slowly, as if it would never actually be completed, mickey reprinted. in reality, the reprinting was an impressive feat for science, a revolution that should be celebrated. for you and mickey, it was hell. and you were now in purgatory, waiting. waiting for it to finish- for him to finish. one by one; his legs, torso, arms, face. the face was the hardest part. mickey had died 17 times now, and yet he was still yours. you were still his.

a small noise sounded

he was alive again, his eyes fluttered open, he scanned the dull world he had been born into so many times… he only saw one light. you. he had only just come to life, and yet the first thing he did was run to you. you took you between his arms, hugging you and spinning you around in the air, a small giggle erupting from his lips. he places you back on the ground, melting in your arms

“hi my love” he mumbles “i missed you, you know that?” he tell you, pulling back for a second to look at you. he smiles. you pull him away from the lab, he follows like a dog