"Don't read my e-mails!" Mickey prayed she wouldn't read his e-mails. Oh, why didn't he erase those messages from Blake? He had told Blake all about his plans for him and Rose, about the...oh god. He ran into his bedroom, as nonchalantly as he could given his state of panic. She hadn't noticed. She had gone straight to the computer. Good. He slyly grabbed the small, velvet box and stuffed it in the bedside table, breathing a small sigh of relief before joining Rose at the computer.
He hated letting her go into that nutter's house alone. But beautiful, brilliant, stubborn Rose wouldn't hear of him coming. He shook his head, laughing slightly at all the things that drove him crazy and made him love her at the same time. He grabbed the box out of his pocket. He had taken to carrying it around with him—not really sure why. Maybe he was hoping the right moment would just present itself. His thoughts were interrupted by a noise coming from a nearby trash can. What was that?
Sitting there in that...lair, with that...plastic magma monster thing, Mickey was still rotating that box around in his hand. Was Rose safe? Had she found that man, the Doctor, or whoever? Would he keep her safe? Or would he put her in danger? He had a bad feeling the latter was true.
Mickey knew he was a chicken. He loved that Rose was so brave, and she helped him, really. But he was still terrified of so many things. Aliens were now on that list. But the highest one on the list of Mickey Smith's fears was losing Rose. He somehow knew, as he stumbled out of that blue box, that he was losing her. Had already lost her, maybe. When the Doctor told her to come with him, Mickey's heart sank. He pleaded, "Don't, he's an alien, he's a...thing."
He could hear the Doctor trying to convince her. "You could stay here, and fill your life with work and food and sleep."
And me, Mickey added, though only in his head. He got on his knees and grabbed Rose's waist, willing her to stay. Making sure that she remembered just how much he loved her. It worked, seemingly.
As the Doctor's blue box vanished, the two started walking off, and Mickey stuck his hand in his pocket, feeling like now was quite a good time to show her the ring he had been carrying around for the better part of two weeks. But before he could, the box came back.
"Thanks," she had said. Thanks for nothing. He sat on the crates in that alley for a half an hour after they left. He could feel his heart breaking, how corny was that?
He wished she had read that e-mail.