"MIKE!" Micky yelled as he pounded on the door. It was locked when they arrived, causing him to panic.

"Mike, are you in there?" Peter called out, knocking lightly.

"Mike, open the door, goddammit!" Micky cried. Eventually, they heard footsteps and the door lock click. The front door opened slightly and Mike stared at them, bewildered. Peter pushed through the crack and pulled him into a hug. Mike jumped up at the touch. After he eased into it, he didn't return it. Instead, he just stared at Peter.

"Hi...Peter..." he said, the confusion very clear in his voice. He turned up and looked at Micky as he stepped in.

"Are you two alright?" He asked as he pulled away from the hug.

"Are we alright?" Micky asked, slowly approaching him. "Are you?"

"Yeah...?" Mike raised his eyebrows. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Peter and Micky shared a look.

"I-I left, Mike," Micky said. He didn't know if he should be worried about Mike or not. "I was gone. I went on a walk."

"Okay?" Mike couldn't help but let out a laugh at that. It seemed a little ridiculous to him.

"I don't understand," Peter frowned, shaking his head slightly.

"What don't you?" Mike asked, plopping down on the couch.

"Mike, I left," Micky sighed, looking down and feeling ashamed. "I...didn't want to come back, Mike. If I didn't run into Peter, I don't think I would've. I'm sorry, Mike. But I didn't want to come back here."

Peter looked at Micky with an unreadable expression. He, himself, had had similar thoughts. They all had. None of them wanted to have to stay and take care of Mike, but none of them were ready to leave him either. Mike frowned and thought about it.

"Then why did you?" He asked finally.

Micky took a step back.

"I couldn't leave...you were alone and I didn't want you to freak out because I wasn't there...but you didn't."

Micky sat down on the couch and looked at Mike curiously.

"You didn't get upset that I had left you."

"Oh," Mike said quietly. "I guess I just didn't notice you were gone."

Micky and Peter were too confused to be offended by the statement. Mike shrugged and went into the kitchen.

"You didn't?" Micky frowned. "Why not?"

"Why not what?" Mike's voice called out. Micky sighed, trying not to get annoyed. It wasn't Mike's fault, after all.

"You usually freak out when we're not here."

"Do I?"

"Yeah, you do," Peter added, a little worried.

"Oh," Mike said with a shrug, opening cabinets. "I'm thinking of making breakfast, what do y'all want?"

"Mike, it's almost 5pm."

"Oh," Mike frowned, thinking about it. "Well, it's too early for dinner so...lunch?"

"Too late for lunch, Mike," Peter took a few steps toward him. "Have you eaten yet today?"

Mike froze, trying to think.

"I don't know," he finally said, giving up on trying to remember.

"Well, you really should eat, Mike," Micky sighed, going toward the refrigerator. "Mostly just have leftovers and stuff."

"Leftovers?" Mike frowned, sitting down.

"Yeah," Micky turned around and saw Mike rubbing his temples and a wave of worry came over him. "There's pizza, vegetable soup Peter made, meatloaf, and Chinese noodles. Does any of that sound good?"

"Any of what?" Mike turned to look at him. Micky let out another sigh and pulled out the pizza, trying a new tactic.

"I'm heating up some pizza, Mike. Do you want some?"

Mike shrugged and Micky sighed, taking his silence as a yes. As he heated up the food, a thought came into his head. He frowned and looked back at Mike. He couldn't remember the last time Mike had had a decent meal, despite their tries.

"Are you okay?" Mike asked after a moment, looking at Micky.

"Fine," he said, giving a hesitant nod. Mike frowned, not believing him, but shrugged it off. He looked down, thinking and humming a tune to himself. Micky looked at Peter, who shrugged.

"I guess he's fine," Peter said with his eyes and Micky let out a relieved sigh. Maybe things might be fine after all?

Mike stopped suddenly and Peter rushed to his side.

"What is it?" He whispered, putting his hand on his shoulder. Mike stared off into the distance and didn't respond.

"Mike!" Micky said, setting the plates down on the counter and standing in front of him. He waved his hands in front of Mike's face. Mike blinked and frowned.

"Huh?" He asked and both let out a relieved sigh.

"We lost you for a second," Peter said with a smile. Mike frowned the look of confusion back on his face. But he didn't say anything.

Micky sighed and placed a plate in front of Mike.

"What's this?" He asked, looking down at it.

"It's pizza, Mike."

"For breakfast?" Micky couldn't tell if Mike was excited or appalled by the idea of pizza for breakfast.

"Sure, why not," He smiled and sat down with his own plate, still a little worried about him. Mike stared down at the slice intensely before eventually shrugging whatever thoughts he had off and taking a small bite.

"You okay?" Peter asked in a whisper.

"Yeah," Mike said, taking another bite. "Why?"

Peter looked at Micky, hoping for answers. Micky looked at Mike, then back at him, giving a slight shrug as his answer.

"Well...okay, then," Peter sighed standing up and walking to the couch. Mike frowned and followed him.

"Are you okay, Peter?"

"Fine," he said with his back turned to him. He didn't want Mike to see him start to cry.

"Do you need anything from me?" He asked softly, placing his hand on his shoulder.

"No," Peter smiled. "Thank you."

Mike nodded and headed back into the kitchen. He began perusing through the cabinets again.

"Mike, what're you doing?" Micky frowned, taking a bite from his slice.

"I'm about to start breakfast," he said as if it was obvious. "What do you want?"

"Pizza," Peter smiled, wiping his eyes. Mike's eyes widened in amusement.

"Pizza for breakfast?" He turned around to face Peter as he giggled and nodded.

"I don't know if we have the ingredients for pizza, Peter," Mike said with a slight smirk, Peter's happiness was contagious.

"I've got it!" Micky jumped up and put his hands over Mike's eyes.

"MICKY!"

"Wait for it!" Micky laughed as he led Mike to the kitchen counter.

"Ta-da!" He said proudly as he took his hands off Mike's face, revealing the pizza already on the counter. "You don't need to cook."

Mike frowned and looked down at it. He didn't say a word but he rubbed his forehead and stared at it in disbelief.

"Are you okay?" Micky asked, worried. He didn't want to stress Mike out, especially over something like pizza. Mike looked at him and gave a shaky nod.

"Okay," Micky whispered, wrapping his arm around him for support. "I can get it heated up, don't worry. Just rest."

He walked Mike back to the couch and helped him lay down. Mike groaned in pain as he rubbed his forehead.

"You're okay, Mike," Micky smiled slightly as he sat down on the floor beside the couch.

"I'm sorry..." Mike whispered eyes squeezed shut from the migraine.

"For what?" Micky asked, worried.

"Sorry..." Mike repeated, stiffening up and eventually becoming entirely still.

"Me too," Micky sighed and stood, throwing a blanket over him and going back into the kitchen.