've gotten!' and watched his grandmother make her way back over to Henry Morris and Harvey.
He turned back to his parents' graves and cleared his throat, suddenly slightly nervous.
"Hi, Mom and Dad. It's me. Mike. Sorry I haven't come by before. A lot has happened since you guys died. I still miss you a lot," he said, and to his great surprise, it wasn't nearly as painful as he'd thought it would be to talk to them like this. "But I'm doing okay. I think you'd be proud of me—I'm finally going to Harvard. I'm a little nervous, but I'm excited too. Harvey says that's how it should be.
"Oh, wait, I forgot you guys don't know about Harvey. He's the guy who adopted me. He's great—you'd think he's handsome, Mom. And Dad, you and him would have a great time fighting about the Mets and the Yankees. He's helped me through a lot of stuff—taught me how to shave and how to drive and how to be a man. Dad, I hope you don't mind that I call him 'Dad' most of the time. I just—he was there when I needed him, and he's done a ton of stuff that he never had to do, just because he cares about me.
"Don't get me wrong, he drives me crazy too—I've lived with him for four years and he has yet to cook a meal without burning something. And he's too protective sometimes, but sometimes I don't really mind it. I guess…I'm going to miss him a lot when I leave. But I'm glad I came to talk to you guys because I feel better now—kind of like when I used to call home when I was homesick at a sleepover. I'll come back in a few months, okay? Love you guys."
He lightly trailed his fingers over their names and wiped his eyes before stepping away then and rejoining their little group a few rows over.
"I'd like a moment to say something too, Mike," Harvey said. Mike shrugged and nodded in approval and watched from afar as Harvey went over and spoke briefly to the two headstones. He had no clue what his adoptive father was saying to his birth parents, but Harvey had a quiet smile on his face when he walked away, so Mike supposed it was okay.
He himself felt much better and much less worried about going to school now too, and a surprisingly light mood settled over the group considering that they were in a cemetery.
"I brought some whiskey for a toast," Harvey said, suddenly producing a classy-looking bottle of alcohol and some shot glasses out of nowhere. The four of them assembled around James and Nina's graves, and Harvey poured six shots while Henry nodded approvingly at the name Macallan on the label of the bottle. Mike didn't know what that meant exactly, but he guessed it meant 'expensive.'
"Who's going to drink my parents' shots?" Mike asked.
"Not you," Harvey said. "You get one. And just this once for this special occasion; don't think I'm encouraging your underaged drinking. I'll have one, and maybe Henry will want the other one."
"Excuse me, Harvey Specter," Grammy said with false indignation. "Are you implying that I can't handle two shots of Macallan? I'll have one and you'll have the other."
Mike and Harvey made eye contact and quickly looked away before either of them laughed. Harvey nodded in conciliation, holding his hands up as if to ask for forgiveness.
"Mike," he said. "Would you like to make the toast?"
"Yeah," Mike said, taking a deep breath and holding his shot glass up. "To the people who are family because they've always been there through everything and will still be there at the end. And to and the people who are family because they choose to be. And to James and Nina."
The all toasted to James and Nina and drank, and Mike's horrified face at the strong taste of the liquor made everyone else laugh. Harvey and Grammy picked up the two extra shots.
"To Mike—may he have a great adventure at Harvard and continue to make us proud with the young man that he's turned out to be!" Grammy toasted proudly, and she and Harvey drank.
"Yeah, if he manages to not get the Black Lung from all the mold in the walls of his apartment," Harvey muttered as he gathered up all the empty glasses.
"Yes, Michael said that you had a very strong opinion on the state of his apartment," Henry said, his lips twitching slightly as he and Mike and Grammy exchanged knowing glances.
"It should be condemned!" Harvey insisted as they exited the cemetery and headed back to the car. "There's probably asbestos all over the place."
"Well, there might be asbestos," Mike piped up cheekily. "But I hear they're doing asbestos they can to get rid of it."
Harvey gave Mike an exasperated look.
Mike laughed and nudged Harvey's arm. "You get it? Like 'asbestos' like 'they're doing as best as they can to get rid of it'! See, it's funny; Grammy's laughing."
Mike let out a yelp as Harvey pulled him into a playful headlock and mercilessly messed up his hair. When Harvey released him, he slung a loose arm around Mike's shoulders.
"You ready for your adventure tomorrow?" He asked.
"Yeah, I think I am," Mike said, smiling at the family surrounding him and realizing that he really meant it now.
He might have actually been ready all along.
So that's that- I know it was a little heavy at parts, but hopefully there was enough fluff to balance it out. Drop me a line and let me know what you thought if you've got a moment :D I was just trying to think about when I went off to college for the first time two years ago, but it was WAAAY less fluffy and emotional than this...I was the 6th child in my family to go to college, so my parents were just kind of like 'k peace bye see you in a few months', but I think we all know that Mike and Harvey are too attached at the hip to just wave goodbye and have that be that :D anyway, 'til next time!
