"Mikey... Mikey... Wake up..."

Mikey shuts his eyes tight, and presses the palms of his hands to his face, refusing to acknowledge whoever is there. He doesn't want to wake up, he doesn't want to get up. He doesn't want to, he can't.

"Mikey, it's Pete, please wake up. I can't stay long."

Mikey finally parts his eyelids at that, the cold, gray wall coming into view. Pete brushes Mikey's hair out of his face, but Mikey pushes him away, whining, "Don't..."

He feels weak, his eyelids close again, his energy his fading, and he feels so... so weak. He barely hears Pete echo, "Stay with me, Mikey." Mikey doesn't respond.

***

He wakes up again, what he assumes is much later. Pete is gone, Mikey is alone again. He isn't sure if he's relieved or distressed, but he rises to sit, rubbing his head. He has a massive headache coming on, and notices the vomit on the floor from earlier is gone.  He swallows. He wants water, he's parched.

Mikey slowly rises to his feet, but everything aches and he falls back down, gasping in pain. Blood sits in a puddle on the floor beside the wall. Mikey cringes, and pulls himself away, squinting. The light is too bright and he wonders if maybe he feels so dizzy from the blood loss. When he looks toward the door, he notices a sandwich there, and an orange and a bottle of water. He immediately crawls forward, in too much pain to rise to his feet and grabs the sandwich biting down into it. His mouth is watering, the thought of food making his stomach ache even more. He eats the meal, quickly, but not too fast. And then he lays back and stares at the ceiling. His heart hurts, his torso hurts, his head hurts. He's tired of being in pain.

***

The next time anyone visits is enough time for another meal to pass through his lips. He's stuck, staring at the wall, knees to his chest and nose sniffly from how cold his room has gotten.

It isn't Patrick or Gabe or Will to pass through the doors as Mikey would have guessed. It's Pete. Again. Mikey pulls himself away when their eyes meet, and hugs his arms to his chest. Pete shuts the door and walks toward Mikey. He immediately flinches away, but Pete keeps a distance, sitting about five feet away.

"Hi."

Mikey doesn't reply, just buries his head in his arms. Pete swallows, and says again, "I'm sorry. I didn't... I didn't want that to happen to you. I didn't realize Patrick would..."

"Why didn't you stop him?" Mikey whispers, barely audible.

"I couldn't, he'd know. He'd put me in the same position you are. I couldn't do that. I wish i could, fuck I wish I could."

Mikey doesn't reply again.

"I'm sorry."

"You held me down. You could have at least said you could do it. You held me down and watched them force themselves onto me. I was /screaming/ Pete. Did that mean nothing to you?"

"I'm sorry," Pete tries.

"Fuck. Off." Mikey snarls, "go away."

Pete stands, which surprises Mikey. He expected him to try harder. But has also pleased he's pretending to care. Pete drops a couple painkiller on the floor and turns away.

"I'm sorry." He repeats. Mikey doesn't want his fucking sympathy.