FicWad

"Am I crazy?"
Mikey turns his head to the side, feeling the blanket shift on top of them. He can faintly see Pete in the semidarkness; he reaches out and takes his hand.
"Am I crazy, Mikey?" Pete repeats. Mikey moves closer to him when he hears Pete's voice crack, and wishes he could take away all of his pain.
"I don't think you're crazy," he says softly.
"I feel crazy."
Mikey knows that Pete feels crazy, and he knows that pills and doctors don't always make him feel any less so. He knows that sometimes he can't sleep, and that people make him feel as anxious as they make him feel alive. Pete is staring at him with tears in his eyes. Mikey pulls him in close and kisses his cheeks, his brow, his jaw, every part of him that his lips can reach. "You're perfect," he murmurs. "You're perfect. You're perfect."
"Mikey," Pete whimpers, turning his neck to the side to give Mikey access to his neck ("You're perfect"). "Don't ever leave me..."
Please, Mikey thinks. Just let me keep this. Just this one.