Work Text:
The fog creeps forward unnoticed and quiet. Whispering through the streets, around legs and between cars. Slowly, ever so slowly, it approaches its target. Wispy and damp, it plunges the temperature, leaving chill in its wake. The fog reaches his chest before Harvey notices. Attaching itself to all the vulnerable places, the depression settles in for a long stay.
Substitutes apathy for action, sadness for self-confidence. Dulls appetites. Mutes the world as only fog can.
This has never happened before. Not to this degree. And Harvey doesn’t know what to do. Pulling oneself out of quicksand—at least according to the movies—is not possible alone. Reaching out only works if there’s someone on the other end of the stick or hastily assembled rope.
He soldiers on at work. Stays busy. If he seems a little distracted, he counts on work pressure to explain it away. No one can know. Especially not Mike, who will turn himself inside out trying to help. It’s possible Donna knows. She’s talented like that. All the more reason to take on work that should be Mike’s. Stay busy.
“Harvey,” she says, surveying the layers of folders spread across his normally pristine desk. “If you don’t tell me what’s going on with you, I’m bringing in the big gun.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Donna,” he replies. “There’s nothing ‘going on’ with me.” Gaze averted, he keeps writing notes in the margins of one of the many documents in front of him.
“Besides,” he says, lifting his head and mustering up a smirk. “I am the big gun.”
“I don’t believe you for a second,” she says.
“What? You think there’s a bigger gun than me?”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” she says quietly. She searches his face, attire, and aura for signs. She’s met with an unfamiliar opaqueness. Harvey is like the brother she never had and she prides herself on reading him like a book. Something is blocking her discernment and she is concerned.
“Then say what you mean or leave my office,” he says, borderline peeved.
As she leaves, Donna says one word: “Jessica.”
She doesn’t need to look back to know that Harvey blanches.
——————
Mike knows something is bothering Harvey. Their evenings at home feel muffled, subdued. He’s used to Harvey playing his emotions close to the vest, but this feels different. And despite years of Mike cajoling and coaching, Harvey won’t talk about it.
“What do you want to watch tonight?”
“Don’t care.”
“Who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend?” Mike jokes, waits for the usually quick-to-emerge smile he loves so much. “What’s going on with you?”
“Did you talk to Donna today? She asked me the same thing,” Harvey responds, annoyed. “Don’t you have better things to do than gossip?”
“Woah, dude,” Mike says. He’s used to Harvey’s sharp tongue, but this barb sinks deeper. “I did not, in fact, have time to talk to Donna today. Too busy wending my way through the mountain of paperwork Louis dropped on me.”
Harvey picks up the remote and starts scrolling through the streaming options. He plays previews for shows they’ll never watch. Mike says nothing.
Until the silence gets too heavy. “What about that one?”
“Probably sucks.”
“We could watch something we’ve seen before.”
“Not in the mood.”
“What mood are you in, exactly?”
“Leave it, Mike,” he says sharply.
Mike pulls his arms across his stomach and slouches away from Harvey.
“Sorry, Mike,” Harvey says contritely. “I’m just tired from the day.”
“OK… But you’d tell me if anything was wrong, right?”
“Everything is fine,” Harvey insists. He continues to scroll, settles on nothing.
They sit silently a few beats then Harvey tosses the remote and it skids across the coffee table. “I’m going to bed.” He stands up abruptly and walks toward their bedroom.
Mike stays on the couch, mouth agape. The fuck just happened? he wonders. In the three years they’ve lived together and the two before that, Harvey has never walked away. Sure, they’ve fought. Argued. Bantered close to meanness. But this is different.
——————
Sleeping is out of the question. It’s only 9 pm and Harvey is wide awake, his mood roiling. He chooses a book at random from the overflowing shelf and grabs the blanket folded neatly at the foot of the bed. Settled on the chaise in the corner, he reads the spine only to discover it’s one of Mike’s favorites. Harvey huffs and opens the book reluctantly.
And then nothing. He decodes the words and reads nothing. His eyes move from line to line, paragraph to paragraph. At the end of the page, he closes the book. Thinks about throwing it across the room.
And then nothing. He regrets snapping at Mike and replays the conversation again and again. He thinks about swinging his legs to the floor, walking to the living room, hugging Mike. But he doesn’t move. He’s not sure he wants to move. Not sure he can. He’s frozen.
And then nothing.
He feels the weight of the depression in his body, but knows his brain is at fault. Eventually, he changes into sleep clothes and climbs into the bed. Heavy oblivion claims him instantly.
——————
Mike sits on the couch, frantically scanning their interactions over the past few days. Sure, Harvey has seemed distracted, but they’re busy people with demands pulling from all directions. He makes a note to check-in with Donna the next day.
——————
“Let’s go get a coffee,” Mike says nonchalantly. He glances over his shoulder. Harvey is head-down, seemingly concentrating, but Mike notices the pen on the desk. Harvey is never without a pen in hand.
“Yes, let’s,” Donna responds and gathers her purse. “Should we ask if he wants something?”
“Nah,” Mike assures. “I know what he wants.”
By silent agreement, they don’t speak until they exit the building.
“What the fuck is wrong with him?” Donna asks, a mixture of hurt and annoyance in her voice.
“I’m not sure,” Mike says. “He accused me of gossiping with you yesterday. Which, yeah, we’re doing now, but this is different.”
“You keep telling yourself that, sweetie,” she says with a smile. “Seriously, though. What’s going on?”
“I don’t know.”
“You, Mr. Let’s Talk About Our Emotions guy? You don’t know? This is serious.”
“Yeah, but I don’t think there’s anything to do.”
“Of course there is,” she insists. “Make him talk to you.”
“First of all, no one makes Harvey do anything. Second, I don’t think that’s the way to go.”
“Mike,” she begins. “I’ve known him a lot longer than you have. I’ve never seen him like this. Fix it.”
“I’m worried, too, Donna.”
She half-smiles and pats his forearm.
When they return to the office, Mike leaves Harvey’s favorite coffee drink (quad shot, one pump cinnamon syrup, splash of 2%) on the corner of his desk. He does not linger for the usual smile of thanks.
——————
During the day, Mike texts Harvey: I love you. Red hearts. I’m here for you. The emoji with the nerd glasses.
Uncharacteristically, Harvey does not reciprocate.
That’s OK, Mike decides. It’s enough to have sent them, no strings attached.
——————
Harvey sees that Mike has texted, but doesn’t respond. He needs to reserve his energy for his meeting with Jessica later. She’s known him even longer than Donna and Mike. He knows it will take one hell of a performance to deflect her attention from the fog he’s wearing like a shroud.
——————
Donna’s directive to ‘fix’ the situation swirls through Mike’s mind. She has known Harvey longer and even she has never seen him like this: silent, withdrawn, sullen. But he’s never thought of Harvey as someone to fix.
Mike’s heart aches—his own fault for being so open-hearted, Harvey would say—and if he thought Harvey would tolerate it, he’d hug him in the middle of the day, glass walls be damned.
——————
When Harvey finally reads Mike’s texts, he half-smiles but keeps his lips closed.
——————
“Let’s go home,” Mike says. It’s long after they would normally leave on a day without an all-hands-on-deck emergency. “We’ll get pizza on the way. I already called.”
“You go ahead,” Harvey says quietly. “I need to finish this.” He gestures at the folders on his desk.
“No,” Mike says. “You don’t need to finish any of that.”
“You calling me a liar?”
“Harvey, stop.” Mike approaches with the gentleness of a bomb disposal expert. “I’m not calling you anything. Except, perhaps, late for dinner.” He laughs softly, hoping Harvey will smile.
As Mike moves behind him, Harvey dips his head, chin to sternum. Mike places his hands gently on his shoulders. Squeezes ever-so-softly.
“Please let me help you.”
“There’s nothing you can do.”
Mike’s heart flutters with fear. He’s used to Harvey’s façade of independence but this is different. This wall feels unscalable.
“I wish there were,” Mike says quietly. He stretches around Harvey to tidy up the folders. Sorts blue from grey.
Harvey leans back slightly.
“Now, let’s go home. The pizza’s gonna be cold.”
——————
Settled on the couch, pizza half-eaten, Mike wraps his arms around Harvey and tugs gently. Harvey lets himself slip closer as Mike tightens the embrace.
“Not gonna ask what’s going on,” Mike begins. “But I do need you to know that, whatever it is, ‘I’m with you until the end of the line.’”
Harvey chuckles at the reference and dips his head onto Mike’s shoulder. Decides it’s time.
“It’s like I’m wrapped wet cotton and can’t move. I don’t feel anything except cold and empty.”
Mike waits.
“Well, that’s not totally true,” Harvey offers. “I’m frustrated that I let myself get this stuck.”
“You didn’t do this to yourself, Harvey,” Mike says.
Harvey looks away.
“Maybe harnessing that frustration would help.”
“Don’t therapize me, Mike.”
“Not intending to,” he responds. “I just know that, for you, frustration often leads to anger, which is one of the few emotions you welcome.” He chuckles. “All I’m sayin’ is that maybe anger is the scalpel you need.”
“And you think me getting angry at you is going to help?” Harvey pulls out of Mike’s embrace.
“That’s not exactly what I was thinking, but if that’s what it takes…”
“It’s not like there’s a switch I can flip, Mike. I can’t suddenly just be angry.” Harvey clenches his jaw, turns away from Mike.
Mike holds his palms out, shoulder height. “You sure?”
“I’m sorry, Mike,” he says, deflating. “It’s not your fault.” He nudges Mike’s shoulder with his own.
“Thanks,” Mike says. “But you don’t need to apologize. You’re in it. I get that. I just don’t want to lose you to the depression.”
Harvey leans back into Mike’s open arms. “I won’t let that happen.”
——————
“I’m dropping him at the boxing gym,” Donna announces when she appears next to Mike’s desk.
“What?” Mike asks, startled from the brief he’s reading.
She’s hovering over the wall of his cubicle, speaking quietly to prevent inquiring ears from overhearing.
“Boxing always improves his mood.”
“Donna,” Mike says, rising from his seat and taking her elbow. He leads her from the bullpen before continuing. “You don’t think that’s a bit extreme?”
“It’s what he needs,” she says, flipping her hair over her shoulder.
“Donna,” Mike hisses.
She walks away.
“Shit.”
——————
Harvey arrives at the office with a splinted thumb.
“What happened to you?” Mike asks.
“It’s nothing,” Harvey says.
“Pretty sure a splint means something.”
“Leave it, Mike.”
“No. I won’t leave it,” he says. “Tell me what happened.”
Harvey grimaces then says, “I wasn’t focused and caught the bag wrong.”
Mike approaches Harvey and takes his hand gently into his own. “Harvey,” he says gently. “I’m worried about you. I don’t know how to help you.”
“There’s nothing for you to do, Mike.”
“I can listen.”
“Maybe tonight.”
“OK.”
——————
“I don’t really know how to explain it,” Harvey begins.
They’re sitting opposite each other at the dining room table. Plates pushed aside, hands clasped loosely.
Mike squeezes.
“Try.”
“‘Do or do not…’” Harvey laughs, the smile reaches his eyes.
“Dork.”
“You’re the one who came on to me. What does that make you?”
“Stop deflecting,” Mike says gently.
The low light and glow from the fireplace illuminate the condo just enough to feel cozy and, Mike hopes, safe.
“It’s like I’m fogged in,” Harvey says.
Mike’s smile falters. He wipes the concern from his face and replaces it with open affection.
“Dulled.”
“Do you know why?”
“Not really,” Harvey responds. “All of a sudden, all I felt was apathy and boredom.”
“How can I help you?”
“Don’t pressure me to ‘snap out’ of it. Stick with me as I move through.”
Mike withdraws his hand and rises from the table. He walks behind Harvey and leans to embraces him. They stay like that for a while, Mike holding Harvey.
“I can do that.”
And he does.