It wasn't like Harvey had cheated on him. Harvey would never do that. Not after his mom… with his dad. Harvey had always reassured him that the one thing he would never do is cheat. He had made a point to engrave that in Mike's brain.
It was no secret that their relationship had been suffering. The didn't fight in public but the honeymoon phase had gone way too quickly. The were both consumed with work, neither of them taking the time to take the other on dates. Instead they opted to stay indoors, Mike would usually take over the living room and work on cases with the tv on in the background and Harvey would be working in the guest room converted office with the door closed and a vinyl playing. They would work in silence until someone got hungry and either dialed for take out or started whipping up dinner.
Most often than not, it was Mike. Mike had been trying to cook more for Harvey. He wasn't the best cook but he could hold his own. He had hoped that eating dinner across from each other would be a start in rekindling what they once had. He had wanted to fall back into the easy banter and obscure movie references they shared, but that had not been the case. Most of the time, they would only make small talk and nothing about it was easy, it had felt awkward and forced. Mike wondered what happened to cause the shift, if he had done something wrong. If Harvey was okay but the older man wasn't very open about the inner workings of his mind. Mike had ended up chalking it up to a stressful case.
In hindsight, Mike should have confronted him about it but he never did, and boy did he regret that now.
Mike remembered the day that he finally learned what had been going through Harvey's mind. He wasn't sure how long Harvey had been sitting with this thought. But it had to have been a while, or at least Mike hoped.
Mike had come home late, he had been finishing up the files that Louis had thrown on his desk earlier in the morning. Harvey was sitting at the dining table, still in his work clothes, looking more exhausted than Mike had ever seen him. The sight of Harvey, so vulnerable and worn out, made Mike's heart ache. Harvey was in the middle of pouring scotch when he looked up at Mike. Their eyes met for the first time in a long time, both boys just explored the others eyes in silence.
Harvey broke the silence, "Mike, this isn't working."
Mike swallowed; he knew that they were drifting apart, but something about hearing Harvey confirm what he had been thinking was awful. Mike stood there in stunned silence, the words "it's not working out" echoing in his mind. Harvey's voice had been so firm, yet there was an underlying sadness that Mike couldn't ignore. His heart ached, and he felt tears welling up in his eyes. He wanted to scream, to ask why, but all he could do was stand there, feeling the weight of their relationship crumbling around him.
Harvey continued, "I think we should try an open marriage."
Mike felt a punch to the gut. He sat there, stunned, trying to process what he had just heard. The idea made him feel like he wasn't enough for Harvey, amplifying his existing feelings of insecurity and sadness.
Mike took a deep breath and looked into Harvey's eyes, he saw the desperation and sadness there. Despite his own reservations, Mike's love for Harvey pushed him to consider the idea.
"Okay," Mike said softly, his voice trembling with emotion. "If this is what you think will make you happy and help us, then I'll try."
Mike swallowed, giving Harvey a sad smile, thinking to himself, I'll do whatever it takes to make this work for us.
Harvey's eyes widened in surprise, then softened with gratitude. He just smiled and gave Mike a soft kiss, his touch conveying all the emotions words couldn't express.
Mike felt tears welling up in his eyes as he nodded, a mix of fear and hope swirling inside him. He hoped that this decision would bring them closer, even though it scared him. All he wanted was for Harvey to be happy, and he was willing to do whatever it took to see that happen.
For the next several days their marriage didn't change. Harvey never went out, he never brought anyone home, he would go to work and come home to work some more. Mike still continued his usual routine which included cooking dinner for both of them. It wasn't helping them get closer but it had brought him comfort in knowing that Harvey needed him for something.
They would sleep in the same bed, but it felt like miles apart. Mike would try to stay close to the edge of his side, but his starfish tendencies would take over, causing him to drift closer and closer to Harvey. The first few nights, Mike had been gently pushed away by Harvey every time he accidentally got too close. Each push felt like a dagger to his heart, a silent reminder of the growing drift between them.
Mike would lie awake afterwards, staring at the ceiling, tears silently streaming down his face as he wondered if Harvey was awake, feeling the same pain, or if it was just a subconscious reaction. The loneliness was suffocating, but despite the pain, Mike clung desperately to the small comforts of their daily routine, hoping against hope that things would eventually improve.
The days turned into weeks, and the silence between them became more deafening. Mike noticed the little things Harvey used to do for him had stopped altogether. No more morning coffee waiting for him on the kitchen counter, no more random texts during the day to check in or share a quick joke. It was as if Harvey had built an invisible wall between them, and Mike felt powerless to tear it down.
Mike found solace in small, solitary moments—like the quiet hum of the dishwasher late at night or the soft glow of the streetlights filtering through the curtains. He would sit by the window, hugging his knees to his chest, and watch the world go by, wishing he could turn back time to when things were simpler, when love felt easy and unbreakable. The ache inside him grew with each passing day, but he held on to the faint hope that maybe, just maybe, Harvey would come back to him.