The next morning, Micky made toast and eggs, serving them to Mike and himself in bed. Why exactly he did this was a little beyond Micky. It just felt right, like something he should do. Plus, it was honestly born out of the selfish want for toast and eggs. Davy wouldn't be home for another hour or so, giving them both time to have a good breakfast. They ate in silence, both of them taking a moment to really enjoy their meal, and then talked about nothing in particular after the food was gone. Micky had to admit that it felt very good to be so comfortable with Mike. Even though Micky hated that Peter had gotten AIDS, there were some benefits to it, this being one of them of course. Micky was very proud of how far Mike had come out of the closet. He soaked up the morning, enjoying every moment of it. But there was a sort of misty black cloud that Micky felt hung low over everything. This moment should have been a perfectly fine, wonderful moment, yet there was the constant present melancholy, albeit in the background. It hovered just above his shoulders, waiting for the ripe opportunity to come along and pounce on Micky.
Eventually, Micky and Mike went downstairs. There were things to do and their day eventually had to start properly. Mike cleaned up the dishes from breakfast in bed and Micky double checked that Davy's overnight back was all packed. He'd only be gone three days so there wasn't much he had needed to pack. But it felt as if he was leaving for a whole month, opening up a void within Micky that he wasn't entirely sure how to feel about. All of Davy's things were neatly packed and Micky brought the bag out into the living room area of the pad. Micky wandered over towards the television, wondering if anything on was any good, but then the phone rang. He glanced over towards the kitchen and watched as Mike picked it up from its cradle.
"Hello?" the lanky guitarist answered.
Micky observed Mike's face, trying to deduce who was on the phone. Was it Davy? Or Dr. Cole? Had something happened to Peter? Who the hell was calling them? He felt his insides tighten as he readied himself for bad news. It had to be bad news. But Mike's face didn't seem distressed. In fact, he didn't look anywhere near distressed or upset. Instead, his facial features were pulled into an expression of interest and puzzlement. Almost as if the person on the other end of the line was telling Mike a particularly hard riddle or something.
"Oh, hi Donny," Mike said.
At the mention of a name, Micky relaxed. Donny was one of his and Peter's friends. Davy had dated Donny for a while, a few years back, but Davy had broken it off after Donny had given Davy gonorrhea. There was never any real bad blood between the two though. They remained rather good friends and hung out quite often.
"Um, yeah, Micky's here," Mike glanced over towrds Micky, motioning for him to come over to the phone. "Hold on a sec, I'll get him."
Confused, Micky went over and took the phone from Mike, wondering why exactly Donny would be calling them. Mike stood close by, so that he could overhear the conversation, at least a little bit. Micky brought the phone up to his ear.
"Hello?" he said.
"Hi, Micky," Donny sounded cheerful, as per usual.
"Donny, how are you?" Micky asked.
"Oh, just fabulous darling, even though it seems like the whole world is ending," Donny replied with a little laugh.
Donny didn't have AIDS and he wasn't yet positive, but like most guys a lot of his friends were dying or dead. He had always been a very political guy, even before, and so these days he organized a lot of protests and stuff. There was always something that Donny was up to.
"Well that's good to hear," Micky said.
"How are you? How is Peter?" Donny asked after a moment.
"I'm alright, hanging in there," Micky answered, "And Peter's doing just fine. He'll be out of the hospital soon."
"Good, that's fantastic," Donny declared.
The smile could be heard in his voice, a smile composed of a mixture of sadness and pleasant surprise. Or maybe not surprise, Micky wasn't sure. Micky wondered if this was simply just a social call. It didn't really matter either way, Micky reminded himself. The more cheerful tinge to Donny's voice made Micky smile. He could picture the toothy grin that Donny probably had plastered upon his face.
"Yeah, 'suppose it is," Micky agreed.
Mike kept giving Micky weird looks and Micky waved a hand at the Texan. If Mike was so eager to know what Donny was saying, he should have just kept the phone himself. The last thing he needed was Mike on his ass about what was going on.
"Look, Micky, I was wondering if you wouldn't mind coming down to the center. I'm holding a meeting about what it's like to have a partner with AIDS, just so people have a place to vent. It's been pretty popular and I thought you could come down and talk about your experience, since it's so unique to have one partner have AIDS while the other isn't even positive," Donny said.
"Oh," Micky was taken aback by Donny's request.
There was a beat of silence. Micky wasn't sure if Donny was finished speaking or not. Mike was still giving Micky weird looks, still wanting to know what was going on.
"Plus," Donny added, "I thought maybe you could use a good vent. I haven't seen you or Davy around recently. I know it must be tough on you guys."
The word unique echoed in Micky's head, leaving a sickening aftertaste in his mouth. Rarity meant the possibility that it would all come crashing down. That it should come crashing down sooner or later. That it wasn't possible. Being unique simply indicated that it was only a matter of time.
"Well, you don't have to speak, if you don't want to. Vince will be talking about how he lost Benny. And Francis was supposed to come, but he canceled last minute," Donny's voice dropped into a conspiratorial whisper, "I don't think his partner's doing very well. He was diagnosed all the way back in the beginning. It's a miracle he lasted even this long. I'll bet we'll be attending a funeral soon."
Vince and Benny were an older couple, the two guys that had really brought Micky's and Davy's friend groups into one larger network. Benny had been Peter's friend first and Davy had befriended Vince through a mutual lover. They'd been together for twenty-five years and before Peter had gotten his own diagnosis, he'd often help Vince out with taking care of Benny. Now it was another friend, Thomas if Micky were remembering correctly. At the mention of Benny dying, Micky felt his stomach tighten and he felt the beginnings of a headache. The look Mike was giving still him made Micky feel as if he were bathed in the light of a spotlight, as if he were on some sort of stage. Why exactly he felt like this was beyond his grasp.
"No, no I'll speak," Micky immediately replied as soon as Donny stopped speaking.
He didn't want Donny to think that Micky wasn't ready to speak about everything. Why, he wasn't entirely sure. Why did he feel the need to almost prove himself to Donny? Mike arched an eyebrow, mouthing the words 'what's going on?'. Again, Micky waved his hand at Mike, brushing off his question.
"Great!" Donny exclaimed.
Micky could hear the smile in Donny's voice again.
"Um, is it alright if I bring Mike?" Micky quickly added, praying that Donny wouldn't hang up immediately, lest he not hear Micky's question.
"Of course. You could even bring Davy. Bring anyone you want! It's open to the public. It starts at three this afternoon, there's usually only a handful of people attending," Donny answered.
"Alright, see you then," Micky said goodbye and hung up the phone.
"What happened?" Mike demanded as soon as he possibly could.
He seemed a little peeved that Micky had just avoided his unspoken questions.
"Donny's holding some sort of meeting about or for partners with AIDS. He wants me to speak about what it's been like with Peter," Micky explained, "Do you want to come with me? It's at three."
Mike's brows were slightly creased and he looked as if he were deep in thought. Micky wondered if he even truly wanted Mike to come with him. Maybe this was something he should do on his own? But Mike had every right to speak. Peter was not just Micky's. A cynical voice in the back of Micky's head reminded him that lack of monogamy was what got Peter into the mess he was in now. There was a twinge of almost jealous in his heart. But it was quickly soothed over with the reminder that Mike might have also been Peter's lover, but so was Micky.
"I suppose I could," Mike eventually shrugged, almost hesitantly.
"Well you have a little bit to think about it, if you change your mind," Micky said, unsure if Mike would rather have the option to come.
Mike nodded and they seemed to lapse into a silence that Micky felt uncomfortable in. But it didn't last for too long. As if cued by some unseen force, Davy entered the pad. Micky's face lit up. He was a wonderful sight.
"I have your bag on the couch, all ready to go," Micky bounded over to the smaller man.
"Oh," Davy glanced over at the couch and then smiled at Micky, "Thanks, mate."
There was something about the way Davy was holding himself that made Micky feel a little weird, on the inside. He couldn't exactly place what the feeling was, whether it was a good weird or a bad weird. Was it even a weird feeling at all? Micky wasn't sure. But something was there, some sort of vague emotion just out of Micky's grasp of understanding. The singer had dark rings under his eyes, but there was still a sparkle to those coffee colored eyes of his. His shoulders were slightly hunched, but it still looked as if he were holding himself up straight. Micky felt a pang of something, a different emotion now that was equally out of grasp as the first.
"It's no problem," Micky beamed, feeling uncertain.
"How's Peter?" Mike asked from the kitchen.
He hadn't moved yet. A flash of something crossed Davy's face, disappearing like a shadow in the dark. It looked almost as if Davy were trying to hide something but Micky wasn't entirely sure.
"He's alright. He was asleep for most of the night and this morning," Davy replied as he picked up his bag from off the couch, slinging it over his shoulder.
"And you?" Mike continued.
"I'm okay," Davy admitted, "A little tired, but I'm eager to get on the plane."
"Do you have time for a shower or some breakfast?" Mike wondered.
"I don't think so," Davy answered, "I don't want to miss my flight. It'd be best to just get going."
"Oh, well I wouldn't want you to miss your flight either," Mike agreed.
Micky heard him moving, felt him come closer, watched as Mike pulled Davy into a hug. The black cloud, pregnant with mixed emotions, lurked inside of Micky. He watched as Davy rose onto the balls of his feet, standing on tiptoe in order to press his lips against Mike's, and even then Mike had to lean down a little. Had Micky not suddenly been in a slightly sour mood, he might have found it humorous. It was ridiculous, this sudden change of mood, and Micky knew it. He chastised himself for being like this.
"I'll miss you while you're gone," Mike admitted as the two men parted.
"I'm not going to be gone long," Davy reminded him.
The headache that Micky had felt coming on was now slowly beginning to pound away at his skull, like a construction worker starting their job. Davy brushed his hand against Mike's arm. They said goodbye and Davy turned towards Micky, looking at him expectantly.
"You ready?" he asked.
It seemed it was time for Micky to drive Davy to the airport.
"Yeah," Micky nodded and turned to Mike, embracing him with a hug, "I'll see you later."
Mike flashed Micky a bright smile and leaned forward, pecking him on the cheek. Davy exchanged a similar last goodbye with Mike before the two men walked out of the pad. Davy clambered into the passenger's side, his carry-on luggage sitting snugly in his lap. Micky took his seat in the driver's side. They pulled out of the driveway and sped towards the airport. There was a comfortable enough silence within the cab of the car, yet in the pit of his stomach Micky was anticipating something to happen. Somehow he knew that there was something that Davy needed to get off his chest before he left the country.
"You think he'll be alright while I'm gone, right?" Davy wondered, almost to himself, after a moment.
Micky didn't have to ask who Davy was referring to. And Micky believed that he already understood where Davy was coming from. Davy leaving marked the first time that they'd really be split up. During December, when Mike and Peter had visited Peter's family, it had been different. In some way, they had still been together, just split up into pairs. But this time, it was just Davy, going off alone all the way to England. All the way across the world, it seemed. Micky stole a quick glance of Davy before returning his gaze back to the road.
"Peter'll be a-okay, Davy, don't you worry," Micky reassured his smaller friend.
Micky saw Davy turn his head towards the window out of the corner of his eye. Had something gone wrong at the hospital? Micky felt as if there was something Davy was hiding and it was slowly driving Micky crazy, his headache only making things worse. A chilling thought then occurred to him. He and Mike were getting their tests done tomorrow, but Davy had had his done yesterday. Maybe he had been told that he was positive. What would that mean then, if Davy were positive? What would they do?
"Davy," Micky began, unsure of how to broach the topic and feeling oddly heavy, as if his body were suddenly made out of lead. "Your tests results, they didn't come back positive, did they?"
"No, of course not," Davy almost spat his words out.
The horror in his voice gave Micky pause. He glanced at Davy, needing the reassurance that he was alright. Davy's cheeks were flushed and he was staring down at his luggage. Was he angry? This was not at all the sort of reaction Micky had anticipated from Davy.
"Sorry," Davy mumbled, almost immediately. "No, my results were negative."
Micky let out a puff of air, relieved that it wasn't Davy's tests results that were bothering him. So that left the question of what was on Davy's mind? Micky knew there was something weighing on the man. Why else would he have lashed out like that?
"It's alright," Micky nodded his head, "I'm glad your negative."
Was that the right thing to say? Micky hoped that Davy would share with him his troubles on his own, without Micky having to directly ask him. It'd make him feel less weird. It was weird to try to pry, stick his nose in things that might not necessarily want his nose.
"Me, too," Davy agreed, then lapsed into silence.
For a little bit, Micky just drove, allowing them to sit in the lull of conversation. He wanted to know what was up with Davy but, at the same time, he didn't want to push anything. He didn't want his nose in Davy's business if Davy didn't want it there. Davy had, after all, just lost his grandfather. A lot of emotions were probably balled up inside of the small man and Micky didn't want Davy to feel any sort of added pressure on top of that.
"I'm just…," Davy began but his voice sounded small, far away.
Micky felt as if he wanted to put words into Davy's mouth, but he held his tongue. He waited for Davy to find the right words on his own.
"Fuck," Davy sharply inhaled, "Micky, fuck, I just don't… I don't know if I can take all of this anymore."
"What are you talking about?" Micky couldn't help but blurt out.
He was taken aback. What was Davy saying? Did he want to leave Peter? Leave Mike and Micky? An almost overwhelming sense of panic threatened to drown Micky but he kept his eyes firmly fixed on the road, tethering him to reality. Whatever Davy was talking about, whatever Davy was trying to decide, Micky would support him.
"I don't know," Davy's voice cracked, "I hate seeing Peter like this. I hate feeling so useless. I feel like I'm abandoning him. I…. It's not him I hate though. It's this fucking shit. AIDS. Or fate. Or-or… I don't know."
Micky could tell that Davy was crying. His shoulders were shaking slightly. Micky wanted to lean over and pull Davy into a hug. But that was impossible. He was driving.
"It'll be alright, Davy," Micky tried to reassure his friend.
It was the next best thing to a hug. Micky hoped it was like a verbal hug.
"It's easy to say that," Davy sniffled, "He thinks we're wasting our time on him."
Micky felt his chest tighten, a nearly blinding panic taking a hold of his body. Stay focused, he told himself. Stay focused, you're driving.
"Peter thinks that?" Micky echoed, almost in disbelief.
"He told me he doesn't want us watching him waste away. He wants us to get on with our lives before he's even dead," Davy sounded so very sad, so very broken.
Micky wanted to reach out to him, pull him into a hug and take away all of it. Why couldn't he give Davy a hug? He was driving. God, why couldn't he take it all away? Davy didn't deserve this, none of them did.
"Well…," Micky didn't know what to say, but he had to say something. "We aren't wasting our time. We love each other. We'll get through this."
Davy didn't say anything to that. Micky risked a glance at the smaller man. He was staring straight ahead now. He looked like a child, sitting in the front seat for the first time. He looked so small, so vulnerable. Again, Micky had the urge to embrace him.
"My grandda always liked you three," Davy said, quietly and slowly, after a moment, "Whenever I called him, he'd ask about you guys. He'd ask how are those boys. And I'd reply with they're alright."
Davy paused, leaving a moment for Micky to respond. But Micky didn't know what to say. Was there anything he could say, even if he wanted to? So Micky didn't say anything, even though he felt like he should have.
"I told him about Peter," Davy continued, "I said, grandda my friend Peter has AIDS. He knew it was the gay disease. He asked me if I had it, too. I said no. He cried. He said he was very sorry about Peter. And that he was very proud of me. I might have never told him about me, but I think he figured it out, one way or another."
"But he never asked," Micky pointed out.
He felt useless. It stung like a thorn in his side.
"No. He wasn't the sort of man who'd stir the pot. I love my grandfather. And I'm so very sad that he's gone," Davy murmured, smiling as he dried his cheeks.
"I'm sorry, Davy," Micky mumbled, unsure of what else he could say.
"It's alright, Micky," Davy laughed a little at himself, "Thanks for just letting me talk."
"I'd do anything for you," Micky nodded.
Mike ate an early lunch consisting of a ham and cheese sandwich. Then he had tidied up a bit, just sweeping a little and making sure all the dirty dishes were cleaned. Then he picked up the newspaper. With the pad empty, Mike found it increasingly necessary to keep himself occupied. The threat of his thoughts consuming him became a real danger in the seemingly tangible emptiness. By the time Micky finally came home, Mike had finished reading the paper and had moved on to a book that he was pretty sure had never been opened up until that point.
"How'd it go?" Mike asked, feeling a little stupid as soon as he asked such a weird question.
Who asked that kind of question? A right weirdo, that's who.
"Davy got onto the plane alright," Micky replied, flopping down onto the couch, sitting down right next to Mike.
"What are you reading?" Micky asked as soon as he spied the book.
He was peering over, trying to deduce what he was reading. Mike looked at the front cover. It was just blank and beige.
"I don't know," Mike admitted.
The laughter rumbled from inside of Micky's chest, tumbling out in a genuine manner that made Mike smile. He laughed too, only a little. Micky rested his head on Mike's shoulder.
"You want to come with me to Donny's thing?" Micky asked after a moment.
Mike tossed the book onto the coffee table nearby. He watched it land with an almost satisfying thud.
"Sure, it's not like I have anything else to do," Mike answered.
"I'm going to go change then," Micky said as he stood up, arms reaching upwards towards the ceiling as he stretched out his limbs, "It's almost two. We can stop by the post office to mail the bills. And then after Donny's thing, we can go visit Peter."
"Alright," Mike nodded, watching as Micky made his way up the spiral staircase towards his bedroom.
Itching to get out of the house, Mike collected the few bills they had to mail and wandered out to the back porch that overlooked the beach. A cool breeze was drifting off the water and the sun was shining. Perfect surfing weather, as Peter had always put it, even though Mike doubted anyone would want to go surfing in these temperatures. It occurred to Mike then that the comment from his lover didn't really make sense. Peter didn't even know how to surf. Nevertheless, he made a mental note to tell Peter what the weather was like outside. A hollow feeling echoed inside of Mike, trying to grip the guitarist's heart. But before it could, Mike heard Micky hollering at him from inside the pad.
"C'mon, Mike. I'll be in the car!"
The post office was in the opposite direction of the Los Angeles Gay and Lesbian Center but Mike and Micky found themselves still arriving early, at around 2:40 PM. Donny, forty-two years old and black hair combed over to hide a growing balding spot, was setting up chairs in a circle, off in one of the side rooms of the center. A lanky black woman was helping him.
"Need some more hands?" Micky asked as they entered the room.
Donny turned his head, his face breaking out into a broad grin as soon as he saw Micky and Mike.
"You guys made it!" he exclaimed, then motioned towards a few folded up chairs that were leaning against a nearby wall, "If you wouldn't mind setting those ones up, Cherry and I can go get the folding table for refreshments."
Micky nodded and Mike followed close behind him, eager to help out. He grabbed a chair and, with Micky's help, finished setting up the circle. As Donny and Cherry finished up the last touches on the small refreshment table, a few people began to shuffle in. Mike didn't recognize any of them but Micky greeted a few by name. There was a curly haired short man with thick glasses named Tommy. And then there was Nick, a thinning black man who Mike had met once at a holiday party ages ago. Mike vaguely remembered overhearing Davy tell Micky that Nick had gotten AIDS, but how long ago that had been was a mystery to Mike. There was Barney, Jose, Julian, Carl, Francis. And a few other people that Micky did not seem to know. Donny greeted each and everyone who entered the room. Mike watched in amazement as he greeted every man by their first name. How did he know all those people? Eventually, after grabbing a cup of juice or water and all the greetings had been exchanged, everyone took a seat in the circle. Mike and Micky sat close to Donny.
"Good afternoon, everyone," Donny began, looking around the circle with a smile that crinkled his face, "I'm glad to see such a good turnout for today's meeting. Today we'll be focusing on partners with AIDS and how the whole experience has been for each of you. We have a few specific speakers, but if anyone wants to say anything, just raise your hand. Everyone will have a chance to speak if they want to."
The first to speak was a man named Vince. He was quite old, although how old Mike couldn't exactly tell. Vince recalled the life he shared with his life partner, Benny Hosier, and discussed what it was like to have been diagnosed in the very beginning. Mike sat listening, a cold fear gripping him. How had these two men managed to take care of one another when they both were dying? It baffled and frightened Mike. He almost had the urge to get up and leave, but he didn't. He sat, motionless, listening to Vince. The next person was a man named Henry. He talked about how he had left his semi-permanent life partner in the middle of the night after his diagnosis. Only a month later, Henry had been diagnosed. The man professed his regret for his past actions, yet despite this Mike found himself appalled by even the thought of leaving someone like that. Without even a goodbye or an explanation. How cold hearted did that guy have to be?
Two other men went before Micky, one of which was a timid young looking man who had raised his hand. Everyone listened patiently and attentively to each of them, some of the men even cried. Mike found tears stinging his own eyes. After a while Mike began to feel out of place. He didn't have a right to be here. It was an irrational thought but Mike couldn't help but wonder why he was here. Only recently had he come to terms with his sexuality while these men sitting before him most likely had grappled with that demon years ago. Then Micky's turn came. Mike watched out of the corner of his eye as Micky shifted himself in his seat, hands hovering over his lap as if he didn't know where to put them or what to do with them.
"Um, hi," Micky began, smiling thinly at the group, "I'm Micky. My partner's name is Peter and it's been a few months since his diagnosis. I'm negative, but I get tested regularly. It's been-"
Micky's voice cracked a little and he paused to clear his throat. Mike rubbed his hand against his jeans, wondering if Micky would back out and decide not to speak. Mike would certainly not blame him.
"Sorry," Micky absentmindedly scratched at his chin, "It's been rough. The medicine seems to make things worse for Peter and his parents are just causing him more stress then he needs. Not to mention the stress I've had, along with our other two partners. Peter'll be out of hospital soon, so we're going to take a short trip. I think it will be nice but I'm worried it'll make things worse. Long term or short term, I'm not sure."
"I know what you mean," a curly haired man spoke up, "My friend, John, and I took a trip to Rome, and while there he got sick. I thought to myself, wow if only we hadn't come, maybe he'd never have gotten sick."
"It's better to take risks at this point. It's not like there's a lot to lose," another man countered.
"Bullshit," a man in the back swore.
Mike heard the anger in that man's voice and once again wondered what he was doing here. That man could have very well lost a loved one or was in the process of losing one. Mike felt like a lair. A fraud. But he kept reminding himself that even though he felt like that, it wasn't true. He was gay. Peter, his partner, was sick.
"Alright, alright," Donny spoke up, "We can have a free discussion, guys, but we have to keep it civil. Everyone reacts to this sort of stuff in different ways."
Donny asked Micky if he had anything else to add.
"I don't think so. Just that it's hard," Micky shrugged, slumping down into his seat a little.
Mike caught Micky's gaze and flashed him a brief smile. Micky offered Mike a small smile in return. Another man began to speak but Mike couldn't pay attention. He looked at Vince, the older man staring at his hands. Then towards Henry. Mike noticed that he was crying. Then the man with partner named John. Then finally back towards Micky. The man who was speaking stopped. There was a lull.
"Can I speak?" Mike blurted out, without really thinking.
Micky arched an eyebrow at Mike, questioning him without having to say a single word. Donny nodded his head. Mike felt his heart beat rapidly inside of his chest. What was he doing?
"Um… well I'm Mike. I'm… Peter's partner. Well… okay one of his partners, obviously. But. Anyways," Mike wasn't sure what he was doing and he felt his palms begin to sweat as he realized that everyone was looking at him, "I just wanted to say that-that, like Micky said, these past few months have been rough. I might be negative but I can't help but feel like that won't last long. But it doesn't matter. Even though I wish none of this was happening, to anyone, there's a part of me that's glad it happened. Because I wouldn't be able to say that I love Peter out loud. And I hate that part of me."
There was a slight shake to his voice, a clamminess to his palms. Why was everyone looking at him? He felt foolish and horribly naive. What on earth had possessed him to speak? He felt Micky's hand brush against his.
"I know how you feel," a blonde haired man spoke up, purple lesions hiding underneath the collar of his shirt, "I wouldn't wish this upon anyone but being diagnosed gave me the strength to come out to my mom. I always thought she'd be upset with me, but when I told her, all she did was cry and tell me she loved me. She's been… she's been with me this whole time."
Mike slipped his hand into Micky's, squeezing gently. He smiled at the blonde, who briefly smiled back. Donny thanked Mike for sharing and then another man began to speak. Three others went after him, taking up around twenty more minutes. After the last one finished, the woman who had helped Donny set up, Cherry, thanked everyone for coming and reminded them that there was a support group meeting here every Sunday and that there were more meetings like this in the future, just check with the front desk for times. The room became a solemn buzz of conversation as people began to file out of the room. Mike stood up and Micky pulled him close.
"Hey, I'm really proud of you for speaking," Micky said, a dopey grin on his face.
God, why was he smiling like that? It wasn't a big deal. Mike felt heat rise in his cheeks and he looked away.
"Stop it, will ya. It ain't nothing to be proud of," Mike mumbled.
Micky punched him lightly on the shoulder.
"Come on, Mike, talking about that was a huge step for you," Micky insisted, "Don't try to act tough or something."
Although Mike agreed with what Micky was saying, he still didn't want to make a big deal about any of this. It wasn't brave to speak. Mike wasn't brave. Peter was the one who was brave.
"We should hurry up and get to the hospital. I want to see Peter," Mike said.
Micky gave him a quizzical look but nodded.
"Alright," Micky agreed.
As Micky said a quick goodbye to Donny and a few other guys, Mike went outside and clambered into the driver's side. He started up the car, rolled down the windows, and waited for Micky to come out. There was a slight thrill that Mike felt inside of him. Mike would be able to tell Peter all about what had happened today. It didn't matter what Peter really said, or even how he reacted. Mike knew that, deep down, all he wanted to do was prove in some way or another that Mike was truly there for Peter. In it for the long run. Just like Micky and Davy. All Mike truly wanted was to be one of the guys, his guys.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks for reading everyone! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. I have about three more chapters to write so we're nearing the homestretch. Again, I encourage anyone who wants to know the real story of the 1980s AIDS epidemic to do outside research, as I am only a high school student, not a historian or a medical doctor. Although I did shoot for as accurate as possible, I know that inaccuracies did occur (I didn't live through the 80s and I don't have a medical degree). Thank you again to everyone who reads this fic and anyone who leaves a review/favorite. I appreciate every view, review, and favorite so much! I hope you all have a wonderful day! 3