Micky was the first one out of the room after Peter. He almost ran to his car not being able to take it anymore. 'Why is the fighting gettin to me so much?' He asked and added a frustrated sigh.
     He turned the key and the car roared to life. He didn't know where he was going but he knew he couldn't go home. Not to sit and let his mind eat him alive like it's done so many times before. He had to get out. Out of the studio, out of his house, and out of his life which had become a hole getting deeper and deeper trying to consume him.

A/n: I know it's short and I usually don't right things this short but I had a burst of inspiration and I needed to get it down and posted.