Things Mike Ross Wanted To Say To Harvey Specter But Never Did.

Grandmother.

Mike Ross walked into Pearson Hardman on a Monday morning, his steps heavier than usual and his eyes carrying a weight that couldn't be concealed. Harvey Specter, a master at reading people, immediately sensed something was amiss. He had known Mike for years now, and their bond had transcended the typical attorney-associate relationship.

As the day progressed, Harvey discreetly kept an eye on Mike, noting how he rubbed his temples in an attempt to ward off a persistent headache and the way he cleared his throat as if it were scratchy. Harvey knew that Mike was keeping something from him; he had a knack for sensing secrets.

During a rare moment when their paths crossed in the hallway, Harvey's hand subtly reached out and landed on Mike's shoulder, squeezing it gently. "You okay, Mike?" he asked, his voice laced with a genuine concern that only those who knew him well could detect.

Mike looked up, momentarily taken aback by the unexpected display of empathy. He forced a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah, Harvey, I'm fine. Just a little under the weather."

Harvey's gaze lingered for a second longer than usual, and Mike felt as though his mentor had looked straight through the façade. But Harvey simply nodded and continued on his way, leaving Mike to wonder if he was imagining things.

The following day, during a late-night work session that extended into the evening, Harvey couldn't help but notice the weariness in Mike's eyes. He glanced at the younger man, who was hunched over a stack of papers, and then casually reached into his briefcase, producing a bottle of pain relievers. He placed it on Mike's desk without a word, a subtle gesture that spoke volumes.

Weeks passed, and Harvey's concerns grew as Mike continued to push himself harder than ever. But it was one day, when Harvey found Mike lost in a distant gaze, a hint of tears glistening in his eyes, that he knew he couldn't stand by any longer. Harvey casually sauntered over, leaning against Mike's desk.

"Something on your mind, Mike?" Harvey asked, his tone casual but his eyes sharp.

Mike blinked, caught off guard by the question. He hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. "Nah, just... thinking about a case."

Harvey's lips quirked into a half-smile. "You sure about that?"

Mike's resolve wavered. He sighed and looked down at his hands, his guard finally starting to crumble. "It's just... It's been really hard. It all happened so quickly. I mean...heart attack? Seriously?! She was fine a minute ago and just gone the next. "

Harvey's eyes softened, a rare display of empathy that only those closest to him got to witness. "I know, kid. Losing someone you love, it's never easy."

Mike nodded, his throat tightening. "I've been trying to keep it together, you know? Keep working, stay busy. But sometimes... it's just overwhelming. I just wished I'd have spoken to her more. Visited her more. Especially this past week. I just keep thinking if there was something more that I could have done..."

Harvey's hand found its way to Mike's shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "You don't have to go through this alone. We're here for you, Mike."

Mike's eyes welled up, and he looked away, trying to hide the tears that threatened to spill. "Thanks, Harvey."

Harvey patted his shoulder once more before returning to his own desk, leaving Mike with his thoughts. It was a simple exchange, a conversation that didn't need many words. But in that moment, Mike felt a weight lifted off his shoulders. He realized that it was okay not to be okay, that he didn't have to bear his grief alone.