round four prompt post - CLOSED TO NEW PROMPTS
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ROUND FOUR IS NOW CLOSED. FEEL FREE TO CONTINUE POSTING FILLS. ROUND FIVE IS NOW OPEN!
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Harvey could only watch with wide eyes as the surge of fleeing people pushed Mike further and further away from him, until someone blocked his view of him entirely, and when he looked for his associate again, he was gone.
He’s fine. He’s just fine. I just can’t see him. He knows where to go. He’ll go back to the office. I just can’t see him right now. It’s really crowded. He’s fine. He’sfinehe’sfinehe’sfine.
But no matter how logical he tried to be, Harvey couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. He couldn’t ignore that voice in the back of his mind that was telling him that he had to find Mike. Some might have called it a protective instinct, might say that he worried about his associate whenever he was out of sight (and truly, though he would never admit to it, even to himself, he worried about him quite often), but he was Harvey Specter, and Harvey Specter didn’t do protective. Or worry. Or anything, really, that might make him seem like he was anything less than a god in spotless Armani.
So, Harvey Specter, having completely and totally convinced himself that his associate was absolutely, positively fine, resolutely turned himself around, away from where he’d last seen his associate, so that he could see the building where Pearson-Hardman was located, and started pushing his way through the throng of people.
Right back around to where he thought he’d seen Mike.
“Mike!” Everyone around him seemed to be pushing in the other direction, away from where the shots had been heard, but he determinedly squeezed between people, moving against the flow, to where he thought he’d last seen his associate. “Mike! Mike?"
The thing about Harvey Specter was that he had an almost infallible faith in himself. He was the best closer in New York City. He was Harvey Specter. He was Harvey Specter and Harvey Specter knew that Harvey Specter didn’t do failure, because he was Harvey Specter. And maybe that was cocky, and maybe it was unrealistic, but he was a steadfast believer in his own abilities, because he believed that anyone who wasn’t wouldn’t get anywhere. But that day, with the seemingly endless crowds and incoherent screaming and the wailing of sirens, he found his faith in himself waver, because as his panicked eyes roved the faces around him, Mike was nowhere to be found. What if something had happened? What if something was wrong? What if Mike was hurt? If he was hurt he might be…
That was when Harvey turned his eyes to the ground, pushing his way through the constant flow of bodies. “Mike? Mike?” And there he was, curled on the ground just a few metres away, barely visible through the shifting curtain of running legs. “Mike!” But Mike made no motion to indicate that he’d heard Harvey, and Harvey felt the panic that he was still denying was running through him double. Now that he could see his target, he ran faster, shoved through people harder, until finally, finally, he was dropping to his knees beside the prone form of his associate, and, as quickly as possible, knowing that he was very much in danger of being trampled himself, picking him up, throwing him over his shoulder, and standing back up again.
And then he was running, running, running, holding Mike as tightly as he dared, trying not to think about the bruises, the blood, the tiny shaft of white bone just barely poking out through the tatters of a suit beyond ruin, and the way Mike had been curled up on the ground, desperately shielding his head with his slim arms, utterly silent amid the cacophony of the panicking crowd.
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I was nervous because it was super rushed and totally not polished at all
but yeah, I hooope I can get some more up soon, but it's midterm season and I'm going to fail calculus
WHATUP
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alsssooo, THANK YOU, to all previous replies
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I hope to see this someday continued. Keep up the great work, anon! :)
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