Title: let us go then, you and i [1/3]

Summary: a guide to recognising that he's still the love of your life, and how to deal with that after you divorce him.

Pairing: Harvey/Mike, Mike/OFC

Rating: PG-13

.

The sunlight on the garden

Hardens and grows cold,

We cannot cage the minute

Within its nets of gold

-Louis Macneice

It's quiet in the apartment, the TV on low, the few lamps that are lit emit a soft glow that lends a gentleness to the place that Mike knows Harvey will never admit was intentional. Harvey's in the kitchen and Mike can hear, when he listens for it from his spot on the sofa in the lounge surrounded by sheets of paper that make up his lawsuit, the soft "thk thk" sound of Harvey slicing vegetables on the wooden chopping block.

It's a domestic scene, one that's been well crafted over the four and half years they've been together. It's like any other of a multitude of nights that Mike can remember in perfect detail.

He knows, though, that it's not.

He's not read any of the sheets in front of him for over ten minutes and Harvey's been slicing and dicing for much longer than that, both silent. Mike's lip is tender from where he's been nibbling at it for days; his shoulders ache with the tension held within them.

The sound of chopping ceases and Mike closes his eyes when he hears Harvey heave a sigh, then another and then there's the soft pad of feet across the hardwood floor and Mike smiles as he remembers the first time he ever heard the sound, the first night he'd spent at casa Specter.

He turns when Harvey doesn't say anything and it's to find Harvey leaning casually against the doorjamb, his arms folded across his chest and Mike returns to half bittersweet, half fond smile that he can see on Harvey's lips.

He knows what's coming.

"I love you," Harvey says and Mike nods even as his chest constricts as it always does when Harvey says the rarely uttered words. Harvey nods again and looks to his feet, all traces of the lawyer in him fleeing as he battles with the words that Mike knows are banging against his chest, desperate to break free. He breathes, the inhale huge, the exhale quiet. "I love you, but I can't do this anymore."

Mike nods.

"I know."

Mike doesn't move out straight away. Harvey insists he stay until he could get a decent apartment sorted out, until things settle down between them and Mike doesn't really have any energy to argue.

The first few nights he tries sleeping in the guest room but it's cold and impersonal and he hates that he's sleeping in the guest room. After the fourth night of no sleep, when he's lying in the bed staring out over the city he hears the door open and the semi-darkness is split apart by a shard of light from the hallway.

"Come to bed," Harvey murmurs and Mike turns then, and stares at Harvey at the words. "I hate that you're sleeping in here."

And Mike gets it.

He settles in beside Harvey, not touching, and their noses are separated by a good few inches. It's strange because he still wants Harvey, still loves him but this is also the most right anything has felt between them for such a long time; no expectations, no worries, no tension.

Mike falls asleep.

The day that the divorce is finalised is the day that Mike moves into his new apartment. It's only a few blocks from their- from Harvey's place and the movers take care of most of it. Harvey stands in the middle of the room directing everything and Mike watches him from the kitchen and feels a fond smile creep across his lips even as something pangs in his chest, threatening to dislodge the carefully placed lid he has covering the simmering ache there.

Harvey offers to stay and help him set up but Mike can't- he declines and Harvey watches him for a few moments before nodding. He leaves a few minutes after the movers and Mike pretends he doesn't see the way he lingers in the door, and Mike has to quell the urge to throw his arms around his ex-husband and just hold on.

He doesn't unpack (doesn't like the finality of it) and sleeps on the sofa in the lounge in his jeans and t-shirt. It's the first time he's cried in the sixty-three days since that night.

"Honestly, you would never think you two had ever gotten a divorce," Jessica (Dickens, not Pearson) says over lunch in Mike's office and it's the first time anyone has mentioned that word in front of him despite it being four months since it was finalised.

"How so?"

She rolls her eyes.

"You still do that… gravity thing."

Mike scoffs to hide his laugh.

"Gravity thing? Really? What even is that?"

She cocks her head and levels him with a stare.

"You know the thing where there's a force of nature between you that makes you orbit one another? That thing where you both at each other look like the other hung the moon and stole the stars?"

Mike stills. There's that ache simmering in his chest again and it's ridiculous because he wanted this. He's happier now than he's been in nearly a year. It doesn't mean he doesn't still love Harvey, and he'll admit that to anyone who asks. He thinks Harvey would, too.

"I think that's all Harvey and I were ever meant to do." She frowns. "Orbit each other," he clarifies and has to look away from the pitying look on her face.

"Mike-" she begins but is cut off by Harvey saying the same thing.

"Ah, sorry," Harvey apologises. "I was going to ask if you wanted to grab lunch before heading over to Champan's but-" he waves to the ensemble in front of him, which Mike sees from the corner of his eyes because he can't quite bring himself to look up at Harvey. "I'll get Ray to swing back in about an hour and pick you up."

Then he's gone.

Jessica leaves not long after and Mike uses the rest of the allotted hour to look through jobs ads online.

"You don't have to leave."

Mike's getting beer from the fridge when Harvey calls through to him from the sofa and Mike rolls his eyes.

"I know I don't have to. I want to," he says as he returns from the kitchen and he catches Harvey's wince at the words. He thinks over them quickly and rolls his eyes. "It's not about you, Harvey."

"I didn't say it was." Mike raises his eyebrow and Harvey scowls. "You have to admit that the timing's a bit… convenient. People are going to think-"

"I don't care what people will think." He settles back into the sofa, turning his attention back to the game (Giants at the Jets that neither Harvey nor Mike had managed to get tickets for). Harvey's silent for so long that Mike turns to him, to find Harvey staring at him with the pinched expression that Mike knows well. He sets his beer bottle down and turns to Harvey. "I'm not leaving you, Harvey."

Harvey snorts and turns away, "That ship's already sailed, Mike."

Mike frowns.

"I didn't leave you, Harvey. You were the one who brought it up. You were the one who-"

"Don't try and put all of this on me. You'd left a long time before I ever said the words. Why do you think- No. It doesn't matter, just watch the game."

But Mike's stuck somewhere between shock and anger and he grabs onto Harvey's arm to turn him.

"What? Harvey-" Harvey sighs and pulls away from Mike's grip but he doesn't move to stand. "What do you mean? I thought you wanted-"

"I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you, Michael, but only if you wanted to spend yours with me, too. I could see you weren't… I was suffocating under the weight of you not wanting it." Mike can't breathe and there's an ache that starts on the left hand side of his body that is spreading out across his chest and down his arms and legs and his fingers are tingling and his eyes are burning and- "That's what I couldn't do anymore." Harvey sighs and tilts his head back against the couch, stares up at the ceiling.

People think that Harvey doesn't feel and for the most part, they are right. But when he does, he really does. Mike knows this, which is why the weight of Harvey's words almost crushes him.

"Harvey-"

"And now you're leaving me again." He pushes himself to stand and Mike doesn't stop him. Can't. "I don't want your pity because for the past six months I've actually been able to breathe but the thought of not seeing you every day is- Christ, I'm terrified I'm never going to see you again."

Mike can't help it. He laughs. It's soft and fond and Harvey glares at him but Mike reaches out, catches his wrists and pulls him back down to the sofa. Harvey's reluctant but Mike draws him into a loose hug and laughs into his neck.

"Turn the drama down a notch, Juliet." Harvey makes a noise of protest at having his words repeated back to him but doesn't try to pull away. "Maybe without me hanging around all the time you might get laid." Harvey stiffens and Mike winces, tightening his arms slightly. "Too soon?"

"Yeah."

"Christ, I must have really done a number on you, huh?"

Harvey pushes away then but he's smiling, even if only slightly.

"Don't let it go to your head, rookie," and that's a nickname that Mike's not heard in years and it makes him smile. "We both know you're as broken up on the inside as I am about this."

Mike snorts but doesn't deny it.

Mike's first week as a lecturer at NYU (he's not sure how he bagged that one and he's dying to see what Harvey and Jessica (Pearson) wrote in his references that had NYU calling up three days after he submitted his application) is hard and Harvey's there on Friday night with beer and a DVD and it's good.

On Monday, week two as an imparter of knowledge, he meets Claire. She teaches English (language and literature because she couldn't decide which she preferred) and she asks him out on Tuesday night but he declines on the grounds that he's tired but really, he's freaking out because he's not been on a date with anyone but Harvey for over five years.

She asks again a week later. He says yes.