Pete's POV

I can't deal with this. The waiting, the staring blankly at walls, talking to an unresponsive body, the blurry vision. I squeeze Mikey's fingers tightly and close my eyes, drifting into a restless dream.

Dream

"Hit me again and we're not building this." I giggle and hold the pillow close to me. Mikey's hair is messy and ruffled, his tone has a hint of warning. When he turns back to continue building the wall I take the opportunity to smack him with the pillow again. He turns back to me, mad but trying hard to keep his pokers face.

"That's it! No pillow fort today." Mikey takes the pillow of me and kicks down the half built fort. I pout and tackle him to the floor, straddling his waist and pinning his writs down with my hands. "Surrender and help me build this fort or be tickled." I offer. "I dunno, tickling isn't that bad." He says. "Oh did I say tickling? I meant, surrender and help me build this pillow fort or be tickled mercilessly until the point where you can no longer build and will be on the brink of death. Your choice." Mikey gulps. "Pillows." He decides. "Wrong answer." I grin. "What do y-"

He's cut off as I attack his face and neck with millions of kisses. Our lips find each other and our fingers interlock above his head. The kiss becomes slightly more desperate and passionate on his part. I break the kiss and clinb off him. Hands held out in a helpful manner, Mikey takes them. Even though he's a lot taller than me I still pull him towards me and press our lips together.

"Pillows." I say once we break apart. Mikey grins and nods. Eventually after many tickle, verbal and physical fights the fort is done, covered in blankets and directly in front of the TV. With some popcorn and Netflix, we snuggle together, my head on his chest. Without looking up I whisper, "Don't leave me again."

"I'm not planning on it." Our fingers intertwine again. He kisses my hair and I squeeze his hand..."

I swear he squeezes back.

Mikey's POV

I can't deal with this. It's literally nothing but pain! I've tried to wake. Peter's fucking useless. He just stands there or holds me when I collapse in agony. "I can't do this!" I scream for the millionth time. "I just want it to be over!"

"You know that can't happen unless you wake up."

"I can't though, that's the point. The point is that I can't wake up because trust me, otherwise I would get the Hell out of here and get the Heaven into Pete's arms."

"That's a phrase I've never heard before." Peter muses. "Well get used to it, I'm full of them." I sigh and rub my face with my hands. "I just miss him Frank. He's supposed to be here! He's getting married for fucks sake!" This new voice echoes around us and catches me by surprise. "Gee?" "Just try taking to him babe, the doctor said people in comas can hear you." Another voice adds. "Frank! Gee! Are you there? Yes I can hear you!" I laugh. "They can't hear you." Peter tells me. My smile fades and I hang my head. "I know it's just...I wish they could. I wish I could wake up but I don't know how!"

"Hey Mikey, it's Gee. I...don't really know what to say. I miss you Mikes. I love you so fucking much and Pete does too. He's here right now but...he's not doing that well. He's gone to get coffee. We all told him to take a break. He hasn't slept, we literally have to carry him home so he gets some sleep. Mom's been freaking out a bit and Dad's been trying to calm her. Everyone misses you, Hell even Alicia visits you. Please Mikes. Please," he starts to whisper now. "Please come back. We need you." My forhead tingles and I hear chair legs scrape against the floor. "Can we go home Frank?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Ok baby." A door opens and shuts. The darkness feels more empty and more like an abyss. "Mikey..." Peter places his hand on my shoulder but I shake it away. I don't care. My body folds in on itself and I curl into a tight ball on the floor. Pete's not doing well and mom and dad are freaking out. What have I done? Oh my God!

"It's all my fault, it's all my fault, it's all my fault, it's all my fault." I repeat until I hear a voice. "I just wanna start off by saying, as I always do, it's not your fault." I look up. "Peter?"

"No."

"Who is it?"

"Listen."

"I love you Mikey. You're my pillow fort king, my Mikeyway, my best friend, my fiance, my everything. I'm so sorry I overreacted and I'm so sorry I ran away. If I had just stayed and talked to you about it instead of being a dick and trying to kill myself then we would be curled up like cats, in blankets and pillows, throwing popcorn at each other. That's our thing. Our Petekey thing. It's not your fault...it's mine."

"No! No Pete it isn't!" I shout at nothing. "It's not your fault. I shouldn't have been a dick, I shouldn't have stood in the middle of the road. It was only Alicia! Who cares if it was anyone else? I want and need you and only you. Fuck the haters!" No matter how much I scream and shout and let it all out I know it's no good. I'm no good. I'm such a mess.

My fists beat the nothingness below my feet and I can't even feel the satisfaction of my skin splitting open. My hand tingles and feels warm. I close my eyes and, like when Peter arrived, I imagine him holding my hand. I imagine him squeezing it. I imagine squeezing it back.

I need to wake up. I want to wake up. But maybe I'm not supposed to.