Months
It was months before he stopped saying it, stopped saying "Rickey" into the darkness, stopped thinking, his mind still blurry from sex and sleep, that it really was Rickey holding him. Months before he stopped wondering why Rickey turned over every time he said his name- only to realize after a moment that it wasn't Rickey, that it was Mickey. Mickey. Mickey was the one in his bed, van, hotel room, living room, arms. Mickey was the one holding him- not Rickey. Rickey's hands, arms, skin, lips, chest, hair...but not Rickey. Mickey.