"Hey, Mike." Peter smiled as he stepped into the room, trying to be as quiet as possible.
"Hi." His voice was low and hoarse, barely above a whisper, but it was still distinctly his. It made Peter's heart swell with joy. He turned on the light, and Mike flinched, shielding his eyes with a hand.
"Oh, sorry. Is it too bright?"
"'S okay," Mike whispered, still hiding his eyes. Peter flipped the lights back off and sighed.
"Is that a little better?"
Mike nodded and put his hand back down. Peter, relieved, sat beside him with a sad smile, sitting his bag down beside him.
"Sorry about that." He said softly, looking down. Mike turned his head to face him.
"Don't worry, it's just a light." He smiled weakly, but it went away fast. Peter's faded just as quickly.
"Um, do you feel any better?"
"Little." He shrugged.
Peter nodded, not really sure of what to say. He suddenly forgot everything when he heard Mike whimper in pain as he held his forehead.
"Mike, are you okay?" Peter tried not to get too loud, but Mike still winced at the noise.
"Yeah," he mumbled, still holding his head, "just hurts."
Peter frowned.
"Your head still hurts?" He asked, softly, now concerned. Mike groaned in agreement. The pain seemed to go away after about a minute. Mike's arms came down and he relaxed into the bed, struggling to keep his eyes open.
Peter sighed and watched his friend, unsure of what to do. He glanced down at his feet, noticing his backpack leaning against the chair. A memory suddenly hit him as he set the bag on his lap.
"Hey, I-uh I have something for you, Mike." He beamed. Mike turned his head to face Peter, who was now digging through its pockets. Eventually, he pulled out a green wool hat that had been faded and worn with age. Mike began laughing silently at the sight of it, grinning as Peter pulled the hat over his head.
"There." He smiled, sitting back down. "It's been really chilly in here. And now you won't get cold."
"Thank you, good buddy." He whispered, his voice trailing off slightly at the end. His eyes closed, and once again, Mike seemed to force them open.
"Hey, Mike?"
"Hmm?"
"If you want to sleep, I can go. I wouldn't mind." He smiled. "And I'll be back. If your body is telling you to sleep, you shouldn't fight it. You've been through a lot and you deserve the rest. And I can go and come back later for you. Or Micky or Davy could come later. Mike?"
Peter looked over to see that the Texan was already out. He let out a silent laugh and smiled again.
"Good night, Mike." He whispered, crouching down slightly to be at eye-level with him. "I hope you sleep well. I'll be back soon. Sweet dreams. Bye, Mike."