“Nick…?” Mik had helped ease Nick’s body off of the tree, laid him gently onto the leaf-litter around them. The others that had helped him fight off Nick’s vines were already moving onto the next person, but Mik stayed behind with Nick, daring to cup Nick’s face. Waiting for Nick’s eyes to open. “Nick, come on, talk to me,” Mik prayed, wondering whether it would be obvious once he saw Nick’s eyes. Whether he would kick himself for ever confusing Nick with… whatever had forged a copy of his body. 

It was without doubt a lifeless existence. The haze was fraught with slithers of light cutting through the haze only to rescind. Voices doubling back and forth. Occasionally it was as if he heard his own but how could he be sure of that? He wasn’t even sure he knew who – - ‘Nick.’ Everything had shifted, as if his world had turned onto a fresh axis. Nick strained to open his eyes, forcing his eyes open only to be greeted with the hazy face of Mik. Sweet beloved Mik. “Mik…” He croaked, voice as parched as he felt.

Mik held his breath as Nick started to stir, his eyes creaked open a sliver. This was Nick, he knew that, but he found nothing right now that made the other Nick seem obvious. Mik shrugged off those thoughts, putting his attention to Nick right now. “Babe…” Mik whispered, heavy with relief that he’d said his name. That he’d recognised him. He looked thirsty, his lips chapped, torn. Mik pulled his water bottle from his fanny pack, slowly helping Nick sit up and then trickling water between Nick’s lips. “Hey…” Mik said, the chaos of the tree-grove around them fading to his periphery. “I know you said you’d like a tree-house, but…” Mik’s joke cut off as his throat seized up, tears threatening to pour down his face. No, he had to keep it together, stay bright and happy for Nick. “You went a bit far…”

Nick greedily accepted the water, desperate for it as Mik poured it between his lips, and almost couldn’t move his lips fast enough to guzzle enough down. Once he was sated, or at least had enough for the time being Nick turned his head to Mik. “What happened…?” There was a gap in his memories, an abyss that plunged deep but left nothing much for Nick to savour or dwell over. He felt weak, and worn out as if Mik had sent him on a morning marathon, but still he shifted. Coming to rest his head against Mik’s chest more than content to rest here for a little while and listen to the steady beat of his heart. This twist afforded him a view of a hollowed out tree, just enough space for someone to curl up into it. Nick cast his gaze away he didn’t much like the look of that. “Babe…what’s wrong?”

What was wrong? What wasn’t wrong. Nick had been kidnapped for… weeks? And Mik hadn’t noticed that he’d been swapped. He should have noticed, known that something was wrong earlier, but he didn’t. Did that make him a bad partner? He should have known. Mik smiled for Nick, hugging him back, trying not to notice the way Nick skitted his eyes over the hole where he had been. What he thought didn’t matter. He always tried to make it about him. “Well, despite you being stuck up a tree…” Mik trailed off, leaning down to kiss Nick’s forehead. “You’re back now. Nothing’s wrong.” Except everything was. 

Stuck in a tree. Sounded ridiculous but Nick knew better than to judge the island so harshly. Time and time over it seemed to prove itself more unbelievable than the last. Nick nestled himself in the halo of Mik’s warmth. Eager for it despite the otherwise amicable temperatures, he just wanted to feel right again. Nick groaned, letting his eyes slide shut as everything blossomed into a new world of pain. “I…think there’s a…” His dry cracked lips formed a smile before he’d even gotten to the punchline. “Thorn in my ass.” Nick dug his fingers into the soft pocket of Mik’s hoodie. It felt fatalistic to be wallowing about here but Nick wasn’t even sure he could stand. “Home? Yeah?”

Mik chuckled at Nick's joke, hungry for it. A return to their normal banter, like they weren't lying in the wreckage of a grove of trees with human shaped holes in them. Mik stroked Nick's hair as he closed his eyes and nestled in. That, at least, felt right. "You want me to pull it out?" Mik asked caringly, holding Nick gingerly close to him. "Home, yeah let's go home."

Mik carried Nick bridal style back to the lagoon. Nick mustn't have felt well, he only made one joke about it as they walked. Mik submerged them both in the water, and the world turned upside down as they travelled back through to South beach. To home. Mik's back started to ache as he walked on the path to their hut but he didn't dare say anything about it to Nick. He looked awful. Mik could bear an out back for him. It was only when they got in sight of their hut that Mik realised he shouldn't have taken them here. Their shack was a mess, flattened wreckage, caused by Mik's own hand. "Shit, yeah. I… uh… we might need a new hut," Mik said, gently setting Nick down on their sun lounger.

Nick didn’t complain about being carried, partly because talking was just too much effort. He wasn’t so much content but remarkably quiet but the whole affair. Though if he was being totally honest, being held by Mik after, apparently and allegedly, being held hostage by the tree. It was a delight. Nick only knew the latter because as they’d left the grove he’d seen others being freed. The sight was worse, far worse, Nick had at least been in blissful ignorance up until that moment. Being eased into the lagoon felt like a breakaway. Nick would’ve been happy to spend the rest of the day just floating, reabsorbing as much hydration as he could after being sapped dry.

But Mik carried him the rest of the way home. Their home. The little shack that they’d called their own, or what was left of it. Nick perched on the edge of the sun lounger and stared, blankly, at the wreckage of their hut. There wasn’t much left of it. “Did…” Nick started, not even sure exactly how he was going to end that sentence. Who? Why? How? Nick feebly made to stand but felt as if he was going to keel over. Mik was still close enough that he could grab a hold of him to steady himself. “What happened?” Nick asked, clearing his throat of what felt like thick vicious tree sap. Nick looked up at him. “Are you okay?” 

Mik had felt so righteous in tearing down this hut in the face of Nick and Emre’s ultimatum. That was before everything had come to light, before he realised it was a thing that wore Nick’s face. It had felt real at the time, but it felt stupid to fess up to it now, a situation that had felt surreal at the time. Mik shrugged, padding over to the wreckage and toeing it gently with his sliders. As if he could nudge it back upright. “It uh…” Mik’s throat closed up as he stalled at finding a way to explain this. “It’s a mess, yeah?” Mik glibly said, shrugging as he turned back to Nick. 

“I’m golden, babe,” Mik said, slipping into something easy. A salesman’s charm, the second skin he wore for the camera, for the stage. It felt good to smile, to exist as that surface level Mik who was never sad, who never fucked up or felt like he was treading water and starting to drown. “I’ve got you back, that’s all that matters.” He did mean that. His own problems seemed silly in the face of what Nick had gone through. “Though maybe I should go and see if I can source us a tent, yeah? Until we seduce that big guy to build us a real Alphonsus Manor, hm?” 

Nick watched him unravel, evident in the way that Mik pushed aside any real questions. Uttered that he was golden with a smile that appeared to be precariously balanced atop of their coded stones. For those that didn’t know Mik better they might’ve accepted this all at face value. Easy bright smiles that were charmingly disarming. Nick didn’t buy it. “Wait.” Nick reached out to wrap his hand about Mik’s wrist, once again performing a mirror into the past. 

“I know you aren’t okay…” How tenuous was the thread between them? Had Nick had a hand in the destruction of their hut? Admittedly, he hadn’t been the ideal partner. In some ways resenting Mik for washing up. He should be out there living his life. Being the personal trainer he always wanted to be. It was hard to let that go when being here seemed to only cause Mik harm. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. “Just stop, yeah?” 

Mik should have left as soon as he’d suggested getting a tent, not lingered around Nick. Because as soon as Nick grabbed his wrist he knew it was over. Nick knew. He’d seen through Mik’s mask like it was made of glass. Mik did his best to still his face as the next words came, as Nick asked him to stop. Mik managed to hold the smile for a few extra heartbeats, but his eyes gave him away. 

“I… I didn’t know it wasn’t you,” Mik admitted, the sin that had been tightening around his neck like a noose. “I… I thought you were off, but…” He hadn’t realised that Nick had been taken, replaced with some thing made of sand and evil. Mik turned to step next to Nick, both of them facing the hut, that way he wouldn’t be facing Nick. It would be harder for Nick to see the utter devastation he wore at that small truth. “I should have known, yeah?” Mik whispered, to hide the way his voice was breaking. 

“But that’s not really important. You’re back.” And he could barely stand, and Mik was upset with himself? That was why they kept fighting, right? Mik only thinking about himself. 

The crux of why Mik was upset came out as a quiet confession. Nick didn’t take his gaze off of him, even as Mik turned away from him. It felt like they’d been here before, without the island, without creatures and monsters in the night. Nick chewed on Mik’s words, letting them sit and settle before he articulated what he was thinking. Frankly, with the hazy gauze of green still ever present it was hard to think properly.

“It is important.” Nick answered finally, after letting the silence fall between them in the absence of words Nick could string together to smooth it all over. 

Nick didn’t say anything. Mik, who’d never been good at quiet, did all he could not to squirm as he waited for Nick’s judgement to fall. When the words did finally come, Mik flinched. Confirmation of his worst fears. Nick agreed, he should have known, he hadn’t been able to tell that Nick had been replaced… “I’m… I’m sorry,” Mik added, trying to pull his hand away from Nick’s. He was heating up, he didn’t want Nick to get hurt any worse than he already was. 

The warmth of Mik rapidly increased, and so when Mik tried to pull his hand free, Nick reluctantly let go. Instead replacing his hand somewhere that was a safe zone. Against Mik’s chest with the protection of several layers of clothes. “Mik…” He shifted, coming between Mik and the ruins of their hut. Leaning heavily on Mik to keep himself upright. “You are important…” Nick held on a little tighter. All these years Mik had always unquestionably been there, no matter what Nick said or did.

“I don’t…know what happened I can’t remember shit…” Nick said, whisper soft even if his voice sounded like gravel over sand. “Not you who needs to apologise…” Nick was starting to have a sinking suspicion that beyond the storm that had hit their home, he’d done much worse. How was he supposed to apologise when he didn’t even know what for. Nick did however, feel that fat wad of guilt for every snap, or short remark. He loathed to admit that the cliche was right, getting within kissing distance of death tended to reorient one’s world. 

“I’m sorry Mik.” 

Nick took his hand away and Mik didn’t blame him. Once burned twice shy and all that. He hadn’t expected that Nick would instead come in front of him, place a hand defiantly on his chest. Mik avoided Nick’s gaze at first, looking anywhere but at him. But when Nick said his name Mik’s eyes snapped to his, revealing just how upset and worried and self-loathing he felt in that moment. Mik breathed a deep breath in, and slowly let it out. He was important. Mik, centre of attention, life of the party, felt uncomfortable with that level of attention from Nick. He didn’t deserve it. 

Mik let Nick slowly come to his words. He should be resting, not trying to reassure Mik. Mik’s hand clenched at his side, resisting the urge to stroke Nick’s cheek while he was still running warm. Then, of course, Nick did the worst thing he could do. He apologised. “No, no, Nick. That thing wasn’t you,” Mik emphatically said, pulling down the sleeve of his hoodie so he could touch Nick’s chin safely, turn it up to meet his eyes. “It wasn’t you. You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” Mik insisted. Because if Nick apologised, it meant it was partly his fault. 

“Look,” Mik sighed, touching his cuff to Nick’s cheek. Terrified of hurting him when he was so weak. “You’re exhausted. You need to eat and drink and get some rest and… and we can discuss this some more later, yeah?” Mik smiled hopefully. 

Mik seemed to latch onto supposedly what must’ve been the most obvious reason for an apology. Nick parted his lips to clarify, but Mik had brought a hoodie coated hand up to his face. Once again circling it all back to rest, which Nick couldn’t argue with. He felt like death. “Yeah…” He agreed, falling into old quiet habits as he let Mik take the lead. 

Nick turned and steadied himself against the wreckage as Mik busied himself with pulling out their sleeping mat from the rubble. Little was left of the shack it had collapsed in on itself and the remnants lay wasted and strewn over the sand. There was no saving it. Nick was too tired to mourn the shitty little hut, all the time and energy he’d put into making it something. He was too tired for anything except he did notice an irregularity. Singular burnt in hand print on one of the beams that’d been supportive.