Early the next morning, Michael was yanked out of bed.

"Hey!" he cried, startling awake and blindly lashing out. Two doctors restrained him and carried him to the door. "Bastards! Let me go!"

The commotion woke up Micky, who bolted upright in bed, groaning at the pain it caused him. "Michael?!"

"Micky!" Michael grasped at the doorframe as the doctors tried to carry him out of the room. He felt ridiculous, but it was two against one and he couldn't break free.

"Let him go!" Micky cried. He attempted to scramble out of bed, but was quickly stopped by his therapist.

"We cannot let your homosexual feelings get in the way of our sessions, Micky," the therapist said. "I have reason to believe this man is the reason why you won't talk to me and you are forbidden from seeing him unless we make some real progress."

"You can't force it out of him!" Michael shouted. "You'll only hurt him mo—"

"Okay," Micky whispered, "I'll talk."