Mike can see Will pull back inside himself, out of reach and emotionless, and it blurs his vision because he's the reason. He doesn't want to break his heart again any more than he wants to break his own, and yet here he is again, staring at the shards lying between them. Except this time he knows there's no gluing them back together. He'd come back hoping that he could cross some of the distance between them and all he'd managed was to make it insurmountable.

He almost wishes Will were angry. He'd be willing to take on any yelling or insults better than he can the sheer impassivity in his voice. Mike hears finality in it as he unlocks the doors and he gropes blindly for the handle, the world a blur. "I'm sorry," Mike says, his voice breaking as his fingers find the handle and he pulls. The door swings open and Mike stumbles out of the car, his knees weak. He gets hallway to the basement door before a sob escapes his mouth and he can't hold it in anymore. He turns back toward the car at the curb, to finish telling Will what he should have. To say the biggest truth of them all.

But Will is already gone.