nibbles and harvey

MFC #40 Famous Last Words - “Awake & Unafraid”

“I thought I told you to leave,” Harvey says as hears Mike step through the door and walk in, his steps solid and determined.

He should have locked the door. But he’s been standing in the same spot since Mike left. Thinking, or more accurately, trying not to think. He hasn’t even refilled his glass although he really wants to. He hasn’t trusted himself to move. Uncertain as to what he would do. If he had gone to lock the door, there was a big chance he would’ve just walked out, and kept walking until he caught up with Mike. The safest option was to stay still.

“Yes, you were clear.” Mike’s behind him now, Harvey can hear the hiss of the fabric as Mike takes off his jacket. The blue one.

“The ‘don’t come back’ was implied.”

“You should have been more specific.” Mike’s voice is still slightly ragged from their earlier shouting match. Harvey wonders briefly if his own is as well. He clears his throat.

“Would you have listened?” He tries to keep his tone as detached as possible. Mike’s moved – probably to put his shoes away and Harvey feels a little bit better knowing Mike’s not looking at him as he asks. He can practically taste the desperation on his tongue. It’s undignified.


Harvey doesn’t want to be relieved at that admission. But it’s there nonetheless: the lift in his chest, his hitched breath. Which is part of the problem. This is why Harvey needs this to end, now. He can feel the want filling him to the brim, almost choking on it, it’s too demanding. It’s not okay. It’s not okay that the thought of Mike walking away for good is making him stand still in his own goddamn kitchen, unable to trust himself.

“You can’t order me around anymore,” Mike says, and he’s back. He’s on the other side of the kitchen island, putting away the glasses. Their glasses. He takes Harvey’s glass from him, and he watches as Mike finishes it off before putting it in the sink. There’s nothing between them now. Mike walks up to him, standing too close for comfort and touches Harvey’s hand.

Harvey can’t help it, he can feel Mike’s gaze heavy on him, and he has to look back. Mike’s eyes are wide, red, from earlier, probably. He’s searching Harvey’s face for something. His lips are parted, just the slightest bit, like has the words on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn’t want to show his hand just yet. Or maybe he’s just scared.

Harvey tries to withdraw his hand, but Mike clamps down, holding it tightly. He’s not budging, which makes Harvey’s heart swell and ache at the same time. He doesn’t need this. Harvey doesn’t need anyone. He’s perfectly fine alone, he’s not scared of being alone. He’s thought these words so many times; at first it was a mantra, and later, a reminder. It’s always been true. It’s still true. It will always be true. This is why he does the leaving. Because he has always been, and will always be, fine.

“To think you always say I think to much.” Mike speaks so quietly Harvey wouldn’t have heard it if he weren’t focusing all his attention on him.

His fingers push past Harvey’s cuff, pressing against his wrist. He brushes spot he always kisses and nibbles at. Harvey can’t help but shudder. Mike voice is low and liquid when he says, “You can’t pretend you don’t care anymore, you know that right?”

“I don’t need you,” Harvey says, at last, looking away. Mike seems unfazed. He lifts Harvey’s hand and traces his thumb on his palm. He’s being too gentle.

“No, if we’re being precise, I suppose you don’t,” Mike says. “If we’re being precise, I suppose I don’t need you either.”

Harvey doesn’t expect Mike’s words to affect him, but they do. And Mike must notice, because his mouth softens the tiniest bit. He moved closer and Harvey’s chest tightens at the proximity. Harvey doesn’t trust himself to move– still. If he does, he knows what he’ll do: pull Mike into his arms, so tight they’ll both bruise, kiss him until they’re out of breath, clinging onto each other for dear life. He can’t let it happen. Especially not now.

Mike’s hands cup his face, his thumbs caressing his cheekbones. Harvey leans into the touch on instinct.  He can feel Mike’s breath against his cheeks, his lips. He can breathe it in.

“But I want you,” Mike says, his breath warm and light. He’s so close now, he’s practically speaking into Harvey’s mouth. As if he wants the words to take root inside of him. “I want this. You can’t scare me away, Harvey. You won’t scare me away. You have to trust me, remember? Don’t you trust me?”

That’s it. Harvey inhales sharply, his chest cracking open. He brings his hands to Mike’s neck, fingers brushing against his hair. His pulse is quick beneath his fingers. Harvey kisses him once, pressing his open lips against Mike’s, hoping to convey everything he can’t say.

“I trust you,” Harvey says, and he has no doubt his voice is ragged.