*Short chapter, hope you still enjoy it. If you're able, I'd love to hear what you guys think of the story so far. Peace and love.*

As hard as it was, Peter liked seeing Mike. He liked going in and feeling Mike's comforting presence, something he had been missing during those long days in the pad.

He was lead to the room and knocked on the the door before entering, despite the fact that Mike couldn't hear it.

"Good morning, Michael." He smiled as he stepped in, making his way to the bed.

"I-uh, brought you these." Peter revealed a bouquet of flowers that he had been hiding behind his back.

"I know you can't see them but they're bluebonnets. I picked them out. They're the state flower of Texas." His dimples shone for a minute before he began to look around.

"Do you have a vase?"

He walked around the room, searching, but was unable to find anything to put the flowers in.

"Well, I'll just set them here for a little while," he placed them on the nightstand and sat down, "we could get a vase for those later."

There was a moment of silence where Peter fiddled with his hands, trying to look anywhere but at Mike.

"I got a job, Mike. Me and Micky both did. We didn't want to play music, it didn't feel right without you. So we got other jobs."

His foot began kicking back and forth, a nervous tic. He looked back up at his friend and continued. He smiled a little, but it quickly went away.

"Micky's at work now. That's why he's not here. He's, uh, a..." he couldn't remember the word. "He works with cars. Like fixing up oils and engines and stuff. He got it easy. He's good with his hands."

There was a pause where Peter held his head low in shame.

"I didn't get my job so easy, Mike. I tried everywhere that was hiring but...they didn't like me much. It reminded me of that toy store. It was so humiliating and I told Micky, I told him that I could never get a job because nobody wanted me. I wish you were there, Mike. But Micky ended up getting me a job, putting in a good word for me and such. And my boss, he's a groovy guy and he pays and he tells me that I'm doing a good job but I don't feel good though."

He didn't like the idea that he was bombarding Mike with his troubles, but he knew that it would hurt more if he repressed his feelings any more.

"I got this job at a grocery store. All I have to do there is stand outside and say 'good morning' to people as they walk in. I hand out flyers and stuff when there's deals or discounts or something going on but most of the time, they won't take them. Most of the time, they just walk on past me like I don't exist. I asked someone about it and they told me not to think about it much. But that's what I did, I always do something wrong. I like having a job, I do, but it all just makes me feel so...worthless. The one job that hired me I can't even do. Like all I'm good at is being nice and talking to people, that's my one and only skill, and they still walk away. I can't even do that right. Never could..."

His voice trailed off, close to becoming too choked to continue. He glanced back at Mike, longingly. He really wanted a Mike Nesmith pep talk right now but he couldn't get one. He sighed.

"I guess it's not all bad. I'm supporting the guys with money and sometimes the people aren't that bad. Sometimes they're nice. Sometimes they smile or say thank you or even ask how I'm doing. But..."

He didn't want to continue. Instead he changed the subject, hands now beginning to tremble.

"I'm really worried about Davy. Micky said that he just needed some alone time but I can't help but feel like there's more. It's like we lost him too when you got hurt. He won't go out or anything. Most days we barely see him and when we do, he won't talk. And I don't know what to do to help him. And I wish you could be here because you always know how to help. I only make things worse..." He cut himself off, slumping in his seat.

"I just don't know what to do. I'm scared and I really hope you get better so that things can go back to normal. I miss normal."

Peter kept his head low. He was waiting for something. Waiting for Mike's reassuring words, waiting for him to say things will be fine. That he'll talk to Davy and make things better like he always did. He lifted his head up, hopeful. Nothing