Mable: This is a sort of bad ending prompt for "Can't Go Home Again" or "Almost Feels Like Home".

Begin Prompt in 3, 2, 1…

High-Strung

He couldn't handle it. This was his breaking point. The end of his rope. This was where Mike Schmidt hit the point of no return.

He couldn't imagine coming back from this one, as painfully ironic as that was. He had been restrained to bed for two days now, only getting up so that Marionette could clean the stained bedding, keeping the comforter tightly wrapped around him as he sat on the floor at the foot of the bed. Just waiting so he could get back into it.

Marionette had been wonderful through all of this. He was always comforting Mike, wiping away the tears that almost constantly seemed to leak out of his eyes. He spent long nights singing to him and days telling him about how the pizzeria was going.

Mike wasn't sure if he was going to make it back to the pizzeria at this rate. Just thinking about it made him twist his face into the pillows and lay there until he got stuck to the fabric.

Fritz and Jeremy had come by plenty. Both were going through their own issues with this whole thing. Jeremy was handling it a little better, making his sympathy much more known and expressing his feelings in a healthy way.

Fritz, on the other hand, pretended like nothing was wrong and went business as usual until earlier today. He had come in to give his typical recount of what happened at the pizzeria when he just, seemingly spontaneously, broke down into tears sitting on the side of the bed.

Mike had been somewhat sympathetic and assured him before gently offering, "Alright, you're going to have to get out of here. You're upstaging me at my own pity party." Fritz had smiled a little and pulled himself together.

Fritz still felt so guilty, but Mike didn't blame him. He blamed himself. He had let this happen and he had to live with the consequences.

But right now was the worst of it. It was the first time he had a panic attack since the incident, and it was so much worse than any of the ones before it. Instead of nausea, he just couldn't escape it couldn't manage to ground himself and instead tried to keep his eyes closed and to not touch anything that would remind him.

Then, in the midst of it, Marionette wrapped his arms around him from behind and held him tight. Normally Mike handled these attacks better if he just road through it, but in this case, there was no ending in sight until he had the familiar comfort of Marionette's touch.

It still took a long time before the panic attack waned and the room grew quiet once more. By then he felt twitchy and exhausted. He grumbled and turned off of the pillow, the cotton peeling off of his cheek like a piece of tape. Marionette chimed lightly and nuzzled against his neck.

Then, for the first time in days, Mike realized that he didn't want to be in this bed anymore. He braced himself, trying to consider if he wanted to risk the panic that might come, and finally made his decision.

"Mari." Marionette raised his head and Mike gave a hollow sigh. "...I want to go out and watch TV."

"Really?" Marionette sounded both excited and a touch nervous. "O-Of course! Come on, I'll help you."

Mike was just as lethargic as Marionette sprung over him and hovered beside the bed. He gently helped him out, keeping an arm behind his back while the other held his wrist.

Mike's legs were weak, so he had to lean on Marionette as they made their way out of the bedroom. He didn't dare look down, instead choosing to look out the window at the dim night waiting outside.

He couldn't tell what time it was but guessed it was probably 1:17AM on the dot. He checked the grandfather clock as he passed and realized he had been right. Huh.

Marionette lowered Mike onto the couch and quickly turned the television on. He offered up the remote, which Mike declined, and then began to start looking through the channels himself. He seemed so happy, probably because he was seeing the progress that Mike couldn't.

At least it didn't hurt... Until he was thrashing in bed with a panic attack and ended up smashing the lamp or something, Mike thought with a half-scoff. It sounded normal, though it didn't feel normal.

Eventually Marionette put it on a comedy movie they had seen before and curled up to Mike's side, gently wrapping his arms around him and holding him tight. Silently saying with the motion that it was going to be okay. Mike believed him and hugged him back.

This was rewarded with a soft chime. It took Mike a second to realize that it hadn't come from Marionette's music box, but from his own.

Maybe he could handle it.

But it's not that bad of an ending, really? Eventually, everyone adjusts to their new bodies. Especially the puppets.