Peter and Mike had walked in on what seemed like a private conversation. They didn't even have to hear a word of it to know that it was about the two of them.

Mike let out a sigh as he took off the shoes, beating the snow off of them. Micky's eyes went wide.

"Is that snow?" He asked, amazed.

"Yeah," Peter explained, putting the coat on the coat rack. "It's snowing out there."

"It's October," Davy frowned, not even knowing it was possible for it to snow in Southern California. Peter frowned but shrugged. It was odd, for sure, but stranger things have happened and snow wasn't the most surprising thing that had happened this morning.

The other two just sat there in disbelief. Micky raced to the window.

"It's snowing!" He declared, jumping up and down in excitement. It wasn't snowing very much, but it was still something.

Davy raised an eyebrow.

"Snow?" He asked, not believing it. He had just come back from a walk of his own and it wasn't snowing then. It wasn't even all that cold then.

Mike nodded slowly.

"It started the second I stepped out," he explained. That was true. The snow had come out of practically nowhere and it was only when he went out that it snowed like crazy.

Micky let out an involuntary squeal as he ran to grab his coat, pushing past Peter and Mike to get to the door, not even bothering to put on his shoes as he rushed outside. Almost instantly, he threw himself down into the snow, laughing and yelling happily.

But it was snowing. A good six inches or so.

"SNOW!" Micky screamed as he threw himself down onto the ground.

"Micky," Davy said, now coming up from behind him.

"It's snowing, Davy!" He called out happily, sniffling.

"Are you crying?"

Micky only laughed, sniffling more.

"I'm so happy, Davy! It's SNOWING! Come on, it won't snow forever. We gotta make it count!"

Peter turned around and frowned when he saw Micky was still barefoot.

"Micky, please come inside before you freeze," he said timidly. The statement was quiet enough that Micky didn't even seem to hear it. Mike shot Peter a look, and Peter could tell exactly what he had meant. He needed to be more assertive.

"MICKY!" He yelled, suddenly frightened by the sound of how his new booming voice sounded. It had just come out, he didn't even mean to be that loud, now fearing that it was far too mean. But no one else seemed to comment on it. Micky jumped up at the sound of his name and turned around, curious as to why he was needed.

Peter turned to Mike with big worried eyes, silently asking if he did anything wrong. Mike only nodded in approval, but if anything, it only made Peter feel worse. He wasn't sure if he could be mean and feel no remorse for it…like Mike always did.

"Just…put on shoes, please," he said quietly, still mentally recovering from the fact he had just yelled at Micky. "Before you freeze your feet."

Micky pouted. He wasn't ready to leave the snow yet. Even if he went inside for a second, it might be gone by the time he came back if he left now. Reluctantly, he came inside and slipped on his shoes. Right as he was about to go back out, Peter grabbed onto his arm, causing him to turn back around.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, head hung low in shame. Micky frowned, but it was obvious he was more confused than anything else.

"For what?" He asked, now a hint of worry in his tone. Peter frowned and shrugged.

"Yelling at you, I guess…"

Micky looked at him for a moment, now much more worried about his friend than he was before. He exchanged a brief glance with Davy, silently asking if he caught the strange statement. Davy frowned and nodded, looking at Peter worriedly as well.

Peter quickly picked up on the fact that he had done something wrong and let go of Micky's arm, looking at Mike for some form of guidance. Mike only turned away and in his mind, Peter panicked, feeling helpless and alone.

Micky frowned, looking at him worriedly as he looked back out the window. It was still snowing.

"Hey Mike?"

"Hmm?" Both Mike and Peter answered. Thankfully, neither Micky or Davy seemed to even remember that Mike was even there.

"Come on," Micky said, going toward the door. "Let's take a walk, shall we?"

Peter frowned, looking back to Mike for some guidance of what to do. He was given nothing in return as he was led outside.

Peter and Micky walked out into the snow, in complete silence. It had only snowed more in the time, now it seemed almost a foot high.

Micky smiled slightly as he walked, trying not to get too excited at it again. He couldn't be excited if his friend was hurting.

"Maybe we could build a snowman or something later," he suggested and Peter smiled at the thought.

"Maybe," he said happily. "If it's still snowing later, we could."

Micky nodded and turned his head back to watch as Davy closed the door to the Pad to have a private talk with "Peter". Once he was sure the door was closed, he let out a heavy sigh.

"Okay, Mike," he said quietly. "We're alone. Anything you tell me can stay between us, I promise."

Peter frowned as Micky turned to face him.

"Is everything alright?"

He hesitated, waiting for Micky to clarify himself before foolishly answering right away.

"I'm just worried about you," he sighed. "You know?"

"No," Peter said under his breath, still desperately trying to pretend like nothing was wrong. Micky sighed.

"Robert Michael Nesmith," he muttered, shaking his head. "How long have you known me for?"

Peter frowned, trying to think. He actually had no idea how long Micky and Mike had known each other for. Obviously, it was a pretty long time, much longer than they had known Mike. But he didn't know.

"A long time," he said, choosing to play it safe.

"Almost two years, Michael," Micky said. "I've known you long enough to know that something's bothering you."

Peter sighed, keeping his head down. He couldn't bear to see Micky's worried expression.

"And I know Peter too," Micky continued. "Not very well but I can still tell that whatever it is wrong, it's involving him too."

Peter opened his mouth, almost finding himself asking what they were doing wrong, what gave it away, but caught himself before he did.

"You know you can talk to me about whatever's bothering you," Micky said, putting his hand on Peter's shoulder. "It's okay. Please, whatever's bothering you, let me help. I won't tell the other guys if you don't want me to, promise. What's going on?"

That was when Peter finally looked up, tears in his eyes. Micky frowned, not used to seeing "Mike" cry. He softened the second he saw Peter crying.

"Are you okay?" He asked in a whisper. Peter shook his head and threw his arms around Micky, pulling him into a hug. Now Micky was really worried.

"You know you can talk to me," he said, frowning. "Really, I promise. Whatever you say stays between you and me."

Peter sighed and shook his head.

"I-I-I wish I c-could…" he sniffled.

"Then why don't you?"

There were so many thoughts and feelings running through Peter's mind. He wanted to talk to Micky, tell him the truth, but he couldn't.

"I-I can't, I'm sorry…j-just not about this."