Micky screamed and jolted awake. The other side of his bed was empty.

"M-Michael!"

He could hear the pounding of footsteps, then Michael came running through the door, hat in his hands.

"I'm," huff, "sorry!" he exclaimed breathlessly. Micky didn't question him. He only cried and held his arms open like a child. Michael's breathing slowed as he put his hat on and joined Micky on the bed, enveloping him in his strong arms.

"I w-wanted it to be a n-nightmare." Micky hid his face in the crook of Michael's neck.

"I know," Michael murmured, lowering an arm to wrap around Micky's waist, "I did too."

"W-Why me, Mike? F-First Samantha, now...now..."

Michael wasn't one with words and didn't know what to say. He could only hold Micky close and bury his face in his soft curls. A month ago, they'd been strangers. Now Michael was the only one there to soothe Micky through the unthinkable.

"M-Maybe I should just—"

"Just what?" Michael asked sharply.

"I-I—" Micky looked down. "N-Nothing."

Micky didn't have to say anything. Michael knew what he was implying.

"Don't do that. Anythin'...Anythin' but that. God, Mick, do you know what kinda hell that would put me through? I can't...I can't..."

"Can't what?" Micky asked in a voice barely above a whisper.

"I can't lose you too."