A/N: Written to Dream a Little Dream of Me by the Mamas and Papas
Trigger warning for suicide. Mike's really not in a good spot, but he's denying it.
Mike walked across the packed dirt. Stars. It was night and that was all he could see in front of him. The headlights turned off behind him and it was all dark. The breeze blew a cool scent of forest from behind him. Pine-y and bracing.
He had closed the car door far enough from the road, but further still from his destination, so his walk was rather long. They would find the car. He had told them where he was going.
It was peaceful and quiet and windy out here. As he got closer to the crest of the hill, he could see more and more of the sky in front of him. It opened up to him, kindly, embracing his thoughts, all of his consciousness. He appreciated the unconditional acceptance.
His boots continued to scuff the dirt. The letter was in the car. They would find it and read it, as they were meant to, without the extra expense of a postage stamp. It would explain everything that had happened, that they hadn't been able to hear and see, and everything that would happen, so it wouldn't cause any undue stress.
It was the best solution. They wouldn't ask for it, but they didn't know the whole story, and once they read it, they would agree. It would have been messier if he'd stayed. Now it would be simple and no one could argue.
He came to the highest point and looked out over the vista. He could hardly see a road in the distance, and certainly no houses. He was alone out here.
The landscape's outline dimly shone from the reflected starlight. It all dropped away from this cliff he was standing on the edge of, stretching out to include more forest, a distant river etching its way into the earth. All that could be heard was the wind in the trees and rustling of animals, and the stars were magnificent. That huge, enveloping sky called him to reflect on it.
It made his heart, still heavy, prompt him to sit out here on the ledge of the cliff and let his legs dangle for a minute longer. No rush now.
The deep blackness all around him seeped through his skin and merged with the melancholy within. He imagined the melding caused the blue inside him to leak out and begin to ever so slightly tinge the horizon with the first hint of the approaching sun as the Earth turned toward it.
Finally, he thought his last thoughts to the people he had to leave behind. He had felt a little selfish including it in the letter, so he hadn't. But he sent his wish out now, and felt that someone would hear it—the important people, the ones who wanted to hear. Miss me.
He didn't wait on that ledge longer than a minute. He was ready. It was better for everyone.
Do miss me.