The day was long for Micky as he desperately waited by the phone for word from Mike. Micky didn't even want to leave the house in fear of missing the call, and he was so frustrated that he actually had no idea when - or even if - Mike would ring him.
So Micky hung out at home, reading books and watching TV. He even resorted to a bit of cleaning to kill the time - that's how desperate he was for a distraction from his worry. Micky would've liked Mike to have called him once the Texan had gotten a flight, but alas all Micky could do was wait and wait some more.
It was early evening and Micky was lying spaced out on the couch when the phone finally started ringing. Micky leapt off the couch and almost fell over as he dashed towards the phone.
"Hello?!" Micky said almost desperately into the receiver.
"Hey, Mick." Came Mike's sombre voice.
"Oh thank god." Micky said, breathing a sigh of relief. "I've been waiting to hear from you all day."
"Are you alone?" Mike questioned.
Micky frowned. "Of course I'm alone." He replied. "I'm hardly in the mood to have people over, am I? I've been going out of my mind worrying about you all day."
"I told you that you don't need to worry about me." Mike said.
"I thought I'd have heard from you hours ago." Micky said, rubbing his face. "When did you arrive?"
"I got a flight more or less right away, so I've been here all day." Mike replied. "I just got back from Ma's. It's been a long day."
"How is your mom?" Micky wondered.
There was a short silence. "She could be worse, I guess." Mike answered. "It's hard to know what she's feelin', to be honest."
Micky resisted all temptation to make a comment about how Mike was clearly just like his mother. "Yeah..." He said, scratching his head. "And how's everyone else?"
"Shocked. Which is stupid really, seeing as Grandma was sick." Mike said.
"You still can't prepare yourself for losing someone though." Micky told him. "Are there any plans for, you know, for the funeral yet?"
"Yeah, that's what we've been doin' today." Mike replied. "Turns out Grandma was pretty organised and knew exactly what she wanted. It's happenin' Friday, which is good. We only got a few days to wait before she's laid to rest."
"Oh, that's good." Micky said, surprised that they'd managed to get the funeral organised so soon. "Well, not good exactly, but you know what I mean."
"Yeah. I know, Mick." Mike said.
A short silence followed.
"And how are you..?" Micky asked cautiously.
"I'm fine." Mike replied, and Micky closed his eyes in response. "Just tired. It's been a long day. It's real hot here too."
Micky sighed deeply. "And how are you feeling apart from being tired and hot?"
"I'm tellin' ya, I'm fine. Seriously, Mick. I told you that you don't need to worry about me." Mike tried to reassure him.
"I can't help it though." Micky sighed, sitting on the chair closest to the phone. "I wish I was there with you. I don't like the thought of you in that house on your own. Do you even have any food in or anything?"
"My mom called the housekeeper to get the place ready for me." Mike replied. "She cleaned the place, made up the bed, put a few essentials in the cupboards. It's all good, Mick. Everything's fine."
"I could've done all that though." Micky said, leaning his head against the back of the chair. "I hate that you're on your own."
"Micky," Mike said, his voice sounding a little warning. "Please don't."
"I'm sorry. I'm not trying to make you feel bad, I just... I just feel really hopeless here."
"Well don't." Mike said firmly. "I love you, baby. You're right to be there and not here. I don't want you worryin' about a single thing, you got me? I'll be home in a week or so, probably."
"I could come to the funeral." Micky suggested, cringing as he said it. He knew full-well what Mike's response would be, but he couldn't help himself.
"No." Mike replied without hesitation.
"It's not like I never met her; I did meet her that time, remember? So I could just say I was in town and wanted to pay my respects or something." Micky went on.
Micky could hear Mike sighing down the phone. "I ain't gonna keep repeating myself, Micky. You can't come and that's the end of it. I love you, but please stop pushin' me. I ain't gonna change my mind."
Micky nodded, which was stupid seeing as Mike couldn't see him. "Okay. I'm sorry. Really... I'm sorry about everything. I just want to help but I know there's nothing I can do."
"Just don't worry. That's all I ask of you right now. If I know you're okay, I'm okay." Mike said, his voice a lot softer this time.
Micky was frustrated that Mike seemed to be making it all about Micky. "I love you so much, you know that?"
"I do know, Mick. And I love ya too." Mike said gently. "But look, I'm gonna go now. I'll speak to ya soon."
"You'll call me tomorrow?" Micky asked hopefully.
"I will, babe. I promise." Mike replied. "Love you."
"Love you, Mike."
"Bye."
"Bye."
And then it went quiet. Micky sighed sadly, looking at the phone in his hand. Micky wanted a hug. Micky wanted a big, fat cuddle with Mike. More than anything though, Micky was pretty sure Mike needed a hug, too. Micky couldn't imagine Mike's mother giving her son a proper hug; from the times Micky had met Mike's mom over the years, he'd found her to be a little stony and she came across rather hard. Micky knew not to judge her too much; after all, that was how Mike appeared to some people, although Micky knew that couldn't be further from the Mike that he knew. Micky knew, probably more than anyone else, that Mike was gentle, soft and incredibly kind. He was selfless, a lot of the time, with a unique power of making out that he didn't give a shit when in actuality, he really, really did. Mike was frustrating, and Mike was proud. Micky wondered whether it was pride that kept Mike from revealing his true pain about his grandmother's death, or maybe he was just in denial at the moment?
Micky wasn't 100% sure of the reasoning behind Mike's defensiveness. Micky wondered if, when Mike was alone, he gave in to his real feelings and emotions. Micky couldn't exactly picture Mike sitting in a dark room crying his eyes out, but what if he was wrong? The thought made Micky shudder. If Mike was going to give in and face his true feelings, Micky wanted to be there for him. If Mike finally felt like talking about his loss, Micky wanted to be there to listen.
Two days passed, and it was now the day before Mike's grandmother's funeral.
Mike had spent the day with his mother and aunties making final preparations for the following day. It was early evening by the time Mike headed back to his Texas-home - a very modern but modest one-story house that he stayed in whenever he came to visit his family. It had been another hot day as well, and Mike was looking forward to crashing out on the couch with a cold beer after another long and challenging day.
Mike parked his rented car up in the driveway to his house. When Mike got out of the car, he noticed someone sitting on the porch leaning against the front door, looking down at something. The person was wearing shorts, a t-shirt, a cowboy hat and shades. Mike frowned, wondering who on earth was sitting outside his house on a day like today, and when he got even closer he noticed the person was looking down at a book. A little closer still, and Mike noticed some rather familiar curls poking out from underneath the cowboy hat.
As Mike climbed the steps to the porch, Micky looked up from his book, finally noticing the Texan coming towards him.
"Micky?!" Mike gasped, stunned to see his partner sat waiting for him.
Micky dropped his book and quickly scrambled to his feet, stumbling and almost falling over as he did so. "Don't be mad." Micky said quickly, pressing his hand against the front door to steady himself. "I know you said I shouldn't come but you didn't even call me yesterday and- and I'm here now."
Mike's head was in a spin. He looked around quickly before unlocking the door and letting them both inside. Micky grabbed his bag and once the door was safely closed behind them, Mike turned to his lover.
"What the hell are you doin' here?!" Mike asked, as surprised as he was angry.
Micky pulled off the sunglasses and cowboy hat. "Why do you think I'm here?" He asked gently, placing his hat and shades on a cabinet just inside the door. "To see you, you idiot."
Mike rubbed his face with his hand, shaking his head in disbelief. "I told you not to come." He snapped.
"I know you did. And if you want to kill me and bury me in the back yard then fine, because at least I've seen you first." Micky went on. "Nobody know's I'm here. I said I was going to be out of town for a few days and that was it. And nobody saw me outside, either. That's why I wore the hat and glasses, so no one would recognise me. I was trying to be incon- inconspicuous."
Mike run his fingers through his hair. "Why the hell didn't you tell me you were comin'?"
"Because I knew you'd get all mad and tell me not to." Micky replied. "I was going out of my mind at home so I just thought, fuck it."
Mike could hardly believe Micky was standing in front of him. He didn't know whether to hug him or shake him.
"Well how long have you been sittin' out there for?" Mike questioned.
Micky shrugged. "Uh," He looked at his watch. "About three hours."
"Micky, it's about 96 degrees out there!" Mike said in dismay.
"I was sheltered by the porch, and I had my hat." Micky protested, fluffing up his hair with his hand. "It did make my head sweaty though."
"Mick, it's still boilin' hot even in the shade, you stupid boy." Mike stared at his partner in horror.
"Yeah..." Micky conceded. "I could do with a drink of water, to be honest."
Mike tutted loudly before walking towards the kitchen. His house was open-plan and Micky followed Mike the short distance to the kitchen sink. Mike quickly grabbed a glass, filled it with water and thrust it at his partner almost aggressively.
"Thanks." Micky said sheepishly as he took the glass. He wasted no time in knocking the water back.
"Stupid boy." Mike repeated, angry that Micky had been waiting for him for so long and that he was even there in the first place. "I can't believe- I can't believe you came all this way when I told you not to."
Micky swallowed the last of his water and sighed with relief. "You can't tell me what to do." He said with a little bit of attitude. "And also, the one thing you asked of me was not to worry. Well there was no way I was going to not worry until I saw you, so technically me being here is doing what you asked."
Mike scrunched his face up in disbelief at Micky's logic. He was frustrated, annoyed and angry that Micky had disobeyed him, but at the same time a part of him fell in love with Micky even more.
"Please don't be mad." Micky said, his confidence slipping. He suddenly looked sad. "I know I went behind your back, I know you specifically told me not to come... but I'm here now."
Mike closed his eyes, sighing deeply. He was facing an inner battle with himself that he didn't have the energy to fight. "Come here, you idiot." He said, striding up to Micky and wrapping his arms around him.
Micky responded to the hug by squeezing Mike tightly, nuzzling the Texan's neck. Just feeling Micky's arms around him made Mike feel calmer and like a small weight had been lifted. Mike pulled back quite quickly though, placing his hands on either side of Micky's face and staring at the younger man intently.
"I can't believe you came." Mike said, shaking his head as he gazed at his boy. "Look at ya, you look like you've been meltin'. You stupid, stupid boy."
"I am pretty hot." Micky admitted. He flapped his arms slightly. "I probably don't smell too great either. Sorry."
Mike pressed his lips against Micky's in a swift, quick kiss. "When will you learn to listen to me?" He asked.
"Maybe when you actually start talking." Micky replied seriously, staring at Mike with the same level of intensity that Mike looked at him.
Mike stepped back, turning away from his lover. He put both hands to his face, rubbing it hard and taking a deep breath.
"This is a really nice place you've got here." Micky said, looking around the large open-planned room.
"Yeah, it ain't bad." Mike mumbled, scratching his head. He looked up at Micky. "Have you eaten?" He asked before frowning at himself for his stupid question. "Of course you ain't, you been sittin' on my porch for hours on end."
Micky smiled sheepishly. "Yeah... I haven't eaten since this morning. But don't worry about it; I can rustle somethin' up."
"Don't be stupid." Mike said, waving his hand dismissively. "You should go freshen up. I got a pie in the refrigerator that my aunt sent me. I ain't sure what it is, but-"
"That sounds great." Micky smiled.
Mike stared at Micky once more, still unsure whether to be angry with him or not.
Micky's face fell. "You're seriously pissed with me, aren't you?" He asked.
"I told you you couldn't come with me. You totally went against what I said." Mike said, staring at Micky once again.
"Technically I didn't come with you. You've already been here a couple of days, so it's not like we came together." Micky said in his defence. "And like I said, nobody knows I'm here, and even if they did, why would they suspect anything? Can't a man support a friend without people getting suspicious?"
Mike scratched his head. "Well... like you said, you're here now."
Mike showed Micky to the bathroom so he could take a shower and cool himself down after a long afternoon of waiting in the heat for Mike. Once Micky had freshened up, the two of them sat in silence eating the pie Mike's aunt had sent him. Mike's mind was spinning; he was so angry that Micky had disobeyed him, but on the other hand he was almost flattered that Micky had gone against him purely to be with him. Mike admired Micky's balls and his ability to do what he thought was right even if he knew he'd get shit for it.
Mike stared at his now empty plate, his mind racing. Micky watched the Texan as he finished the last of his pie.
"You know, you were less mad than I thought you'd be." Micky said, breaking the silence. He laid his fork down on his plate, looking up at his partner. "I thought you'd be furious."
"I am." Mike replied bluntly.
"No, you're not." Micky protested, causing Mike to look up. "You're pissed, but you're not angry. Not really."
Mike shook his head slowly. "I told you I didn't want you to come."
"No, you didn't." Micky said without hesitation, and Mike frowned in response. "You said you didn't need me to come, which was probably a lie. But you never said you didn't want me to come."
Mike looked down at his plate again. "You're unbelievable." He muttered.
"In a good way or a bad way?" Micky wondered innocently.
Mike looked up to see Micky looking at him with that innocent expression, those soft almond-shaped eyes gazing at Mike adoringly, even though Micky knew Mike wasn't totally happy with him. Mike's heart melted. He suddenly realised how good it was to see Micky's face, so boyish and flawless, so soft and kind. Mike's stomach fluttered which annoyed him - when did he get so weak? Micky disobeyed him, and Mike believed he should be furious with the boy in front of him for going behind his back. But Micky was right, and Mike wasn't furious at all.
"You got a lot of nerve, boy." Mike finally said, a half-smile on his face.
Micky smiled back. "I know." He admitted. "I thought you might drag me back to the airport kicking and screaming and send me straight home again. But I had to be with you, babe. I've hardly been able to sleep thinking about you here on your own."
Mike tutted loudly, his smile fading. "I told ya I'm fine, Micky. I shouldn't have to keep repeating myself."
"But are you glad to see me?" Micky asked. "Are you glad that I'm here?"
"I don't know what you expect to do," Mike said, ignoring the question. "I'm gonna be out all day at the funeral tomorrow."
Micky scratched his head nervously. "I uh, I didn't want to tempt fate, but... but I did bring a suit with me. You know, just in case you wanted me to come with you-"
"No." Mike cut Micky off before he could finish, and the Texan felt his entire body go stiff and tense. "I ain't goin' through this with you again."
"But I did meet her. I mean, what's so wrong about me paying my respects too?" Micky wondered.
Mike took a slow, deep breath, desperate to keep his cool. "So you're sayin' you want to go to the funeral of a woman you only met once a couple of years ago?" He asked calmly.
"Yeah. Why not?" Micky asked. "I want to be there for you."
Mike closed his eyes, taking another deep breath. He looked up at Micky, staring his partner dead in the eye. "So you wouldn't want to sit at the back of the church then, out of the way?"
Micky opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out - he'd clearly not thought about that. "I uh, I don't know."
"I do." Mike said matter-of-factly. "You'd want to sit next to me. And you'd keep lookin' at me to make sure I'm okay. And then you'd try to hold my hand."
Micky frowned. "I wouldn't do that. Why do you think I'd be that stupid?" He asked, looking a little hurt.
"Because you're the most loving, sensitive and affectionate person I've ever known." Mike replied without any kind of hesitation. "You have a heart of solid gold and you give a shit about people. God only knows why you give a shit about me, but you do. Look at ya - you came all this way just because you didn't believe me when I told you I was fine. You don't know when to stop, Micky. You don't know where to draw the line."
"That's not- that's not fair." Micky said. "I know what we can and can't do. I know that I can be here with you right now but that I can't hold your hand in public. Do you think I'm stupid or something?"
"No. I think you think with your heart instead of your head." Mike replied, still holding Micky under an intense gaze. "I love you for it, but it ain't practical. Not for the life we have to lead, anyway."
"I'll sit at the back then. You won't even have to know I'm there." Micky said, now unable to look Mike in the eye.
"I will know you're there, because I'll be lookin' over my shoulder all day long." Mike said. "Because I know you. And you'll be watchin' me to make sure I'm okay."
"No I won't..." Micky muttered quietly, pushing the crumbs around his plate with his fork.
"Yes, you will." Mike said. "And what about next time, Mick?"
Micky looked up. "Next time?"
"Next time somethin' like this happens." Mike replied. "Next time there's some big family event or crisis. Weddings, funerals... I mean, you have grandparents, Micky, and they ain't gonna be here forever. What happens when one of your grandparents pass away? Are you gonna want me to be at the funeral?"
Once again Micky opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out right away. He took a moment. "Yeah, of course I'd want you to be there." He finally said.
"Would you want me sitting next to you, or at the back of the church like a virtual stranger?" Mike questioned.
Micky was starting to look a little flustered. "I'd want you sitting next to me, but- but I know you wouldn't be able to. I get that." He said.
Mike reached across the table, placing his hand on top of Micky's. "It's never gonna be normal for us, Micky." He said firmly, staring into his boy's eyes. "There's always going to be a next time, and a time after that. And if we're always there in the shadows at these things, it ain't gonna be enough for you. You're always gonna want more than what we can have. There's always going to be somethin' you want that I can't give you. We have to be satisfied with what we got."
"I am." Micky said, his eyes pleading with Mike. "You're not being fair. You think I don't know all this, but I do. I know we can't be like normal couples, I get that. But- but you're so paranoid. People aren't going to think I'm your secret male lover just because I attend your grandmother's funeral."
"Maybe not." Mike said honestly. "But when these things keep addin' up, people might find it strange. We can't take that risk, Micky. I don't know how many times I have to tell you. And you wouldn't be happy just sittin' at the back of the church away from me. And what about the wake, huh? Would you wanna come to that too? Because that's family only, babe."
Micky stared down at the table. He looked upset, and Mike felt so guilty.
"This is why I didn't want you to come." Mike said quietly, withdrawing his hand from Micky's. "Because you always want more."
Micky looked up. "I just wanna be there for you. I love you." He said in a sad and gentle voice that broke Mike's heart a little bit.
Mike looked at his boy. "You are here for me. That's what you need to understand. But I am fine, Micky. Honestly I am. I'm totally okay and I don't want you to worry about me."
"But you shut me out." Micky said sadly, staring at the Texan. "I'm not talking about the funeral. I get that. I get that I can't come, and I'm sorry, because it was stupid for me to think I could. But you don't talk to me, Mike. It was just you, your mom and your grandma growing up, and it's like you're trying to make out that her being gone is just a minor inconvenience to you. You're not telling me how you really feel and it drives me crazy. I wish you'd let me in."
Mike pushed his chair back and rose to his feet. He picked up the empty plates from the table and walked to the kitchen.
"See, and when I push you, you just walk off." Micky called after him. "Maybe if you gave me a bit more of you, I wouldn't want so much of everything else."
Mike dropped the plates in the sink a little more aggressively than intended. He stared into the sink, anger starting to bubble in his stomach.
"Why won't you talk to me?" Micky asked, now standing beside Mike. "I want to know how you feel."
"I told you I'm fine, Micky!" Mike said, turning to his partner and raising his voice. "Why won't you change the goddamn record? I'm sick of repeating myself! It's like you're disappointed I ain't cryin' on the floor like a broken man. Do you want me to be some little project or somethin', huh? Somethin' you can fix and piece back together?"
"That's not fair." Micky said quietly.
"Well I'm sorry to disappoint you, Micky, but I really am okay." Mike spat. "So if you want somethin' to fix, you might as well go home and work on turnin' a car engine into a fuckin' flying machine or somethin'. Because I am fine, and I ain't gonna keep sayin' it."
"I'm sorry." Micky said, looking a little withdrawn and almost nervous by Mike's reaction. "I just... I know what it's like to lose someone."
Mike felt guilty. He almost felt sick with guilt, looking at Micky's unsure face watching over him nervously.
"I need some fresh air." Mike said, pushing past Micky and heading towards the back door.
Mike stormed outside into the back garden. At the bottom of the garden was a deck and some chairs - a perfect place to sit on a warm evening. The sun was getting low now, and the temperature had cooled down significantly. Mike slumped down on one of the chairs and run his fingers through his dark hair. Micky was hard work, but Mike admitted that he himself was hard work, too. Mike was frustrated that Micky never seemed to take the hint and just leave him alone, and it was beginning to drive Mike mad. Mike knew Micky's heart was in the right place, but that didn't stop Mike from wanting to tear his hair out.
Micky stayed indoors for a while, realising he may have tried Mike's patience enough for one evening. Micky was relieved that Mike wasn't too angry about his surprise visit, but at the same time he was disheartened that Mike still wasn't able to tell him his true feelings about his grandmother's passing.
Micky eventually made his way out into the garden to find Mike. Micky had never been to this house before and was surprised by how large and well-kept the back garden was. Micky walked across the lawn, the sun now casting long shadows on the perfect Texas summer evening.
"It's a beautiful evening." Micky said as he walked onto the deck.
"It's cooled down a lot." Mike added as Micky sat on a chair opposite him. "It's nice out here now."
Micky nodded. "This is a great garden, too." He said, looking around.
"There's a gardener who comes by every couple'a weeks to maintain it." Mike added.
"I'm surprised you don't come back here more often." Micky said. "This place is lovely."
"I used to come a lot more with Phyllis and the kids, you know, so our families could see the boys." Mike sighed.
"Are they coming tomorrow?" Micky wondered.
"Yeah." Mike replied. "Well, Phyllis is. The boys will be here but they won't be comin' to the funeral - it ain't really a place for kids. They're arrivin' in the morning. I think it'll do my mom good to see her grandkids."
Micky nodded. "Definitely." He said.
Silence fell upon the pair, the only sounds being a light breeze and traffic far in the distance.
Mike looked up. "Me losin' my grandma is totally different to you losing your dad, you know."
Micky looked at his partner. "How is it different?"
"Because my grandma was an old lady, and she was sick." Mike replied. "I mean, she was a grandparent. Grandparents ain't gonna be around forever."
"Nobody is going to be around forever." Micky added.
Mike raised his eyebrows, nodding his head in acceptance of Micky's point. "Yeah," He begun. "But it still ain't the same. You were just a kid when you lost your dad; a teenager. And your dad was way too young to die."
"Age isn't important." Micky said, looking at Mike with narrowed eyes. "People are still people and these are still lives. I'm not saying that a child dying is the same as an old person dying, but they're all human beings. Everyone is special to someone else. Okay, maybe it's more tragic when somebody dies young, because that's not the way it's meant to be. But the fact is, when somebody dies, they're gone, whether they're 55 or 105. Somebody is still gonna miss 'em. You think just because your grandma was old, you're not allowed to grieve?"
Mike was silent for a moment, looking out over the garden. "I didn't say that." He said quietly.
"Then why are you comparing her death to me losing my father?" Micky questioned, failing to understand Mike's logic.
"Because they ain't the same things at all." Mike said, looking at Micky again.
"Maybe not," Micky replied. "But at the end of the day, my dad was important to me, and your grandma was important to you. And neither of them are around anymore, and that's... that's sad."
Mike looked away again, and Micky was desperate to know what was in Mike's head.
"It's not a competition." Micky added after a few moments silence. "And for the record, no, I don't want to see you a "broken man". I don't want to have to fix you. I just want you to stop acting like a goddamn emotionless machine. I know people deal with things differently, and I get that. When my dad died, I didn't want to talk about it at first, either. I thought talking about it made it real. I couldn't even bring myself to say the words; "my dad has died." because it was like turning a nightmare into reality. But burying my emotions didn't help, either. It was...it was hard for me. I felt like I had to be the man of the house and be strong for my mom and sisters. My mom always used to tell me she was fine when I knew she wasn't, because she was trying to protect us all and be strong for us. She was the parent; she felt like that was her job."
Micky paused, looking towards Mike. Mike's head was hung as he listened to what Micky was saying.
"And maybe I can get you trying to be strong for your mom or whoever, because that's the kind of guy you are." Micky continued. "But you don't need to be like that with me. You can talk to me."
Mike remained silent. Micky watched his lover closely; Mike was the most interesting and infuriating man Micky had ever met. He was unpredictable, too, and Micky had no idea whether the Texan was going to shout at him, hug him, storm off, or actually think about confiding in him.
"How much was your flight?" Mike asked.
Micky sat back, completely stumped by that question. He looked around in confusion. "What?"
"Your flight," Mike replied. "How much was the ticket?"
"Wha- why?" Micky asked in a high-pitched voice, narrowing his eyes and staring at Mike in utter confusion.
"Because you came all this way just to see me, the least I can do is pay for your ticket." Mike said, looking as if he was completely unaware of how bizarre he sounded.
Micky's face scrunched up in confusion and disbelief. "Wha- what? Mike, what? I don't- I don't need you to pay for my ticket." He said.
Mike rose to his feet. He stretched as he stood, completely ignoring Micky's obvious confusion. "I don't mind." He said.
"Mike, I can pay for my own flight." Micky said, trying to figure out how the hell Mike's mind worked. "Why would you even ask that?"
Mike looked down at his boy and shrugged his shoulders. "I was tryin' to be nice."
Micky scratched his head. "Uh," He blinked hard, trying to process the way the conversation had turned. "You really don't need to do that. You didn't ask me to come here; actually, you asked me not to come. So the least I can do is pay for my own flight."
"If you're sure." Mike said quietly.
Micky looked up at Mike, and the Texan looked sad. Micky, at this stage, had no idea whether it was because he'd declined Mike's offer of paying for the flight, or whether it was because of their conversation. Micky actually had no clue how Mike's mind was working at all, and it unsettled him deeply.
The pair of them were silent as they looked at each other. Micky wondered if Mike's guards were falling down. The tall Texan looked tired, weary almost, and it hurt Micky to see his partner like that.
"I love you, Micky." Mike said sadly.
"I love you, too." Micky replied gently, standing up. Micky reached out and gently touched Mike's dark hair. "I'm on your side, you know." He continued softly. "I do know what you're going through."
Mike placed his hand on top of Micky's and laced their fingers together. Mike brought Micky's hand down from his face and stared down at it as Micky watched on, wondering what Mike would do or say next.
"I'm glad you're here." Mike said in little more than a whisper.
Micky smiled, realising he'd pushed his partner hard enough for one day. "Let's go inside."