Micky flagged down a cab and headed straight home. Once he was inside, he went straight for the kitchen, suddenly desperate for a glass of water. As always, as soon as Micky walked into the room, he found Mike sitting there at the table.
Micky paused upon seeing Mike. Mike didn't even bother looking up as Micky walked in.
"Why did you do that?" Micky asked.
Mike didn't answer. He just stared at his hands clasped together on the table.
"I just asked you a question."
Silence.
"I don't need you defending me." Micky went on. "You think I haven't been on the wrong side of disgruntled boyfriends before? It's the story of my fucking life."
"You need to learn when to keep your mouth shut." Mike said quietly, still looking at his hands.
"I could've handled him! You think I'm that much of a pussy that I can't look after myself, is that it?"
Mike went silent again, not once looking at Micky.
"Fuck you, man!" Micky's voice rose. "You and your stupid fucking mind games. What are you playing at, huh? What are you trying to do to me? You make out you don't give a shit about me, and then you pull a stunt like that? I thought you were going to flatten that guy! And why, because of me? For my benefit? I was being an asshole, I deserved a beating. So why did you defend me? Why?"
Mike carried on the way he was, just staring at his hands. He looked so sad, and Micky was reeling.
"Answer me." Micky said firmly.
Silence.
Micky strode up to the table, and he slammed both his fists down on to it, bending down and shouting into Mike's ear. "Answer me!"
Mike flinched, moving away from Micky slightly. He still looked ahead.
"He was going to hurt you." Mike finally replied in little more than a whisper.
"So? How is that your problem?" Micky stood up straight.
Mike was silent again.
Micky put his face in his hands. Mike glanced up at him, and he could see Micky was distressed.
"What are you trying to do to me?" Micky mumbled into his hands, almost to himself.
Mike looked up at him. "No, what are you trying to do to me?"
Micky emerged from his hands. "What?"
"Everything was fine, I was happy until you came along!" Mike said, his cool demeanour cracking. "We were happy, I weren't a cheat. I didn't cheat on my wife. We were fine the way we were, we were getting by, and then you come along and you screw everythin' up for me!"
Micky was dumbstruck. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"You!" Mike shouted, standing up. "You, coming into my life and screwing with my head! Why did you have to ask me to stay with you? Why couldn't you just leave me alone?!"
Micky's eyes were wide in shock and confusion, trying to process what Mike was saying, but failing to understand a word of it.
"I haven't done anything!" Micky shouted. "It was you, I was fine too, I was fine dealing with my shit, and then it was you, you fucking kissed me! And now you're playing fucking mind games, messing with my head!"
"You made me do it, all of this is because of you!" Mike shouted, and Micky couldn't ever recall seeing Mike so unhinged. "Every fucking thing that is wrong with my life is all because of you."
"Why the hell are you blaming me for your shit?!" Micky yelled, incredulous. "I didn't ask you to cheat on Phyllis, I didn't ask you to get another woman pregnant, I didn't ask you to push away anyone who gives a shit about you, and I sure as hell didn't ask you to kiss me! What the fuck is the matter with you?"
"You !" Mike said, grabbing hold of his head like he wanted to tear his hair out. "It's all because of you."
Micky tried to comprehend what Mike was saying. He stared at him, his own expression softening slightly. His heart was pounding in his chest, and his mind was reeling.
"How am I supposed to understand anything if you don't talk to me?" Micky asked, softer this time.
Mike stared at the floor, and it looked for a second like he was going to give in.
Micky watched Mike, hoping that he was going to open up and explain exactly what he meant. Micky had never been more confused, and he was scared too. As angry as he was, he started to soften. He cared so deeply about Mike, and he could see that Mike was in turmoil.
Micky approached Mike, reaching his hand out to gently touch him on the arm.
"Talk to me." Micky said softly.
Mike shrugged him off, shocking Micky. He squared up to Micky, looking him straight in the eye. "Fuck you."
Mike pushed past Micky, and Micky saw red. He grabbed Mike, much the same way Mike had grabbed Johnny earlier, and he shoved Mike against the wall - the same wall where they shared their first kiss.
"No!" Micky shouted in Mike's face. "I'm not going to let you do this to me! You're fucking with my head, you're freaking me out, you're treating me like I'm a piece of fucking shit! What did I ever do to you, huh? What did I ever do apart from try to be your fucking friend? And then you use me, you screw around with me, you let me suck your fucking dick, and then you make out it's some fucked-up game! And you know why I did all that shit, Mike? Do you?! Because for some reason I fucking care about you. I-I care about you, and you're...you're hurting me."
Mike stared at Micky. Mike's face turned from hard and cold into sad and guilty. His eyes furrowed, and he looked at Micky as if he had the heaviest heart in the world. Micky looked like he wanted to cry, and it killed Mike to see Micky in such despair and know he was the cause of it.
Mike took hold of Micky's hands that were holding on to his shirt, and Micky released Mike from his grasp. Mike looked down at Micky's hands, holding them in his own.
"I don't want to hurt you." Mike whispered, still holding Micky's hands.
"But you are." Micky choked.
Mike shook his head slowly, still not looking at Micky's face.
"Why did you defend me?" Micky's voice was shaking.
Mike's eyes moved from Micky's hands, up to his face. "Don't you get it, boy?"
Micky looked at Mike blankly, wonder filling his almond shaped eyes.
"Because I wanted to protect you." Mike replied, his eyes looking so sure and certain, as if he was trying to tell Micky something with his eyes alone. "I want to protect you."
Micky was confused, not sure he quite understood exactly what Mike meant. "From what?"
Mike dropped his gaze, and he looked down sadly.
Micky finally realised. The penny finally dropped. "From you?"
Mike was silent, his head hung to the floor.
"Mike..?" Micky whispered softly.
Mike held his gaze at the floor, before finally looking up. "We can't do this." He said regretfully.
"Why?" Micky choked, his voice almost squeaking.
Mike let go of Micky's hands, and he gently moved away from him.
"I...I don't understand." Micky scratched his head, his mind racing at a hundred miles per hour.
"Yes you do." Mike said, his voice sounding strong again. "You know exactly what I mean."
"Why don't we sit down and talk about things properly?" Micky asked, feeling now was the time to finally get things straight.
"There ain't nothing to say." Mike replied, realising he needed to toughen up. "This conversation is over."
"No, you can't just do that. You can't just say all that, talk in riddles, and expect me to just forget about it." Micky approached Mike. "We can talk about things."
"Micky, I said no." Mike said harshly. "There ain't nothing to talk about. We have been through this before, dammit. Everythin' that happened was a mistake. You're just a friend and someone I work with. You need to get over whatever is going on in your head, because I'm over it. I'm over all of this."
Micky felt more confused than ever. "But...but all that stuff, about wanting to protect me. You... I don't understand."
"There ain't nothing to understand, Micky. You don't have to worry about anythin' anymore. First thing in the mornin' I'm gonna start looking for somewhere else to stay until my house is finished."
Micky was shocked. "Why are you doing this?"
"Quit being so pathetic, Micky." Mike snapped. "We'll be happy to see the back of each other."
"You're such a fucking dick." Micky spat, feeling angry and upset. "You're crazy."
"Then you'll be happy to have me gone then, won't you?" Mike said bitterly, and he walked out.
Micky stood there perplexed. He couldn't understand why Mike was constantly blowing hot and cold. The way Mike looked at Micky sometimes warmed Micky's heart. But then Mike's words could be so cruel and harsh. Mike made Micky feel incredibly small, but sometimes he could also make Micky feel special.
Micky tried to process things. He poured himself the glass of water he craved and sat in the kitchen for a while trying to work out his next move. Maybe Mike was right - maybe him moving out really would be for the best. But then what? Would they both be able to meet up as pals and act like everything was fine and normal? Micky couldn't help feeling that if he let Mike leave now, that would be it.
Mike sat on his bed. He was horrified about how the night's events had unfolded - this wasn't what he planned at all. He felt like he was losing control of the situation, and he didn't like it. He hated hurting Micky even more, but he felt there was no other way.
Mike was surprised to see his bedroom door open, and in walked Micky. Mike's heart sunk when he saw Micky - he didn't feel like he had the strength for another argument, or to deal with Micky pleading with him or trying to reason with him.
But Micky seemed to have renewed energy, and he looked sure. Smug, almost, and he stood there with his arms folded.
"You know, I didn't have you pegged as a coward." Micky begun casually, and Mike was surprised - that's not exactly what he expected Micky to say. "Always running away when things get tough. You make out I'm the pussy, but at least I'm not afraid to talk about my feelings. But you, you just run away. You can't handle it. You think you can just act all mean and moody and you'll get your own way, instead of dealing with the real issue."
Mike was shocked and insulted, and he stood up, staring at Micky.
"The whole tough guy act is getting old. You think you can call all the shots, but you're really just a sissy. You're a control freak, and you think you're in control now - but you're not."
Micky was smug, trying to play Mike at his own game.
"Is that right?" Mike asked. Micky could tell by his face that he was angry.
"You're not in control at all. You certainly weren't in control last night when I was sucking your dick." Micky said arrogantly, walking right up to Mike. "I bet you hated that, me making you moan. Me making you come like that. And that's why you're being an asshole now, because you think that's going to put me off. But actually, I find the whole smouldering hard guy routine kind of a turn on."
"Shut up." Mike said, his tone low and angry.
"Why? Because the truth hurts?" Micky smiled sarcastically. "Or because you don't think you'll be able to control yourself with me again?"
Mike looked mortified. "I mean it. Stop."
"It's not nice, is it?" Micky questioned. "Being played at your own game."
"I ain't playing games."
"What do you call it then?" Micky confronted. "Blowing hot and cold, making out you care one minute and then trying to hurt me the next."
Mike remained silent, and he just stared at Micky.
"It's okay to be scared, you know." Micky said, unable to keep up the prize-bitch act any longer. "I'm scared too."
"I ain't scared." Mike's gaze faltered.
"You're a liar." Micky breathed.
Mike looked up. "Why are you doing this to me?"
"I'm trying to help you, I know you seem to think I'm the problem but we're in this together." Micky assured him.
"We ain't in anything together."
"Yes we are. We have done stuff...we've done physical stuff. I've never done anything like this with any other man before, and I'm pretty sure you haven't either."
"Of course I haven't."
"Then why don't we help each other?" Micky asked. "I'm scared, I'm confused...I have no idea what I'm doing. I have no idea what's going on, but you...you're just making things even more complicated."
Mike closed his eyes, and he sighed deeply. He looked emotionally drained. "I'm tired...I can't do this." He said wearily.
Micky nodded his head slowly, feeling he might've pushed Mike enough for one night. "Okay." He sighed. "I'm tired too."
Mike rubbed his brow, and he looked a mess. He was already dressed for bed in pyjama pants and a t-shirt, and he walked around the side of the bed.
"Will you close the door on the way out?" Mike asked Micky.
Micky nodded. Mike climbed into bed, and Micky went towards the door. Micky closed the door, only he remained inside the room. He then walked back towards the bed. It took Mike a moment to register that Micky hadn't left.
"What are you doing?" Mike asked as Micky unbuttoned his pants.
Micky slipped out of his jeans, tossing them onto the couch, and he walked around the other side of the bed. "I'm going to bed."
Mike was stunned when Micky pulled back the covers and climbed in bed next to him.
"What about your own bed?" Mike questioned, confused and unsettled by Micky's actions.
Micky turned off the lamp and laid down next to Mike. Micky looked at Mike through the darkness.
"I want to stay with you." Micky replied softly.
"Why?" Mike asked, uneasy. He was too tired and drained to protest too much.
"Because you're sad and I don't want to leave you on your own." Micky answered gently, his voice soft and calm.
Mike's heart fluttered, and suddenly the feelings of nervousness seemed to evaporate. Mike felt hideously guilty for his treatment of Micky, and he couldn't believe that Micky still wanted to be anywhere near him.
"Oh..." Mike responded, having no clue what to say next.
Mike moved from his half sitting position, sliding himself down the bed so he was laying flat on his back with his arms folded defensively across his chest. Micky laid on his side next to him, still looking at Mike through the darkness. Mike was still a little uncertain having Micky with him, and he battled inwardly with himself. He knew it was wrong - this erased all the work he'd been trying to do since last night. His attempts at pushing Micky away seemed to be failing miserably, and he kicked himself for not shouting at Micky, for not telling him to get the hell out of his bed and out of his room. But Mike couldn't do that. Once again he was powerless. Micky was right; Mike wasn't in control at all.
But for all the demons inside of Mike, and all the voices screaming at him inside his head, Mike felt strangely comforted having Micky beside him. And then Micky rolled over, facing away from Mike, and settled down for sleep. Mike glanced over at him, and he was aware Micky was still trying to give him space even though they were in the same bed together.
Mike remained lying on his back, his eyes becoming accustomed to the darkness. He stared at the ceiling, wondering how on earth he got himself into this mess.
"Mike?" Micky whispered after a few minutes silence.
"Mm?"
"I'm sorry." Micky whispered, still facing away from Mike.
Mike was puzzled. "What for?" He asked softly, turning to look at the back of Micky's head.
"For being a dick." Micky replied quietly. "I was only trying to get back at you."
Mike sighed, looking to the ceiling again and closing his eyes. "I'm sorry too." He whispered.
Micky smiled to himself, pulling the covers up and getting himself comfortable. His eyes suddenly felt incredibly heavy, and within a few minutes he drifted off to sleep.
Mike remained lying on his back, and the room seemed deadly silent until the sound of Micky's steady breathing seemed to fill the air. Mike glanced across at Micky again, and it was apparent he'd fallen fast asleep. Mike could hardly believe that Micky was able to switch off so quickly, especially after the tension and all the things they'd said to each other.
Mike wasn't able to switch off so easily though. Mike envied Micky. He didn't know exactly what was going on in Micky's head, but from the way Micky spoke, it seemed to be a simpler place than Mike's crowded mind. Mike kept thinking about Micky's words, Micky saying that he cared about him. Micky wanting to talk about things. Micky sleeping in the same bed as him despite Mike's horrible behaviour.
Mike couldn't understand it. It seemed that Micky had feelings for Mike. Genuine, real feelings. That thought was so hard for Mike to get his head around. Maybe Micky just felt sorry for him, Mike wondered. What would somebody like Micky ever see in someone like him?
A short time later, Micky stirred, and he rolled over. He was fast asleep, but he was trying to get himself comfortable. Micky shuffled closer to Mike, and Mike instantly tensed up. Micky then flopped right over, half on to his stomach, and in turn rolling even closer to Mike. As Micky did so, he draped his arm across Mike's chest.
Mike stiffened. Micky was incredibly close to him now. Micky seemed to settle, finding his place of comfort, and he drifted off into heavy sleep. Micky's body was pressed up against Mike, and Mike could see Micky's sleeping face perfectly. Mike glanced down at Micky's arm that was lying across his chest.
Mike felt uneasy. Although they had shared several intimate moments now, they had never slept together. Being next to each other, sleeping, seemed like a huge step. Micky was so vulnerable next to Mike, sleeping perfectly. Mike couldn't help but watch him, and Micky seemed at perfect peace.
Micky was sound asleep now, breathing heavily. He was so close to Mike that Mike could feel Micky's breath hit his shoulder. It all seemed to become so peaceful and quiet. It was soothing. It was almost as if the outside world disappeared. Mike wondered what it'd be like if outside didn't matter, if it was just him and Micky. What would happen then? What would happen without the outside world looking down on them, frowning upon them?
Mike watched Micky. Micky looked so beautiful when he slept, and Mike felt strangely honoured that he got to witness this sight first-hand. Mike then hesitantly lifted his arm, and he cautiously and carefully wrapped it around the curly haired man. Micky stirred at the contact, and Mike's heart started to race, fearing he'd woken Micky. But Micky only shuffled even closer to Mike, and Micky sort of moulded himself into the Texan.
Mike could've sworn he saw a small smile press against Micky's lips, but maybe he imagined it. Mike felt his body relax at the contact with Micky, and he gently tightened his hold on the younger man. Mike suddenly felt a contentment he hadn't felt in months. Actually, Mike couldn't recall feeling this content before. Mike gained confidence, and he turned on his side slightly, and ended up wrapping both his arms around Micky's slim frame, enveloping him in an enormous hug. It wasn't long before he too drifted off to sleep.