moisturebug



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    “You kept my painting,” Will says. Sure enough, there’s the heart on Mike’s shield, just as red as the day Will painted it. It was Will’s heart that he painted, maybe. It was also Will’s heart that he pulled out and molded into the lie he thought Mike needed to hear, halfway between Salt Lake City and a secret government bunker in Nevada.

    Will’s heart is in his throat now, and in Mike’s hands, and on Mike’s wall, framed and carefully displayed.

    They stand there in silence for a minute, Will on one side of the room and Mike on the other and too many years of radio silence in between. The quiet is so heavy it’s like a weight on Will’s chest, crushing him, applying pressure—but to a wound or to a bruise, he doesn’t know.

    “Will,” Mike says. “Why are you here?”

    (or, will has some realizations and a lot of hard conversations, and not every loss is forever.)

    Series
    Language:
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    29 Dec 2025

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