Micky was lazing around in front of the TV the following day when he was disturbed by a knock at the door. Micky had a feeling he knew who it would be, and when he answered the door his suspicions were correct; it was Davy.
Micky almost rolled his eyes the moment he set sight on the Englishman. Davy was beginning to make a bit of a habit of stopping by, and although Micky was grateful for his friend's support, today he really wasn't in the mood.
"Do you want to thank me now or later?" Was the first thing Davy said when Micky opened the door.
Micky blinked hard as Davy barged past him into the house. "What?"
"You can thank me later on if you want." Davy said confidently.
Micky was completely puzzled. "Thank you for what?" He questioned.
"For encouraging you to come out last night." Davy replied as he wandered into the lounge. "That girl you left with was smashing! I'm here to get all the gory details."
Micky's shoulders slumped as he recalled the events of the previous night. "There's nothing to tell." He sighed.
"Oh pull the other one!" Davy laughed, sitting himself on the couch. "I saw you leave with her so you can't deny it. There's no point being shy about it."
"I did leave with her, but..." Micky trailed off, feeling embarrassed.
"But what? You went back to her place, didn't you?" Davy pressed.
"Yeah, we did, but... but nothing happened." Micky sighed, slumping down on the couch next to his friend.
"What do you mean, "nothing happened"? You were all over each other in the club." Davy said, a look of confusion covering his face.
"I didn't sleep with her, okay?" Micky blurted out.
"Well why the hell not?" Davy asked.
"I couldn't." Micky replied, staring at the floor.
"What do you mean you couldn't? Did she change her mind or something?" Davy probed - there was no way he was giving up without an explanation.
"No, she didn't change her mind..." Micky mumbled. "She certainly didn't change her mind..."
"So why didn't you bang her then?" Davy questioned, his face screwed up in confusion.
"Because I couldn't." Micky cringed, looking at his friend. "I couldn't. I literally, physically couldn't."
Davy stared at Micky blankly. "I don't get it."
Micky looked to the ceiling and sighed dramatically. "Do I really need to spell it out to you?" He asked, irked that Davy wasn't getting his drift. "I couldn't." He said slowly, emphasising his words.
"You've already said that, but why couldn't you?!" Davy looked just as annoyed as Micky was.
"Because I couldn't get a damn erection, that's why!" Micky blurted out, frustrated that he had to say the actual words. "I couldn't get hard so I didn't fuck her. There. Now you know."
Davy looked a little taken aback. "Oh right." He said awkwardly.
Micky sat back and closed his eyes, cringing at the awkwardness of the situation.
"Well, ya know, that's alright." Davy said after a few moments silence. "I know it can happen to some blokes after they've had a bit too much to drink. Not that it's happened to me, mind, but I know it can happen to some guys, so I wouldn't stress about it."
"I wasn't even that drunk." Micky muttered. He finally managed to look Davy in the face. "I've screwed loads of girls when I've been too drunk to even stand. I've never had this problem before. Well... that's a lie. It's happened once before. I went to Vegas after things first started happening between me and Mike. I hooked up with a girl then, but... well, I didn't actually hook up with her because I couldn't then either. But I figured it was just because my head was a mess over Mike, but now... I don't know. I don't know anything anymore."
Davy sighed deeply, and Micky could tell his friend was wracking his brain for some kind of answer. "She was really hot though." He finally said - that seemed to be all he could come up with. "I mean, how could you not want to bang her? She was gorgeous, man."
"I know she was, and I wanted to want to but I just didn't." Micky sighed. "All I could think about was Mike. I couldn't get him out of my mind and all I could do was compare her to him."
Davy pulled a disgusted face. "You were with a bird that looked like that and you were too busy thinking about Mike?" He questioned, aghast.
"I tried to get into it, I really did." Micky said desperately. "But nothing seemed to work."
"How could you compare her to Mike?!" Davy asked, slightly mortified.
"I've spent months being with one person; one man. I felt like I'd forgotten how to be with a woman." Micky replied in his defence. "It all felt so...wrong."
Davy still wore that puzzled look. "Bloody hell." He sighed.
"I want to stop feeling this way, but I don't know how." Micky said sadly. "I'm so confused. I love him so much but I hate him for leaving me like this. But then I don't hate him at all, and- and everything is a mess. Last night I hated him, or I thought I hated him, and I wanted to get back at him. I wanted to sleep with that girl out of spite. I wanted to prove to myself that I can get on with my life and that I don't need him. But it didn't happen. It didn't work like that. And she was so beautiful and she wanted me and I couldn't do anything. All I could think about was how she wasn't Mike. I used to have sex with anyone but now I can't imagine myself being with anyone but him. It's not just sex; it was so much more than that. I'm never going to be able to have that with anyone else."
Micky didn't look at Davy as he spoke, and instead he hung his head sadly. He didn't mean to say those things, but once again he simply couldn't help himself - Micky was a talker, after all.
But Davy was virtually squirming in his seat, once again out of his depth and unsure what to say next. Micky looked up at his friend to see Davy staring straight ahead, his mind racing behind his eyes. He eventually turned to look at Micky and pulled yet another awkward facial expression.
"You and Mike..." Davy begun slowly, cautiously, awkwardly. "So you two...you two..."
Davy trailed off and was making weird gestures with his hands as if he was trying to say something without using words. Now it was Micky's turn to look on blankly as he wondered what on earth Davy was trying to say.
"Me and Mike what?" Micky asked.
"You... so you two, you... you did... stuff..." Davy looked ahead as he spoke.
Micky's cheeks flushed red as he figured out what he thought Davy was trying to say. "Do you mean have sex...?" He asked.
Davy glanced at Micky before nodding his head.
"Of course we did." Micky replied. He wasn't ashamed but Davy's blatant discomfort was what was making Micky feel incredibly embarrassed. "We were a couple in love. Of course we had sex."
"Yeah but," Davy blurted out. "You're two men. I figured you did stuff but- but- I didn't know whether or not you did...you know... everything."
Micky sighed deeply. He was silent for a moment as he composed himself, realising he had no reason to be embarrassed even if Davy was. "You mean anal sex." He said in a no-nonsense manner. Davy immediately tensed up and now it was the Englishman's turn to blush. "Not that it's any of your business, Davy, but yeah, we had sex. Full sex. And for the record, seeing as it clearly means so much to you, it was the best fucking sex either of us has ever had. It was amazing. So there you have it. Go home and write it in your journal; Micky loves taking it up the ass! Because you know what? I do."
Micky sat back and folded his arms. Saying that out loud to anyone other than Mike was a bizarre feeling, but he felt strangely exhilarated by it. Davy on the other hand looked slightly mortified.
"I-I'm sorry, man." Davy stammered - it was rare for Micky to see Davy so uncomfortable. "I wasn't trying to stick my nose in. I didn't want details or anything, I just... I don't know. I suppose I'm just trying to understand."
Micky's initial boldness and rush of being so honest was now being replaced with slight embarrassment for his choice of words and deciding to be so frank about it his sex life with Mike. The curly haired man sighed deeply. "It's alright." He said quietly. "If I were in your shoes I'd probably be curious too. Actually, I know I would. I get that this is weird for you. To be honest, it's weird for me too."
Davy smiled sheepishly. "I guess I still can't get my head around it." He admitted. "If you'd only have been with guys before then I could understand, but the fact that you were with so many girls and... It's just strange, that's all. It's confusing for me, I suppose."
"I'm confused too." Micky confessed. "To be honest I don't even really know who I am anymore. I don't know if I couldn't sleep with Sarah because I'm still so into Mike, or... or whether it's because she's a chick. If I'd have gone home with a man last night, would things have been different?"
Davy shrugged his shoulders. "Only you can answer that, mate."
"Only I can't." Micky sighed. "I don't even know what I am anymore. Even when I realised I had feelings for Mike, I just sort of saw it as me being a straight guy with a stupid crush on a dude. It wasn't a big deal... well, it was a big deal, but I made it seem like it wasn't. But now I don't know anymore. I don't know what I am. I don't even know if it matters."
"Can you ever see yourself hooking up with another guy?" Davy asked curiously.
"I can't see myself hooking up with anyone." Micky replied thoughtfully. "All I want is Mike."
"Well, it's still early days." Davy reassured him. "Maybe in a few months things will start to make more sense."
"I hope so." Micky sighed.
"I'm sorry, man." Davy said, and Micky was surprised by how genuine he sounded. "I should never have told you to start looking for women again. That was a stupid idea, and now look at ya - you're even more messed up than before."
"It wasn't your fault, Davy." Micky assured him. "You were trying to be a friend. Nobody forced me to go home with Sarah last night."
"What happened, anyway?" Davy wondered. "Was she pissed..?"
"Well... I kinda made sure she was seen to, if you know what I mean." Micky replied. "So at least she got something out of it, even if she didn't get everything she wanted."
Davy nodded, and silence fell upon the pair. Micky's mind drifted off again while Davy too looked thoughtful.
After about a minute, Davy spoke up. "What do you see in him?" He asked out of the blue.
Micky snapped out of his thoughts and looked at his friend blankly.
"Mike." Davy answered Micky's silent question. "What do you see in him?"
"What do you mean?" Micky asked in a rather small voice. Of course he understood what Davy meant, but he was unsure why the Englishman had asked.
"Just... you're so different, that's all." Davy replied. "I mean, obviously I'm not into blokes, but I don't have a problem with guys who are. I don't have a problem with you, you know, being that way inclined. But I just don't get what you see in Mike. I mean, yeah, alright, he's a good-looking guy. I suppose he's kinda handsome. He's tall which helps, not that everyone needs height. I know some chicks dig that mean and moody thing, but I don't get why you would. He's just so... stand-offish. I know he can be a laugh sometimes but most of the time he just seems so frosty."
Micky listened with intrigue and sadness at Davy's completely inaccurate description of the man he loved so much.
"He's really stubborn and proud, too." Davy continued.
"Like you, you mean?" Micky questioned.
Davy held his hands up. "Alright, I'll admit I have my moments. But with Mike he's just... he's so hard." Davy looked really thoughtful as he spoke. "You're not like him at all. You've always been wild and fun and outgoing and you wear your heart on your sleeve. I get that Mike is passionate but he's just so guarded and uptight. He's a really weird guy and I just don't get what it is that you dig about him so much."
"You don't know him like I do." Micky said quietly.
Davy stared at Micky. "Did he really give you what you wanted from a relationship?" He asked. "You were always so touchy-feely with Samantha and all your girlfriends. You're just that type of guy, the kinda guy who's affectionate and likes to show people that you care. You're even like that with your friends! Can you seriously tell me that Mike was like that? I can imagine him being a block of ice in bed. Not that I've imagined him in bed, mind you, but you know what I mean."
Micky shook his head. "He was really affectionate with me." He said in a small voice, sadness bubbling in his stomach. "He was so loving and kind and gentle... he wasn't a block of ice. He was only like that when he needed to be; that was his defence mechanism. But he wasn't like that with me, not really. You don't... you don't know him like I know him. You don't see what I saw. I had him- I had him cry in my arms. After his grandmother died, he broke down, and I... he let me in. He showed me so much of himself that he hadn't shown anyone before. He's been through things that you don't know about. He's the way he is for a reason."
Micky went quiet, and so did Davy. The two of them sat in silence again.
"He said he would die for me, and what scares me is that I know he meant it." Micky continued, staring at the floor. "He had this way with me... I can't explain it. It was like I trusted him with my life. It's like when I was around him, I felt... I felt safe. I know that's stupid, because it's not like anyone is out to get me. It's not like I needed protecting or anything. But I just felt like nothing could ever hurt me when he was around. Maybe that's why I was always so sure things would work out, because he made me feel so secure... I didn't know anyone could ever make me feel that way."
Davy picked at his fingernail as Micky spoke. The Englishman no longer looked uncomfortable, and instead he now looked a little sad.
"He was affectionate with me." Micky said again, the sadness he felt inside now coming across in his voice. "He would always touch my hair and hold my hand and he'd always stare right into my eyes when he was talking to me. We'd sit in front of the TV not even speaking but he would have his hand on my thigh or his arm wrapped around me. He'd sit there playing with my hair watching me read a book for hours sometimes. When we were in bed he wasn't a block of ice. He was like my comfort blanket. He would wrap his arms around me and I'd sleep all through the night with my head on his chest. And I know he was probably uncomfortable, but he didn't care. He never asked me to stop. He didn't want me to stop. And I'd wake up in the morning and he'd be watching me like I was the most important person on earth. He made me feel so special, but he was so special, too. He was lovely. He is lovely. He is absolutely lovely. He told me he loved me all the time. Even when I thought he was being a jerk, I know he was being a jerk because he loved me and because he was looking out for me. He is beautiful; the most beautiful man I've ever seen, inside and out. He has a smile that makes my heart want to explode in my chest. That smile literally takes my breath away. Sometimes I felt like I couldn't even breathe because that smile made me so happy. When he smiled at me like that, it was as if nothing else in the world even mattered apart from him."
Davy stared into his lap and remained totally silent. Micky looked over at his friend. "I'm sorry." He said quietly. "I shouldn't have said all that... I've made you feel uncomfortable."
"It's alright." Davy replied quietly. "I did ask."
The friends were silent for a few moments.
"We were so happy." Micky said as a lump formed in his throat. He looked towards Davy as if he was begging the Englishman to believe him.
Davy looked up at his friend sadly. "Then why did he leave you?" He asked.
Micky was hurt by that question. "I told you why. He didn't think he could make me happy."
"But why did he have to get back with Phyllis?" Davy questioned. "He could've left you without getting back with his wife as well."
Micky looked ahead thoughtfully, mulling over Davy's words. "He said he was trying to put things right."
"I wasn't going to tell you this," Davy begun with a sigh, causing Micky to look at him. "But Linda was out with a couple of her friends at a restaurant in town the other night. She saw Phyllis and Mike there. She didn't get to speak to them but she said they looked pretty happy. Both of them."
Micky attempted to swallow the lump in his throat. "He's a good actor." He said quietly.
"Is he?" Davy wondered. He run his fingers through his hair and sighed deeply. "I'm not- I'm not trying to put down what you and Mike had together, but... but maybe he meant more to you than you meant to him. He always used to say he was a con man. Maybe he conned you."
Micky stared at Davy under a heavy frown. Micky could tell that Davy wasn't trying to hurt him, but he felt hurt all the same. "You're wrong." Micky choked.
"Maybe I am, but all I know is that while he's out smiling and laughing having dinner dates with the wife that he supposedly doesn't love, you're sat here like this." Davy said knowingly. "And that ain't right, mate."
Micky stared ahead, Davy's words echoing around his head.
"I'm just sayin'... maybe he's not as hung up on you as you are on him." Davy said. "I'm not trying to be a dick, man, I'm just... I'm worried about you."
"I think you should leave." Micky said quietly.
Davy sighed in a defeated fashion. "I'm sorry, Micky. Maybe I've got it wrong." He said.
"Please can you go." Micky said - it wasn't a question, it was an order. A gentle order, but an order all the same.
Davy sighed again and nodded his head before standing himself up. "Please call you if you need a chat or whatever." He told him. "I'm just on the other end of the phone."
"I want to be on my own now, please." Micky said gently, still staring ahead and not even looking at his English friend.
Davy nodded. "I'll speak to you soon." He said.
Davy watched over Micky cautiously before turning to leave. Micky sat on the couch, Davy's words spinning around his head and tears threatening his eyes.
"He's wrong. He has no idea what he's talking about." Micky's mind told him.
"Doesn't he?" A voice is his head questioned.
"How could he know? He knows nothing about Mike and nothing about our relationship."
"But Linda saw them looking happy together."
"Linda got it wrong."
"Did she?"
"Did she?"
The voice in Micky's head seemed to get louder over the next few weeks, and Davy's words were still ringing in his ears. Micky's sadness was once again replaced with bitterness and resentment, although this time it was much stronger than before. Micky suddenly became desperate to get over Mike and get on with his life, not wanting Mike to 'win' and reduce him to a self-pitying mess any longer. Micky didn't hold Davy's words against him, and the next time the pair saw each other Micky was hell-bent on showing Davy that he was just fine without Mike.
But Micky was far from fine, and his remedy for this was a simple one; to party hard. No longer did Micky spend his days alone in his house, but instead he was going out almost every night, to clubs and parties, and even hosting parties of his own, getting drunk and doing all sorts of drugs. Micky was going wild - far wilder that he used to be, and he didn't care who knew it.
Micky remembered how much Mike didn't like it when he got 'fucked up', and that spurred the curly haired man on even more - Micky's reckless behaviour was partly fuelled by spite.
It was now the middle of November, almost two months since he and Mike split up, and Micky was nothing short of a mess. Davy had tried to encourage his friend to "take it easy", but Micky assured him he was just blowing off some steam and enjoying his freedom again.
Micky wasn't particularly enjoying himself though. Micky also hadn't attempted to pick up any women after the disaster that took place with Sarah. While he had kissed several girls he'd met in clubs and bars, nothing ever progressed further than that - he simply didn't have the bottle.
One night, Micky left the club he was in early - for whatever reason, he just wasn't enjoying himself. Micky found himself walking alone along Sunset Boulevard and he had no idea where he wanted to go or what he wanted to do. He didn't really feel like going home, but he didn't want to be with his friends back at the club, either - Micky didn't actually feel like being on his own.
Suddenly Micky found himself outside a bar that he'd heard of many times, although he'd never been inside before - it was a gay bar. Micky stood outside and stared at the building - it was rather unassuming to look at, and Micky found himself drawn to it, curious as to what it was like - or what was going on - inside. Before Micky could talk himself out of it, he entered the building.
Micky walked a little way before he entered the main area of the club. As soon as Micky stepped inside, he felt nervous - although he wasn't entirely sure why. Micky felt eyes on him which made him feel paranoid; he really didn't want to get recognised in a place like this.
Micky's glassy eyes observed the club in both wonder and bewilderment. There were men kissing, dancing, touching and flirting, right there under his nose. A lot of the men fit the typical stereotype that most people seemed to slap on gay men, but Micky was also struck by how many guys didn't seem to fit that stereotype at all. As Micky looked around the room, most of the men seemed normal. Not that Micky viewed the others as abnormal, but many of these guys weren't men Micky would expect to be that way inclined - a lot like nobody would ever expect Mike to be that way inclined.
Micky was fascinated by the mixture of people in the club. Although the vast majority of the clubbers were men, there were women too - and some that Micky wasn't even sure of. But for all the sights that Micky didn't usually see in a regular night club, Micky found himself drawn to a man that was standing alone in the corner, practically in the shadows. The man was a little older and certainly not someone Micky would ever picture being in a club like this. The man was tall and dark, and Micky thought that if he squinted and the light was dimmer, he could easily imagine it was Mike. As it was, the man looked nothing like Mike at all.
The man was looking at Micky which made him feel a little peculiar. Micky was used to getting checked out by girls - although he could never really understand why - but being checked out by men wasn't something Micky was used to. Micky assumed that somewhere along the line he must've caught the eye of a man other than Mike, but Micky had never been aware of it until now.
Micky quickly looked away from the man, not wanting to give off the wrong impression, but he was very aware the man was still looking at him.
"Hi, do I know you from somewhere?"
Micky's head snapped around and saw an attractive young man looking at him curiously.
"Uh- I-I don't think so." Micky stammered in response.
The man's eyes narrowed in a suspicious yet-friendly manner. "Are you sure?" He asked curiously. "You look really familiar."
"Er-" Micky stared at the man in slight panic, hoping the guy wouldn't figure out who he actually was. "I get that a lot." He finally said.
The guy smiled. "I'm Jack." He said, holding out his hand to Micky.
Micky hesitated for a moment before shaking Jack's hand. "I'm- George." He replied. Although George was Micky's actual birth-name, Micky had never gone by that name. He feared that if he told Jack his name was 'Micky' then Jack would figure out just where he recognised him from.
"It's good to meet you." Jack smiled. "I haven't seen you in here before."
"I-I've never been in here before, that's why." Micky said, looking around anxiously.
"Well there's no need to worry, nobody is going to bite." Jack assured him, clearly picking up on Micky's discomfort. "Not unless you want them to, that is." He joked.
Micky laughed nervously.
"Are you here with friends, or..?" Jack asked tentatively, not wanting to step on anyone's toes.
Micky thought for a moment before shaking his head. "No," He replied. "I'm on my own."
Jack smiled - he looked surprised. "Really?" He asked.
Micky felt a little paranoid. "Yeah, why?"
"I just figured you were here with a boyfriend or a date or something." Jack replied.
"Why?" Micky wondered.
"Because you're the cutest guy in this place." Jack said, his eyes flashing down as a small, almost shy smile covered his face.
Micky felt his cheeks flush red. He opened his mouth but no words came out.
Jack's momentary shyness quickly passed, and the friendly stranger let out a little laugh. "Can I get you a drink?" Jack asked.
"Uh... sure, okay." Micky replied.
"Just a beer?" Jack wondered.
"Yeah. Thanks." Micky forced a smile.
Jack smiled back and walked over to the bar. Micky watched Jack walk away; he was a good-looking guy, a similar age to Micky and a similar height, too. He had light brown hair and a friendly face. Micky looked around the room once more, hoping that nobody recognised him, and he noticed the dark-haired man who was hiding in the corner had gone.
Micky eventually walked to a free table and sat himself down, still anxiously looking around in case somebody pointed at him and announced; "Hey, that's a Monkee!" to the entire club. A short while later, Jack returned with a tray of drinks - two bottles of beer, and two shots of what looked like vodka.
"I got you a shot," Jack said, setting the tray down on the table and sitting beside Micky. "I thought it'd help calm your nerves."
Micky laughed awkwardly. "Nerves? I'm not nervous." He lied.
Jack looked amused. "Is this your first time in a gay bar?" He wondered.
"No." Micky blurted out confidently. Jack simply looked at him with his eyebrows raised. Micky sighed. "Maybe." He conceded. "And by 'maybe' I mean yeah. Yeah, it is."
Jack smiled. "It's okay. It's just like any other club except in here you know where everyone is at."
Micky smiled awkwardly before picking up the vodka shot and knocking it back. He winced a little before taking a sip of his beer. "Sorry. You probably think I'm weird."
"Not really." Jack replied. "I was the same the first time I came to a bar like this. You soon get used to it though. Like I said, it's just like any other club, really."
Micky nodded, sipping his beer slowly.
"So, I'm guessing you haven't been out for long then?" Jack asked.
Micky thought that was a strange question, and he looked at his watch. "Uh, I've been out for a few hours. I was at another club with friends but I got bored and ended up here."
Jack tilted his head back and let out a loud belly laugh, causing Micky to frown in confusion. "I don't mean out tonight. I mean out-out. Out of the closet."
Micky felt his cheeks flush red and he found himself looking around awkwardly, wondering how on earth to respond.
Jack's face fell, and he suddenly looked a little guilty. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry; I was just trying to make conversation." He said.
"It's alright." Micky replied, forcing a smile. "I just, uh... well, to tell you the truth, I'm not really out at all. I don't really know what I'm doing at the moment."
Jack smiled sympathetically. "It's okay, man. You don't need to explain if you don't want to."
"If I'm honest, my life is just really fucking complicated right now." Micky admitted.
Jack nodded his head in understanding. "Isn't everyone's?" He asked.
Micky managed to smile before sipping his beer again. It had been strange enough talking about his sexuality to Davy, let alone a total stranger, and Micky knew he was taking a bit of a risk even being in a gay bar in the first place. Micky knew that if someone recognised him he could end up in big trouble, but as the night went on he started to care less and less.
Alcohol had always been a friend of Micky's. Micky wasn't naturally as confident as most people were led to believe, but drinking helped Micky become the person he wanted to be; the loud, wild, outgoing guy that everyone expected him to be. The nerves Micky had felt when he first entered the bar were getting washed away by the amount of booze he was knocking back.
Micky and Jack talked, flirted and danced together for a few hours before Jack finally asked Micky back to his apartment. Micky was rather drunk at this point, and he accepted Jack's offer without a second thought.
Jack's apartment was only about a ten minute walk from the club, but the fresh air was enough to slightly sober up both men by the time they arrived at their destination. Once they got inside, the nerves that Micky had managed to sweep aside for the majority of the evening returned to him. Micky and Jack had made small talk on the walk to Jack's place, but now they were inside the reality of the situation finally seemed to dawn on Micky.
Jack smiled at Micky. "Do you want a drink or anything?" He asked.
Micky shook his head. "No, I'm cool thanks." He replied.
Jack watched Micky for a moment, and when the virtual stranger took a step forward, Micky's heart started to race. Jack paused for a moment before leaning in to kiss Micky on the lips.
It took Micky a few seconds before he decided to kiss Jack back. The kiss felt weird. It felt really, really weird. It felt less weird than the kisses Micky had shared with girls recently, but that only succeeded in weirding out Micky even more. It didn't feel as wrong, but it certainly didn't feel right, either.
Micky's mind was racing. "You're kissing a man." The voice in Micky's head told him.
Micky felt a split second of panic before dismissing the voice. "So? I kissed Mike hundreds, maybe even thousands of times. Mike's a man."
"But this man isn't Mike."
Micky quickly pulled out of the kiss. His cheeks felt flushed and he felt embarrassed, as if Jack could hear the argument he was having inside of his head.
Jack looked at Micky cautiously. "Do you want to do this..?" He asked.
Micky stared at Jack, unsure of the actual real answer to that simple question. Micky wanted to want to do it. Micky wanted to do it because he knew how much Mike would hate it if he did. But then if Mike never really cared about Micky the way he said he did, would Mike even care at all?
"Yes." Micky replied confidently.
Jack smiled before taking hold of Micky's hand and leading him to his bedroom. Micky's mind continued to race and his heart continued to pound as Jack closed the bedroom door behind them. When Jack moved in to kiss Micky on the lips again, Micky instinctively pulled away.
"What's wrong?" Jack asked.
"Just, er... not on the lips." Micky replied honestly.
Jack looked confused. "You don't want me to kiss you on the lips?" He asked.
"You can anywhere else, and I'll kiss you anywhere else, but... but not on the lips." Micky said with surprising confidence.
Jack looked a little uncertain. "George, can I ask you a personal question?"
"Uh, sure, okay." Micky replied.
"You have been with a man before, haven't you?" Jack asked awkwardly. "I mean, you said earlier on that you weren't exactly out, and I just-"
"I have been with a man." Micky announced. "One man. But... but we were in a relationship. And we split up a couple of months ago, and uh... and this is just a bit weird for me, that's all. I'm just going to be honest with you."
Micky was surprised by how frank and honest he was being, but he knew that was probably down to the alcohol in his system.
"But you do want to do this, don't you?" Jack asked again. "Because if you're not into it, then-"
"I am." Micky said quickly. "I want to."