Junk

2

*5 and a half months prior*

As they drove, he couldn't get the thoughts out of his head. Was he doing the right thing? He looked at his sleeping wife beside him, leaning up against the window. He smiled slightly. They couldn't keep doing this. Mike swerved the car off the side of the road, slamming his foot on the brake and jolting it to a stop.

"What is it?" His wife slurred half asleep. "Are we here yet?"

"Not yet. I'm sorry," he muttered, looking at her.

"Oh, darling," she whispered, rubbing her eyes awake. "It's okay."

"I just panicked," he sighed looking down. "I didn't even have time to grab anything before I called you."

"I did." She said, rubbing his shoulder to ease the tension. "I knew this was gonna happen eventually. I already had a bag packed."

"Marie, please," he shook his head, pulling away from her touch. He slammed his fist into the steering wheel and let out a frustrated yell. Eventually, he crumbled and held his face in his hands.

"I have clothes and things for the both of us," Marie said, trying to be some comfort to him. "And don't worry. I have money and can get a job so we can buy back anything else we need."

"What're we doing?" He asked sadly, looking up at her.

She stayed silent at the question but put her hand back on his shoulder.

"I mean," he shook his head. "We can't keep doing this forever."

"Darling," she sighed. "I knew what I was getting myself into when I married you. And I don't mind. As long as I have you, we'll be okay."

Tears filled his eyes and he shook his head again.

"I panicked, Marie," he whispered. "I had my guard down for one second and-"

"It's fine, there's nothing you did wrong."

"I didn't even pack or tell them goodbye or leave a note or anything!"

"They'll understand," she smiled. "And they'll be okay."

"Yeah?" He scoffed. "How okay would you be if you found out your friend left you in the middle of the night? Or worse, never even existed!"

She sat up straight.

"Darling, Michael Nesmith existed. He's you, after all! Just because it's a different name and different accent, it doesn't mean he isn't still you. Same heart, same mind. It doesn't mean that you didn't have a real relationship with those boys and they didn't have a real one with you."

He sighed and rested his head on the steering wheel.

"I should never have met them," he muttered to himself. "I should never have let them get close."

"You really think I haven't made any friends over the years?" Marie asked, resting her head on her hand. "They'll move on, and they'll be okay."

It took her a minute to realize that he was crying.

"Oh, come here," she sighed as she awkwardly leaned across the seat to give him a hug. "You might've saved their lives by getting out in time, you know that."

He nodded and took a shaky breath.

"I don't want to leave them."

"You got a good three years in with these boys, you know that," Marie smiled, hoping that might cheer him up. It didn't.

"I shouldn't have ever moved in or gotten close," he repeated with a heavy sigh. "Then it wouldn't hurt so much to leave."

"I know you don't wanna leave, and I know you're worried about them," she turned his face to look at hers and wiped his tears. "But it's safer for you, and more importantly, safer for them that you left. Okay?"

He looked down and nodded.

"I love you," she whispered, kissing his cheek.

"I love you, too." He took a few deep breaths before turning the car back on and returning to the road.