Mick wasn't really bothered where he ended up, just as long as he was away from Joe. He couldn't understand how Joe could go back to Sheila after what they'd done outside. When they first met, Mick had thought Joe was a decent guy, but now, almost a year later, he was starting to show his true colors.
Well, what did I expect?
He'd only been walking for a few seconds before he turned into a narrow alley next to a block of flats, sliding down the wall next to a dumpster and burying his head in his hands. He knew what he expected; he expected Joe to feel the same way and not go off with a hooker, but things rarely worked out how he'd like them to and this was just another one of those things. It hurt, though. After Mick saw how Joe could go from kissing him to kissing that damn hooker, he knew Joe didn't really care. He was a jerk and Mick hated him. No, he didn't. He loved him. He loved him a lot.
I wish I did hate him.
No, no I don't, I love him.
Fuck.
I love him.
I love Joe Strummer.
No, I fucking hate him.
I don't mean that, I really don't.
Ugh! No wonder he doesn't feel the same way. I'm a mess! I'm more hormonal than a teenage girl! Bloody hell!
Oh what am I doing wrong?
Everything. I am doing everything wrong,
FUCK!
He had been sat there quite a while when the wind started to pick up and tiny drops of rain started to fall. All he had on was a thin t-shirt and he was shivering a bit so he decided he would head home and deal with Joe in the morning. He was walking further into the alley (it was quicker than walking around) when a crunch behind him alerted him and he whipped around, staring blindly into the darkness. This far into the alley, it was damn near impossible to see, so when a hand brushed against his arm, he jumped. "Well if it ain't Mick Jones." A voice sounded from somewhere to his left. "'Ow you doin', Mick?"
Mick recognized that voice; it was the guy who'd caught him and Joe outside the pub.
Oh shit, he's gonna beat me up for bein' a fag, ain't he?
Mick couldn't see the guy until he shifted a bit and the light from the streetlight lit up the alley. It wasn't a very good light, but it was better than nothing, and now Mick could see the guy staring down at him, a kind of evil gleam in his eyes. "So 'ow's you an' Joe?" The guy smirked as if he knew what had gone on after.
Mick chose not to answer; instead, he turned away but only walked a couple of steps before the guy grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. "I saw what happened, y'know." He said. "He was with that chick an' you two 'ad a fight."
"What's it to you?" Mick muttered, trying to walk away again, but the guy's grip on his shoulder tightened and he suddenly found himself pressed up against the wall with the guy's hands running under his t-shirt and through his hair.
"Get off!" Mick spat, shoving him roughly away.
The guy smirked and pinned Mick's arms to the wall before kissing him. "Ugh, stop!" Mick cried, his voice muffled, but no matter how much he struggled, he couldn't break free of the guy's grip. "Get off me! Leave me alone!"
"You can do so much better than Joe." The guy purred breathlessly in Mick's ear. "Name's Jack, by the way."
He began running his hands lower until he slipped one of them into Mick's pants. Mick cried out, terrified, as he tried desperately to get Jack off of him. He'd heard stories of women being raped in the alleys around this part of London, but he never thought it could happen to a man, and now it was happening to him. Jack ignored his pleading and continued to touch him and kiss him until Mick managed to swing his leg up between Jack's legs. It didn't have the desired effect, it seemed to make him mad rather than hurt him, and he didn't have a chance to run before he found himself on the floor with Jack's foot slamming into his head. He whimpered pathetically, seeing stars while Jack stood over him, unbuckling his belt. "I know ya get off on bein' with other blokes, no use pretending ya don't." He growled. "Don't want people findin' out, now, do ya? So you're gonna gimme what I want in exchange for me not spreadin' any nasty rumors about you an' Strummer, alright?"
I don't care who finds out, anything but this! Oh God, make it stop!
He was hauled off of the floor and thrown against the wall again and Jack was pressing his erection into his ass. Jack kept one hand on Mick's back while he used his free hand to unzip his pants. Mick flung himself away from the wall, knocking Jack over as he did, and tried to run again. However, Jack was a lot faster than he was and he was soon tackled to the ground again, Jack on top of him, laughing gleefully. "I like 'em rough, I do." He said, turning Mick over onto his back and grinding his crotch against his. "In fact, I prefer 'em rough, means I ain't gotta go easy on 'em."
No, no, no, this isn't happening.
"Come on, ya know ya want it!"
No, make it stop, please make it stop, JUST STOP!
Mick was crying as Jack yanked his pants down and rolled him over on to his stomach again. A million things were going through his mind. He was desperately trying to block out what was happening, trying to convince himself it wasn't happening, he was fine, he was going to be fine. He wasn't sure how he did it, but he rolled back over onto his back and smacked Jack in the nose. It started bleeding and blood dripped all over Mick, going in his eyes and all over his face. He quickly pulled his pants up and kicked Jack in the stomach, attempting to give himself enough time to get away. Despite his vision blurred by tears, he managed to stumble back towards the street. He thought he'd made it, but just as he went to turn the corner, Jack was on him again and he couldn't do anything except kick and scream as he was dragged back into the alley. It was dark again and he couldn't see what was happening, but he was being punched in the face and kicked in the ribs and kneed in the stomach and it hurt so much.
Why can't anyone hear me? Why isn't anyone coming out?
His head was slammed down into the ground and he screamed and begged Jack to stop hitting him and just leave him alone. Another foot to the ribs, two knees to the stomach and a smack in the mouth later, he was pinned to the wall again, moaning and sobbing and repeating the same word over and over again. "Stop."
"Ain't gonna run off again, are ya?" Jack asked.
When Jack started to touch him again, Mick didn't have the strength to resist.
Just do what you want, I can't take it anymore, I just can't.
His throat burned from screaming, his eyes stung from crying, his whole body ached, but none of it compared to the pain he felt, both physical and mental, when Jack started pushing himself inside. He gasped in delight when he was fully inside and Mick struggled not to throw up.
What have I done to deserve this? What have I done wrong? Please, someone, anyone...
"OI! LEAVE HIM ALONE!" A very angry, very familiar, very relieving voice suddenly roared.
"Joe!" Mick gave a strangled cry and turned his head just enough to see Joe sprinting down the alley towards them.
"GET THE FUCK OFF HIM!" Joe demanded, colliding with Jack and and wrapping his hands around his throat. "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?"
Mick fell backwards away from the wall and landed in a heap on the floor. He was shaking and breathing heavily and he was ready to pass out, but he forced himself to stay awake to watch Jack get what he deserved. Joe looked ready to kill Jack, but he only hit him a couple times before Jack pulled out a flick knife and directed it at Joe's throat. "No!" Mick yelled, trying to crawl toward Joe, but he couldn't.
"Mick, stay there." Joe ordered calmly before turning back to Jack. "Go." He said. "Get out of here, you bastard."
Jack seemed to be debating whether to leave or stab Joe. He eventually decided to leave and he took off, leaving Joe free to tend to Mick. "I got you, you're gonna be fine." He whispered, kneeling beside Mick and lifting him gently into his lap. "You gotta go to the hospital, you're cut up pretty bad."
Mick couldn't pay attention; he was slowly losing consciousness, everything was spinning, Joe was saying unintelligible things. "I..." He wheezed, wincing at the pain in his ribs.
He wasn't sure what he was trying to say. Maybe 'I love you'. He couldn't find the words, so he grabbed hold of Joe's hand before his eyes began to close. The last thing he remembered seeing was Joe's worried expression looking down at him.