Reunited Paths: A Father's Journey (Harvey Specter ff)

Whispers of a Memory

Mike walked inside, closing the door slowly behind him. He was soaking wet, dripping water from every inch of his body. A few drops falling from the edge of his hair. His shoes made a sloshing sound with every step he took, leaving small puddles on the floor. His hair was plastered to his forehead, and water droplets clung to his eyelashes.

Harvey stirred on the sofa, feeling the pulsating pain in his neck from sleeping in an awkward position. He groaned softly as he pushed himself up, his movements slow and deliberate. His back was stiff, and he winced as he stretched, trying to alleviate the discomfort.

"Mike, are you okay? Where have you been?" Harvey spoke fast, his voice filling with concern, his eyes scanning Mike's drenched figure trying to take in any clues as to where he might have been. He took a few steps towards Mike, the dim light casting long shadows that seemed to mirror the tension between them. Harvey's heart raced, a mix of relief and worry coursing through him as he waited for Mike's response.

When Mike didn't reply, Harvey walked out of the room to grab him a towel. He returned swiftly and wrapped his son with the towel, softly rubbing his back in an attempt to provide him some warmth. Mike stood there, shivering slightly, but the warmth of the towel and Harvey's comforting touch began to ease the chill.
"Let's get you a nice hot shower," Harvey suggested softly. Mike nodded, still feeling the chill in his bones.

He made his way to the bathroom, the towel draped around his shoulders. As he stepped into the shower and felt the hot water cascade over him, he started to feel the tension and cold gradually melt away. The water washed away the remnants of the rain and his lingering sadness. For a moment, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to just feel the soothing heat, hoping it could also wash away the emotional turmoil he was experiencing.

He let out a sigh, taking in everything that happened in the past forty eight hours.

He had been so upset with Harvey, he didn't want to be in the house anymore. The four walls of his bedroom felt like a prison he couldn't escape from. The walls felt like they were gradually closing in on him. He felt like for the first time, the grief had hit him. He had been silently sobbing so Harvey wouldn't hear him. He had tried to muffle the sound with a pillow. Mike had locked the door just to be safe but he knew that Harvey would use the key if he needed to.

Mike woke up in the middle of the night, feeling overwhelmed by emotions. He was still angry and upset. He opened the door, in hopes to get water and try to clear his head. His mom always told him, that running away from your problems wasn't the answer, but there was something about seeing Harvey sleeping on the sofa that raged him.

Harvey was sleep so peacefully and it heightened Mike's feelings of being alone and misunderstood. The darkness outside matched the storm raging within him as he hurriedly left the house, his mind consumed by a mix of anger and sadness.

Mike had originally set out to visit his mom's grave, hoping to talk to her about everything he was feeling. He wanted his mom to sit next to him and listen to every complaint he had about life. Their talks had always brought him comfort, and he so desperately wanted that comfort. He wanted more comfort than the letter and her voice in the voicemails he had saved over the years. He wanted to feel the warm embrace of her hug, the soothing feeling of her voice, the way she tousled his hair, their easy banter that revealed their relationship was akin to friends more than mother and son. He wanted to go back to a simpler place, a simpler time; a time where his mother was around to check up on him, to watch movies with him and let him speak all his favorite lines.

As Mike got closer to the cemetery, he felt a wave of fear wash over him. His heart started to race, and he felt like he couldn't breathe. The idea of facing his mom's grave, of confronting the reality, of her being gone, was overwhelming. Visiting his mom in the ground would make the funeral absolute, Mike wasn't good at absolutes. He didn't like them. He was trying to hold off on make it a reality. He missed his mom, and sometimes it felt like she was gonna come back. She would kiss him on the cheek like she did when he was a kid. He didn't know if he could handle it. The anger and sadness inside him grew stronger, making him feel even more scared. A part of him wanted to go back, maybe he should have gone back to Harvey but after everything that happened between them, Mike couldn't.

He let his feet guide him, hoping his memory would lead him back. Eventually, he found himself in the park his mom used to take him to. He remembered the first time they went here, Mike smiled as the memory surfaced. 

He fell off the swings trying to jump off. His knees got scraped as a result, but it didn't hurt that bad so he didn't make a big deal of it aside from asking his mom for a bandaid. She had rewarded his bravery with an ice cream from the ice cream man. Mike had picked a SpongeBob one, and after that, they would always get SpongeBob popsicles trying to find the perfect one. It had become tradition.

The memories of his mom at the park with him danced in front of him. The picnics, eating watermelon, playing on the swings, riding bikes. He smiled softly at thoughts of his mom. He had spent the night laying on top of the picnic table they always claimed. He had started on his back, with his arms folded behind his head, by looking at the stars and imagining his mom next to him. He didn't know when he had fallen asleep, he doesn't remember the last thing that happened before sleep overtook him. He doesn't remember his dream either. He just remembers waking up soaking wet from the morning sprinklers.

Mike shut his eyes, letting the water fall all around him. He was haunted by the thought that she was really gone. He didn't want to cry in the shower but it did seem like it was the best spot to cry if he was trying to hide it.

Meanwhile, Harvey lingered by the bathroom door, listening to the sound of the water running. He wanted to make sure Mike was okay, but he also knew his son needed some space to process everything. The steam from the shower began to seep out, fogging up the mirror and filling the small room with a comforting warmth. Harvey sat close enough to the door but far enough away that it seemed like Mike wouldn't know that Harvey was waiting for him to come out. Harvey leaned back and closed his eyes trying to get some sleep before having a talk with Mike. He wasn't sure what he was going to say, but he had to say something.
He never had to second guess himself while talking to people before but it was time for Harvey to step up for the first time in twelve years. He had to be more in tune with his emotions when it came to Mike.

The water stopped running. The lack of sound woke Harvey up. He was more alert, paying attention to Mike's movements. Even though, they lived on a higher floor of the building, he was worried that Mike would find a way to runaway again. The kid was smart, Harvey would give him that. 

The door creaked open, Harvey could see Mike's silhouette through the steam. Mike stepped out, a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair dripping wet. Harvey's heart ached seeing his son like this, knowing the emotional struggle he was going through.
"Hey, Mike," Harvey said softly, trying to hide the uncertainty in his voice. "You okay?"

Mike looked at his father, a mix of emotions crossing his face. "Yeah, Harvey." Mike sighed, it was an indication that Mike wanted to be alone. That Mike was still upset with Harvey, despite all of Harvey's effort.

Harvey felt a pang of discomfort at the use of his first name from his son. But he didn't say anything. Harvey nodded, trying to understand the need for space. "Try to get some sleep, I'll be here when you wake up. We'll talk then."

Mike gave a small, appreciative nod before heading to his room. Harvey watched him go. He was unsure what he should have done. Should he have scolded Mike for running away? Should he have told Mike that he was worried sick about him? That he had a panic attack that Mike would be taken away from him. He wasn't sure, but Mike's body looked so tired and worn out. His eyes were puffy and red. Harvey wasn't sure if it was because of his son was still grieving, or if it was because Harvey had forgotten Mike at school. They both needed sleep, and Harvey was going to map out what to discuss with Mike tomorrow.

Harvey slowly walked up to Mike's room and placed a glass of water on the nightstand. He looked at his son, brushing the hair off his forehead, and placed a soft kiss on Mike's forehead. "Don't scare me like that ever again, kid," Harvey whispered, his voice trembling slightly.

Harvey wasn't sure if Mike had heard him, but he wasn't worried about it. The room was quiet, save for the soft hum of the city waking up outside. By the time he sat back down, the light from the streetlights was replaced by the sun, casting a warm glow through the curtains. Exhaustion weighed heavily on Harvey's shoulders, but he kept his eyes on Mike, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest.

Harvey reached for his phone and dialed the familiar number of Mike's school. He rubbed his eyes, trying to shake off the fatigue. "Hi, good morning. Sorry to be calling so early. This is Harvey Specter. I'm calling on behalf of my son, Mike. He won't be in school today; I'm afraid he caught something and isn't feeling well," Harvey spoke confidently, though the worry in his voice was unmistakable. He listened to the response, nodding absently, his thoughts still on Mike.