Heaven-Sent.

It's raining outside. Big, black, heavy summer rainclouds are hanging over the city, pouring out the cold raindrops; their tears and angst. Everything seems gray and dark in the lack of bright sunlight, and it's something that reflects Mikey's insides perfectly. There are no tears falling down his face, not yet, but his brown eyes are glazed over, and his facial muscles are locked in place.

He's tense and hurt, eyes red and irritated after having stared up and down a gloomy hospital corridor for hours, and his lips are red and swollen because he chews at them subconsciously. There's his mother on his right side, clutching his hand in a death grip as she cries in the arms of his father, who is also fighting back tears. Mikey has never seen them like this, so sad and devastated, so much like him. He squeezes his mother's hand and keeps staring down the corridor, looking out for the doctor who should have been back two hours ago.

He occasionally digs out his cell phone, obsessively checking if there are any new messages or any missed calls. He wants there to be something so badly, he just needs somebody to be there for him, to hold him now, but Frank is not even in the state, but somewhere up north, visiting some relatives. Being angry at Frank seems rather good, though, seeing as it's distracting him from what he feels otherwise. He hates feeling like this, feeling as if the world is ending and he's just watching. He hates feeling so helpless, so useless and stupid; so faithless.

His mom has been praying, both of his parents have been praying, and his aunt is in the hospital chapel right now. Mikey hasn't prayed. He doesn't know who to pray to, who he believes in or should believe in. He believes in angels, but they don't have all power in the world, and he doesn't know if there even is a God. He never asked; he never knew that he would one day be wondering.

"Mom, is there really a God?" he whispers softly as the first tear falls from his eyes. Mrs. Way doesn't waste a second in leaving her husband's comforting embrace to wrap her only son in one of her own. Mikey remembers his childhood where he'd be wrapped up in these familiar arms all the time, in that motherly warmth. Those hands would wipe away his tears and put on his favorite comic band-aids if he fell and scraped his knee. Mikey has never doubted for a second that he has some of the best parents a child, teenager or grownup can ask for.

"Of course there is, sweetheart. Of course there is." She rocks him firmly back and forth, his face pressed uncomfortably into her neck, but he doesn't mind. It's familiar and nice, warm, and he can smell the perfume she always wore when he was little, the one his father had given her on their wedding anniversary. She still uses it, and that makes him smile, although he's still crying. "Your grandma is gonna be fine, alright? Mama is gonna be fine." Mikey hugs back just a little tighter, trying to reassure her as she reassures him.

Then, they pull away, wiping slightly at their tear-stained faces and smiles slightly. Mikey checks his phone again, begging for there to be some kind of response, just a sign that Frank knew what was going on, that he knew that Mikey really fucking needs him. He must have forgotten to charge his phone. "He still hasn't replied?" Mikey's dad asks curiously. He's worried because he knows how close Mikey and his grandma were, and Mikey shouldn't be alone.

Mikey shakes his head. "I suppose he just misplaced his phone or something. It would be just like him." He knows that his parents like Frank; they had always loved him and were happy that he had found someone. They were even more happy when they sorted out their problems and differences and got back together after one whole year of not feeling fulfilled or completely happy. Mikey knows that they aren't impressed by Frank's absence and his failure to even answer his phone, and Mikey isn't either, but he thinks that once Frank is back, he'll forgive him.

They all look up as the doctor they've been waiting for walks towards them, a neutral, unreadable expression on his face. "Mrs. Way," he says, looking at Mikey's mom, "I'm afraid I don't have any good news."

Something cracks in Mikey's chest, and he can tell that the same thing happened to his mom, just by looking at her broken face. The doctor continues explaining what they did and what went wrong during the procedure, but Mikey zones out after the word 'deceased' comes up. His mother is squeezing his hand in a death grip, but he can't really feel it. His body is there in the sickly smelling hospital corridor, but his mind is elsewhere. He needs to get out of here.

"I have to go," he says before the doctor has even finished his rant about how Mikey's grandma's heart had stopped three times. His parents look up at him as he stands, blinking slightly in surprise and confusion, blinking away the tears. "I just wanna be alone for a while, a day or two. I'll call you, if I need anything." It takes a few seconds for either of his parents to reply, kind of as if the grief causes a delay, but then they nod in understanding, and get up to hug him tightly. They understand. They're worried, and they don't want him to be alone right now, scared that he might do something stupid, but they understand.

Mikey thinks he passes his aunt on the way to the elevator, but he can't be sure. He's not looking up, or paying attention to anything around him, he's just barely dodging things that he might collide with, hurrying towards the elevator. He manages to catch one that's empty, and he lets out a heavy breath, relieved that he won't have to share the tiny space with anyone but himself. He needs to get out, to get fresh air. He wants clean air, but not clean like in the hospital where it only smells like death and diseases anyway. It's too sterile.

He doesn't press the button for the ground floor, but the roof one. It's closer, as he is already on the 7th floor, and the roof is just a few floors up. It will be much quieter up there too, without any people around to disturb his precious peace until he arrived home.

Once the elevator stops and he steps out, there's a staircase to his left and a door to his right, with a sign of a simplistic picture of a helicopter on it. He runs up the stairs, and as he flings the door at the top of them open, he's panting hard and stumbling out into the rain. The tears are cascading down his face, much like the rain, and they mingle on his face; salty droplets mixing with sweet ones. The harsh wind tugs on him, yanking his body left and right and pulling at his clothes, but it doesn't matter.

He's alone and it's peaceful up there, nothing to disturb him or his thoughts. It's just him and the dark, dark sky that's opened up and is pouring its heart out, its tears and angst. His grandma used to always say that, whenever it rained and stormed like this, the angels were crying. Something really bad would have happened, or was about to happen, and it made the angels so upset that they could do nothing but weep their sadness out. When Mikey was a little boy, he believed that. He believed pretty much everything that adults told him, but when he reached his teens, he started questioning it all.

Religion was something that just didn't agree with the concept of Mikey's life, and so he didn't agree with it. He never told his grandma that the thought of angels existing and crying was ridiculous, that he thought that anyone who believed in such crap was stupid. He never told her that something changed his mind, that he had met an angel, that his angel never cried. He hopes that she knew, though, that she figured it out. He wonders if she's an angel now, if she has soft white wings and is flying around in heaven, trying them out. Or if she's crying.

Mikey wishes he had wings, wishes he could fly and be warm and gorgeous like Gerard. Then, he could be with Gerard, in heaven, and his grandma would be there too, and everything would be wonderful. He would miss Frank, surely, but Gerard is Gerard. He's an angel.

His clothes are soaked through and he's almost stopped crying completely when he hears the familiar voice, coming from somewhere behind him. "Mikey, you're going to get sick if you stay out here. What are you doing?" Mikey turns around, and there he is, looking the same as he had the previous years. Leg-hugging black jeans, bare torso, long black hair and enormous white wings. Golden eyes that managed to pierce the darkness and reach Mikey's dull hazels.

"My grandma died." He tears his eyes from Gerard as he speaks, taking a few steps further towards the edge of the roof, instead of staying close to the door. The rain is easing a little, not hurting so much as it whips his face, and it feels mostly enjoyable. Cold water that's just washing the bad things away. It doesn't matter that he might get sick.

"I know." Mikey jumps a little, startled by Gerard's voice that was much closer than he anticipated. The angel is right behind him, and a comforting warmth is spreading from his left shoulder and throughout the rest of his body. New tears are flooding out of his eyes and heavy sobs shake his body, causing his chest to ache, but as he leans in to Gerard's hand, it ceases, if only just a little bit.

"I miss her. She didn't deserve to die. She was the most wonderful person I have ever met." Mikey's whispers disappear into the roaring wind and heavy rain, but Gerard knows every word he's saying anyway. There are a few awkward moments where neither of them does or says anything, but then Mikey turns around, and he's wrapped up tightly in Gerard's embrace. He sobs into Gerard's warm, naked shoulder, and it's almost hard to breathe, Gerard is holding him so hard against his chest.

"I know," Gerard whispers again, face pressed against the side of Mikey's head. They stay like this for a long time as Mikey cries and clutches Gerard's waist in his arms. He breathes in slowly, trying to smell Gerard's hair, his scent, but there's nothing. The angel only smells like the rain falling down around them, on them, and it's fresh and nice, although it is disappointing.

"Take me home, please," Mikey breathes on Gerard's neck, pressing his face against the wet, but so extraordinary warm skin. Gerard takes a step back, but returns to stand close as he loosens Mikey's arms from his waist and lifts them up to wind around the angel's neck instead.

"Hold on tight," Gerard speaks as he puts his own warm arms back around Mikey, who puts his face back in Gerard's neck. Tears are still falling from his eyes, but there is an excitement in his body that he can't explain. It could be from standing so close to Gerard, or the fact that he's about to fly with the angel. Just knowing that Gerard is there again makes him feel weak at the knees, though. "Close your eyes," Gerard's mouth is just above Mikey's ear, and his heart is pounding crazily as he obeys.

He doesn't feel it when they leave the ground. He doesn't feel the wind or the cold air beat against his body. He doesn't feel the steady movement of the wings. He doesn't feel how gravity is fighting to pull him, or both of them, back down to the ground. He doesn't feel anything but the welcome heat from Gerard's body, the secure way that Gerard's arms are clasping his body and Gerard's hair tickling his cheek.

When he feels solid ground under his feet again, he opens his eyes to see his own living room, that is miraculously unharmed. He has never understood how Gerard can constantly be with him, be in his apartment, when he can barely move around without knocking something over. How he gets in, how they just got in, is the biggest question. Windows and door is out of the question.

"You can let go now." Gerard's voice brings him out of his thoughts. The angel has moved his hands from Mikey's back to his hips, pushing him slightly away from himself as he waits for Mikey to pull away. Mikey doesn't want to, though. The soothing warmth that floods from Gerard's body to his, feels too good, and he feels at home like this. "Mikey..." Gerard moves his hands up Mikey's chest, gently pushing him away, until their faces are a few inches apart and only Mikey's hands rest on Gerard's shoulders.

He leans in and presses his lips against Gerard's, and although it's short and light, he feels something. It's wet and slippery from the rain and Mikey's tears that are barely even falling anymore, and Gerard's lips are as hot to touch as they had been the previous years. But Gerard kisses back this time. For a fraction of a second, his burning lips press forward to meet Mikey's, and it's so hot it almost hurts.

Mikey backs away with a sharp intake of breath and nearly stumbles into a bookcase. There's a short moment of awkwardness as Mikey looks up at Gerard and neither knows what to say or do. Gerard's golden eyes are fiery as ever, and Mikey feels a shy blush creep onto his cheeks.

"You should get out of those wet clothes. You need to get warm and dry, or you'll get sick. You'll probably get sick anyway, but... just do it. Go have a hot bath, or just change or whatever." Gerard shrugs and runs a hand through his wet hair as he talks, unusually fast, which Mikey can't help but think is kind of cute, even if he hates that Gerard is trying to act like his mom. "I should just get going anyway."

"Why?" Mikey blurts out without even thinking to stop himself. "Why can't you just stay here, like this?" Gerard gives him a strange look. "You're always here anyway, why do you have to hide? I already know that you exist." Mikey looks at him earnestly, but Gerard only sighs deeply.

"Because I'd be in the way," he says simply. "I could," he says, but stops, thinking hard and seemingly fighting with himself. "I can stay for a little while, but... Just for a short while."

A smile lifts the corners of Mikey's lips as Gerard finishes the sentence. He nods before exiting the living room to go and change out of the wet clothes, suddenly feeling cold after being too far from Gerard's heat radiating body. He grabs a towel from a cupboard and runs it over his body to dry himself off; his hair is still dripping wet. He pulls on the sweatpants and an old t-shirt that he has dubbed his official comfy clothes, and he's smiling as he walks back out towards the living room.

When he passes the hallway mirror, he's caught by surprise, though, seeing his red rimmed eyes staring back at him. Just like every other time, everything important had just slipped from his mind when he was around Gerard. It took a mere second of seeing his red, cried out face, and it came back to him. Frank not picking up, his parents in the gloomy hospital corridor, the doctor, the roof, his grandma being dead; Gerard had made it go away.

He feels the tears burning behind his eyelids before they fall, and a painful sob breaks out as he falls to his knees right there, in the middle of the hallway. The pain is so intense he can barely hear the footsteps hurrying towards him, or the coffee mug crashing to the floor as a wing bumps it. He feels the warm arms wrap around his upper body, the hot cheek pressing against his own, the darkness that seems to appear as the wings close around both him and Gerard. "Why do you have to do this to me? You make everything else go away, including the pain, but then it comes back a thousand times worse," Mikey gasps out in between sobs. "It hurts so much."

Mikey leans back into Gerard's chest willingly as the angel's arms tighten around his chest, as if he's trying to capture the pain and cage it somewhere deep into Mikey. "I don't mean to hurt you, Mikey. I can't hurt you," Gerard whispers softly in Mikey's ear. "I can't hurt you deliberately. If you're in danger, of getting physically or emotionally hurt, I can't just stand by and let something happen. I have to protect you," he continues, lifting one hand up to stroke Mikey's hair back from his tear-stained face.

"That doesn't make sense," Mikey croaks out. "What about now? I'm hurting now because my grandma died. You didn't do a thing to save her." Mikey wriggles around to free himself of Gerard's embrace, but they both remain in the cave of feathers. There's a short flicker of pain in Gerard's shining eyes as Mikey continues. "Why didn't you save her?"

"It was her time to go, Mikey. She was old, there was nothing that anybody could do to save her." A fresh batch of tears glitter in Mikey's glossy eyes. "She's not even my charge, you are. Even if you're related, I can only help you directly." Gerard lifts one of his big, warm hands to cup Mikey's cheek, wiping away a few tears with his thumb. Mikey draws closer. "I'm sorry," Gerard whispers against Mikey's lips, and it's weird because he isn't actually breathing, so he can only feel the movement of the angel's lips.

Mikey presses closer, opening his lips and letting out a whimper as Gerard's lips caress his, softly as if they were made of the most fragile porcelain. He feels the round spots where Gerard's fingertips touch his cheek; they're hot and they gently bring his face closer and closer to Gerard's. His own fingers sneak up and tangle in Gerard's damp locks of hair, instinctively deepening the kiss. He can tell that Gerard isn't an experienced kisser, but right now it doesn't matter, because Gerard's tongue rubbing against his own is so much more important.

Minutes later, he's using both hands, touching wherever he can reach on Gerard's naked chest, arms, neck, hair and face. Tingles travel up the nerves in his spine as Gerard's hands tentatively slide in under his shirt and up over his chest, spreading his warmth. He lets Gerard take it off, and at the same time he notices that the wings are no longer wrapped around them. It's still dark, though, the only light coming from a small lamp in the living room. "I've dreamed about this," he groans against Gerard's skin, kissing along his jawline.

Gerard doesn't reply, but climbs on top of Mikey as he lies down. Their lips meet for a short moment, and it's like kissing a volcano, Gerard's mouth is so hot. He bites back a moan as Gerard's lips kiss their way down his neck, dragging his tongue occasionally over Mikey's most sensitive spots, and a thought flashes through Mikey's head. He must have watched. He finds himself bucking up involuntarily against Gerard as the angel's lips and tongue kiss one of his nipples teasingly, as he rubs the other one with his thumb. "Gerard..."

He forces his eyes up, not knowing exactly when he had closed them, and the scene before them is as close to perfect as his dreams could ever get. Gerard is on top of him, kissing his chest like an expert, and his beautiful wings are relaxed, simply spread out all around them on the floor. They're glittering in the little light there is, and he instantly wants to see all of Gerard glitter. Covered in sweat or whatever, he wants to see Gerard shine.

He doesn't ask for permission when he moves his hand down to find the fly of Gerard's black jeans, thinking that Gerard won't mind as he sure seems to be in for it, but as soon as he pops the button, the trance they're in is broken. Gerard literally flies off of him, wings twitching and beating around, almost knocking a few photographs off of the wall.

Mikey looks up in shock at Gerard who's standing pressed up against the opposite wall, an even more shocked expression on his face. Gerard fixes his pants as Mikey stands up and slowly walks closer, trying to gain eye contact with the angel. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have... I should... I should go," Gerard says, speaking so quickly he almost stumbles over the words.

Mikey looks at him in fascination, but also in slight disappointment. There are no traces whatsoever on Gerard. Nothing that indicates that they have just made out for what seems like hours. His hair is of course a little ruffled, but it's like that normally too. But, unlike Mikey, his lips aren't swollen, his cheeks aren't flushed red, his chest isn't covered in a sheen of sweat and there's not even a hint of an erection in his pants. There's nothing.

"Don't go. It's my fault too; I shouldn't have kissed you," Mikey pleads, still stepping closer as he eyes Gerard cautiously. Gerard hasn't moved an inch until Mikey's standing right in front of him, gazing into his only weakness. The irises of his eyes are so bright and burning they seem to be almost pulsating, like a heart would beat. "The eyes are windows for the soul," Mikey breathes, his eyes barely an inch away from Gerard's. Their noses are brushing against one another and their lips could kiss, but Mikey can't stop gazing into Gerard's eyes, the secret gates into him.

His eyes seem to always be getting brighter, more yellow-ish in color than brown as they had seemed at first, and the pupils never get dilated either. They're just big burning circles with a tiny black dot in the middle, and it's entrancing. They're the only part of Gerard that is truly alive, and it's the most beautiful and captivating sight Mikey has ever witnessed.

Gerard opens his mouth to speak, but Mikey knows what he's going to say, and cuts him off. "Stay, please, stay the night. I know that even if I convince you to stay for just a little while, you'll be gone, or invisible or whatever, as soon as I'm asleep." He pauses shortly, leaning in and resting his head on Gerard's shoulder. "I want you to stay the entire night. Until the sun goes up, until I awake and can know for once that it's not a dream." He feels Gerard's hand on his chest, pushing lightly. "Gerard, I won't... I won't do anything again, not even kiss you, I promise. Just stay."

He feels Gerard's hands on his face, gently pushing it back until he's facing Gerard again, staring into his extraordinary eyes. Then, he's caught by surprise as Gerard leans in and attaches his lips to Mikey's, holding his face in place. It's not a deep kiss, just a soft brushing of lips and an agreement for Gerard to stay. "I'll stay," he whispers against Mikey's lips, "but I'll be gone before Frank returns tomorrow."

Mikey nods, understanding, and backs away from Gerard. He's exhausted after the long day and the roller-coaster of emotions he has been on. He can still feel his heart mourning inside his chest, but all the hurt is repressed by Gerard's presence, and he knows that once the angel leaves the next the day, it will come back full force again. He goes to shut off the light in the living room, and when Gerard is still standing up against the wall when he passes him, he tells him to bring his t-shirt back to the bedroom while he goes to the bathroom.

Gerard is standing stiffly in the corner when Mikey enters the bedroom, the t-shirt flung on the edge of the queen-sized bed. "Do you wanna borrow something else to sleep in?" he asks lightly, pulling out the drawer in which he keeps old clothes that are comfortable to sleep in. He doesn't necessarily use them very often, having Frank over most days of the week, but he hasn't bothered to rinse his wardrobe or drawers out in a while.

"W-what?" Gerard stutters, gawking stupidly at Mikey. "I, I don't sleep."

"Oh." Mikey blushes slightly, feeling almost as stupid as Gerard. "You're not planning to stand there all night, are you?" he asks carefully, trying to figure out a way to get Gerard to at least lie with him. "You'd probably scare me to death if you stood there and I woke up in the middle of the night." He smiles and reaches his hand out towards Gerard as he sits down on the bed. Just lie with me, please?"

"I can't, " Gerard whispers, not taking Mikey's hand. He points at his wings, as to explain, but Mikey keeps his gaze locked with Gerard's.

"So lie on your front, and you won't crush your wings," Mikey says lightly, reaching a little further to grasp Gerard's hand himself. He tugs on it, and Gerard steps over to him, and stands so Mikey's face is level with his pale, flat stomach. He has to fight hard not to run his hands all over Gerard's thighs, ass and crotch, but as he simply places a kiss on Gerard's hip, they both seem to relax a great deal. "Jeans aren't very nice to just lie in for a very long time." He looks up at Gerard.

"I'll manage."

Mikey strips to his boxers before climbing into the bed and under the cover before waiting on Gerard, who lies down awkwardly on top of it. His wings are sprawled out on either side of him, one of them covering Mikey's torso, making him so warm that he has to push down the cover so it's just over his legs. He lies on his back as close to Gerard as he can, their fronts almost pressed against one another, and their faces close. "Is this okay?" Mikey whispers in the dark to Gerard's eyes.

"Yeah. You okay?" Gerard replies, and Mikey nods.

Their lips meet in a short kiss, and after whispering quiet goodnight's to one another, Mikey falls asleep.

*

When Mikey wakes up, Gerard is still there. His eyes are closed and his face relaxed, and his body is hot against Mikey's as they still lie in the same position as Mikey fell asleep in. Gerard's head is resting on Mikey's outstretched arm, and his arm has tightened around Mikey's skinny waist. The wing is still flung over his upper body, keeping him warm.

Gerard said that he can't sleep, and Mikey is fairly sure that the angel is just resting, or maybe dreaming, fantasizing. Gerard's lips are closed firmly in a small smile, a tiny grin that seems to have spread all over his face, although it's hard to tell because his hair has fallen down over it. Mikey shifts a little so he's lying slightly more on his side, and Gerard's grip on his waist tightens automatically as Mikey reaches out to touch the angel's face.

He brushes the black locks out of the pale face, loving to feel their silky structure against his sensitive fingertips. It's not like any hair Mikey has ever felt; it's not worn out or damaged in any way, it's completely perfect. The skin on Gerard's face is the same. It's smooth and soft, light and warm, much more so than it is for a human. Mikey drags his thumb along Gerard's pink lips, remembering the kisses from last night.

"I love you."

Gerard opens his eyes, staring straight at Mikey with his piercing eyes, and it feels as if he's mad, as if Mikey did something very wrong. Mikey removes his hand and simply stares back, their faces mere inches apart, and he waits for Gerard to respond, to do something.

But there's only silence and stillness for a very long time. The only existing movements are coming from Mikey as he breathes, and his hand that is absentmindedly caressing Gerard's wings, stroking along the long shiny feathers. They're identical to the two Mikey keeps in the bottom drawer of his nightstand, the one where Frank never looks, so they can be kept a secret. He had removed the framed one from the wall the day after Gerard's second visit, and the subject had never came up again with Frank.

"No, you don't." Gerard finally breaks the silence with his firm, dark voice. Mikey lets out a soft sigh, but keeps sliding his fingers along Gerard's wings, fingertips tingling. "You only think you do. Because I'm an angel; because I'm different."

Mikey knows that some of Gerard's words are true, but only the last sentence. He knows what it's like to love somebody, to be infatuated, smitten, in love with somebody. That's what he feels for Gerard, even if it is for the sad reason of Gerard being an angel, something different to what Mikey is used to. But there is more than the wings. There's more than the fiery skin and warm embraces. There's more than the golden eyes that are the most human part of him.

"I do love you. There's no way not to."

Gerard shakes his head. "No. You love Frank. You love your mom and your dad. You loved your grandma. You love your friends and your extended family. You love Frank's dog. You love the way Frank makes you feel. His smile, his hugs and his laugh. You love him." Gerard's face is sincere, seemingly void of emotions. "Believe me, you don't love me."

"Believe me, I do." Mikey leans in and presses his lips against Gerard's. Gerard doesn't kiss back this time, and Mikey simply holds his lips there, only to feel Gerard's heat. "I can love both you and him. You're so different. It's not the same kind of love," he breathes on Gerard's lips before pulling away.

Not saying another word, Mikey rolls out from underneath of Gerard, and the angel stands up, turning his back towards Mikey as he dresses in the same sweatpants and t-shirt he wore last night. Once he's done, he steps over to Gerard who's staring out of the window at the rain that's still falling down. He stands in between the wings, burrowing his face in the back of Gerard's neck, and wrapping his arms tightly around the angel's chest. "I have to go now," Gerard says, and Mikey replies with a quiet 'I know' that disappears in Gerard's hair. "Frank will be here any minute."

As Mikey eases his grip on Gerard's chest, the angel turns around, holding Mikey's face gently in his hands. "I love him, but I love you more," Mikey says softly, meeting Gerard's eyes. They're so emotional it almost hurts to look, and they both close their eyes as their lips connect in a deep, passionate kiss that could have lasted for years if it weren't for the sound of Frank's voice ringing through the air.

"You can't have me." With that, the kiss is broken and Mikey turns to leave the room. As Gerard disappears behind him, the pain wells up in his chest, and it's far worse than it was last night, the hurt from not being with Gerard adding to it. When he meets Frank in the hallway, the tears are already running down his cheeks, and suddenly nothing is better than Frank's arms holding him close.

"I'm sorry. I left my phone in the car, and I didn't get the messages until this morning. I'm so sorry," Frank says, and Mikey just nods, too busy crying to really care. They retreat back into the bedroom, not speaking since there's no need to, except for the sweet, sweet little nothings that Frank is whispering reassuringly in Mikey's ear.

Most of the day is spent like that. Holding each other, then falling asleep for a few hours, and then holding each other some more. Nothing else is needed, and they are both emotionally exhausted by the end of the day when they fall asleep for the night.

Mikey doesn't even notice the shiny feather on the window sill until two days later.