=Eighth in Line=
Ice
Their laughter was grating to his ears, the sound of their self-absorbed happiness cutting into him repeatedly, the thin blades causing thousands of tears in his heart. She didn't even notice. At least he hoped she didn't notice, because if she had noticed, had seen that he was being shredded from the inside out and didn't care, he could die right there.
Rose had chosen to hang out with him while the Doctor tinkered around the TARDIS and Mickey had thought that for once, she had chosen him above the Doctor.
They'd been there for almost an hour, their chatter eventually settling into a comfortable silence as each had picked up an interesting book to look through, when the Doctor had come in. Rose had taken up most of the sofa as she'd proper herself up on one end and stretched her legs to the other side, her shoes on the floor. The Doctor quietly sat in the space left over, opening a book he'd taken off the shelf.
Mickey's shoulders had tensed when he'd seen the man walk in. He'd tried to ignore the feeling and continued looking through the pictures of Ertaxkis: A History of Ships. Then he'd heard Rose giggle. Glancing over, her mouth was turned up in that happy smile of hers and she'd pulled her feet closer to her while the Doctor continued to sit there, ostensibly just reading.
A few minutes later, Mickey heard her giggle again and the Doctor exclaim as her foot apparently connected with his side. From there, both had given up the pretense of reading and were currently waging a battle of who could tickle the other the most, completely ignoring the fact that he was bloody sitting right there.
Despite the fire that burned beside him, Mickey felt encased in ice, from the inside out.
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