Michael awoke with a jolt.

Micky was slowly coming out of his coma. Michael saw him and gasped.

"Micky!" Michael jumped to his feet and hurried to the bed. He wanted to hug him so badly, but, not wanting to hurt him, he settled for running his fingers through Micky's hair instead, "oh, thank God you're awake."

"Michael?" Micky whispered, unable to speak at any higher volume. He attempted to lift his hand, but it fell limp by his side, "what happened?"

"Shhh," Michael closed his eyes, tears rolling down his face as he kissed Micky's cheeks, "don't worry about that now."

How could he ever dream of leaving him?

"Mike, what—"

Michael's heart broke for the trauma he knew Micky was about to go through. But he didn't let any of that show as he grabbed Micky's hand and squeezed it. He knew he'd have to summon a doctor in a few minutes, but he wanted these moments to spend with Micky and Micky alone.

"I'm not goin' anywhere, okay? I promise you that. I...I—"

His breath caught in his throat.

No, not here.

Somewhere more special. 

"You what, Mike?"

Michael peered down at Micky, who gazed up at him with blank, confused eyes. Michael gently caressed his cheek before leaving his hand to rest by Micky's ear.

"I'm just glad you're finally awake."