After Davy left Micky that day, Micky went upstairs and did another line of cocaine - something that Micky found himself doing more and more over the following weeks.
Micky's wild lifestyle continued as November turned into December, and the curly-haired man appeared to be on a downward spiral even after his warning from Davy. Micky continued to party hard, and as well as getting totally fucked up every night Micky made it his mission to get laid every night, too. Micky started to pick up women, but he was actually picking up even more men. A lot more men.
Micky had found another gay bar to seek out men - or, in actuality, to be sought out by men - preferring to avoid the original gay bar he discovered in fear of running into Tony again. Micky found it even easier to pick up men than he'd found it to pick up women, and he usually ended up being the submissive one with his male sexual partners - although not always. Micky was pretty happy to go along with whatever was wanted or expected of him, whether it was to be fucked or to do the fucking.
The bag of cocaine that Tony had given him managed to last a couple of weeks. Micky tried to resist using it too often - more for fear of running out than anything else - but now and then he found the odd line of coke to be the perfect pick-me-up.
Micky had also made the effort to speak to Samantha, although his attempts weren't quite good enough. Micky had merely called his ex-girlfriend and explained that he was "dealing with some stuff" and that's why he hadn't been around much of late. Samantha wasn't exactly satisfied with his response, but Micky was too involved in his own issues to care. He sent her a bouquet of flowers as a "peace offering", but that was as far as Micky's efforts had gone.
Davy had stayed away from Micky since their minor altercation a couple of weeks before, and Micky was beginning to feel a little guilty for his treatment of his friend. In an attempt to show him there were no hard feelings, Micky decided to invite Davy on a night out.
The two men went to a nightclub that they used to go to pretty often, and Micky was determined to have a good time and convince Davy that he had nothing to worry about in regards to his wild behaviour. Micky and Davy had been in the club with a few of their friends for a couple of hours, and Micky was keen for everyone to have a great time. Davy hadn't tried to talk to Micky about anything serious, much to Micky's relief, although the Englishman had made a few sly remarks that had gotten under Micky's skin.
Micky finished the last of his beer, slamming the bottle down on the table he shared with his friends. Davy, along with Micky's other friends around the table, were only about a quarter of the way through their drinks.
Davy looked at Micky with a hint of disapproval. "You've finished that already?" He asked.
Micky ignored Davy's comment. "Another round?" He asked.
Micky's friend Ric laughed as he held up his bottle of beer which was still pretty full. "We haven't finished this round yet!"
Micky clapped his hands together in a "chop-chop" fashion. "Well what are you waiting for?!" He joked. "I'm going to get some more drinks."
"Well if you're buying then don't let me stop you." Micky and Davy's other friend, Ed, laughed.
Micky pushed his chair back and rose to his feet while Davy looked up at him. "Maybe you should slow down." Davy suggested, as Micky had certainly been knocking the drinks back a lot quicker than everyone else.
Micky glared at Davy, annoyed that the Englishman was trying to 'embarrass' him in front of his friends. "Maybe you should lighten up." He hit back on the quiet.
Davy rolled his eyes as Micky made his way to the bar. There was quite a crowd gathered at the bar waiting to be served, and Micky sighed in annoyance when he realised he was going to be waiting a while to get a drink.
"Hello, Micky."
Micky turned around and was shocked to see Tony standing beside him, that same smug smile on his face. Micky hadn't seen Tony since their encounter a couple of weeks before, and Micky immediately felt uncomfortable in the older man's presence.
Micky turned away from Tony, attempting to ignore the man standing next to him. He felt embarrassed and concerned that Tony might approach his group of friends.
"There's no need to be rude." Tony said. "Especially as you had so much fun the last time you saw me."
Micky glared at Tony, feeling totally uneasy and unsure what to say.
Tony stepped a little closer to Micky. "Do you still have that stuff I gave you?" He said just loud enough for Micky to hear.
Micky suddenly felt panicked, hoping and praying that Tony hadn't given him the cocaine to "look after" or something - especially as he'd used it all.
Tony clearly picked up on Micky's concerned expression. "Don't worry," He reassured him. "I don't want it back or anything; it was yours to use. I just want you to know there's plenty more where that came from."
Micky couldn't help but feel tempted, but he tried not to rise to Tony's bait. "What are you doing here?" He questioned. For some reason Micky assumed that Tony would only ever be lurking in the shadows of the gay bar where they had first met.
"This is my club." Tony announced.
Micky was stunned. "You run this place?" He asked.
"Run the place, own the place - that's me." Tony said arrogantly.
Micky's eyes narrowed. "I've been here loads of times but I don't remember ever seeing you here."
"That's funny, because I can remember seeing you." Tony said, a devilish smirk crossing his face.
Micky felt his cheeks go a little red and he turned his back on Tony again, desperate for the crowd at the bar to clear so he could get his drinks and head back to his friends.
"Here, come with me," Tony said, casually taking hold of Micky's arm and gently dragging him the short distance to the end of the bar where there were few people.
Micky had been too taken-aback not to follow, and when they reached the clearing at the end of the bar Tony waved his hand to one of the bartenders to get his attention. As soon as the bartender saw Tony he stopped what he was doing and rushed over.
"What can I get you, boss?" The bartender asked.
"Two whiskeys." Tony replied. The bartender swiftly poured two glasses of whiskey while Tony turned to face Micky again. "See, this is the beauty of owning this place - I don't have to wait to get service."
Micky simply stared at Tony as the bartender put the two glasses down on the counter. "Thanks, Carl."
Tony then tried to hand Micky one of the whiskeys, which Micky didn't accept. "I don't need you to buy me a drink." He said in a sharp tone.
"I didn't buy it; this is my club, so I'm just giving it to you." Tony smirked.
Micky sneered. "I don't want anything from you." He said.
Tony moved closer to Micky so that his lips weren't far away from Micky's ear. "That's not what you were saying the other night." He flirted, pulling back far enough to look Micky straight in the eye. "You couldn't get enough from what I remember."
Micky's cheeks turned scarlet as he looked at Tony's smug face, and he stepped back feeling totally mortified.
Tony also helped create a reasonable distance between the pair, although his still wore that satisfied expression. "You look like your friends are boring you." He said.
Micky frowned. "No they're not." He hit back. "Have you been watching me?"
Tony simply smiled. He moved closer to Micky again and pointed towards a pair of doors. "You see those doors that lead to the restrooms? Well go past the restrooms and keep following that corridor round. You'll come to a door that says Staff Only. Go through it and you'll eventually come to a door with my name on it. That's my office."
Micky looked at Tony in disgust. "Why would I want to know that?"
"I'm just letting you know in case you decide you want some real fun tonight." Tony said with a grin. "I'll be in there in two minutes."
Tony tried to hand Micky the glass of whiskey again, which Micky absent-mindedly accepted this time, before walking off in the direction he'd pointed at - leaving Micky feeling totally unsure about his next move.
Micky sipped the whiskey that Tony had given him, and although Micky wasn't a big whiskey drinker, this stuff did taste good. Micky looked over to his table of friends and saw everyone laughing at joking - apart from Davy, who was watching Micky suspiciously.
Micky felt unsettled that Davy was watching him, although when Davy realised Micky had noticed him he went back to chit-chatting with the people at the table. Micky wondered if Davy had watched his whole exchange with Tony, although even in his paranoid state he knew there was no way Davy could've heard anything that was said.
Micky turned his back on Davy and his table of friends and took another few sips of his whiskey as he pondered what to do next. Micky was angry with Tony, and more than anything else he was insulted that Tony had just expected him to follow him. Micky was frustrated that he couldn't tell Tony to get lost without causing a scene, and it was that frustration that inspired Micky to go after Tony and give him what-for.
Micky knocked back the rest of the whiskey and left the glass on a nearby table before storming off towards Tony's office. Micky followed Tony's directions, pushing through two double doors and following the corridor that led to the ladies and gentlemen's restrooms. Micky carried on down the corridor through the 'Staff Only' door until he reached the room in question.
Micky knocked on the door and within a matter of seconds, Tony answered it - and he didn't look remotely shocked to see Micky standing there.
"That didn't take you long, I hadn't even sat down." Tony laughed, much to Micky's disgust. Tony let Micky inside and shut the door behind him, turning the key as he did so.
"Who the hell do you think you are?" Micky snapped.
"Excuse me?" Tony asked, a little amused.
"You think you can patronise me and then expect me to follow you to your office like some little lap dog?!" Micky shouted.
Tony laughed. "Well you did follow me, didn't you?"
"Only to tell you that I think you're a fucking asshole!" Micky spat, stepping forward.
Tony didn't look in the least bit bothered by Micky's outburst. "Has anyone ever told you how sexy you look when you're angry?"
Micky was furious. "Fuck you!" He shouted, putting his hands to Tony's chest and shoving him backwards.
"Ooh, you want to play rough, huh?" Tony said, shoving Micky straight back. "I should've remembered that from the other night."
Micky didn't try to fight back anymore, instead he just glared at Tony in disgust and anger.
"What's that face for?" Tony asked in a mock-sad tone. He tried to touch Micky's face, but the curly-haired man pulled away quickly. "It's a bit late to start acting like you don't appreciate my attention. You more than enjoyed yourself the other night."
"I don't remember enjoying anything." Micky hit back.
"That's funny, because from where I was you seemed to be enjoying everything." Tony said, his voice dripping with smugness. He took a step forward and gazed at Micky.
Micky chewed the inside of his mouth. "You're a liar. I was fucked up. I didn't know what I was doing." He said.
"Oh, come on." Tony laughed. "Don't try to play the innocent card with me, Micky. You knew exactly what you were doing and you loved every minute of it."
Micky continued to stand there almost helplessly, staring at Tony.
"You liked it. You liked it all. Nothing was off the table for you." Tony said slowly. He reached up and touched Micky's curly hair. "You were so animated and loud. Boy, were you loud. You didn't want to kiss me on the mouth but that was the only thing you weren't willing to do."
Micky was mortified and felt absolutely humiliated. The fact that he'd been thinking rationally enough to tell Tony he didn't want to kiss on the lips made Micky wonder if everything else Tony was saying was true, too.
"So don't pretend we're not friends," Tony continued. "I know the real reason you followed me, and it wasn't to tell me what a bad person I am."
Still Micky stood there staring at Tony - he was too ashamed to speak.
Tony smiled and walked to a picture that hung on the wall; another expensive piece of art. Tony took the painting off of the wall and revealed a safe. When Tony opened the safe, Micky couldn't help but notice there was a lot of cocaine inside; a large bag filled with loads of smaller bags. Micky's eyes widened as he wondered how Tony had come to be in possession of such a large amount of coke, and that's when he truly started to realise just how powerful Tony must've been.
Once Tony had locked the safe and hung the painting back on the wall, he turned to Micky again. Tony opened his hand to reveal a little bag of cocaine.
"Do you want to do a line with me, Micky?" Tony asked casually.
Tony's office wasn't much of an office - there was a desk and a filing cabinet in the corner, but for the most part it just looked like a lounge. There were two leather couches and a coffee table, and Tony proceeded to sit himself down on one of the couches as he opened the little bag of cocaine.
Micky watched as Tony arranged the lines on the table just as he had done before. Tony snorted a line himself before patting the couch next to him, gesturing for Micky to join him.
Micky hesitated for just a moment before sitting himself down next to Tony on the couch. Tony handed Micky a rolled up bank note and sat back as Micky swiftly snorted a line off of the table top.
Micky shook his head quickly and sniffed hard - he'd become used to the sensation and his eyes weren't watering half as much as they had done the first couple of times he had done coke.
"You're becoming quite the pro." Tony commented as he watched over Micky.
Micky's head snapped into Tony's direction. "Why do you talk to me like I'm a fucking child?" He asked.
"Well, you do act like a bit of a brat. Maybe that's why." Tony replied, stretching his arms across the back of the couch.
Micky sneered at Tony. "If I'm such a brat, why do you want me around?"
Tony smiled. He sat forward and looked at Micky closely. "Because you're one of the prettiest boys I've ever seen." He said almost sincerely, although there was still that look of satisfaction in his eyes.
Micky felt strangely flattered by that comment - he'd always been a sucker for compliments before, and those words sounded nice. They sounded familiar.
"Has anyone ever told you that before?" Tony wondered.
Micky's stomach twisted and his heart skipped a beat. Yes, someone had told him that before - although he'd been told that he was the most beautiful boy instead of one of the most beautiful boys.
"Yes." Micky choked out, his earlier anger and aggression towards Tony now being replaced with sadness about Mike. "Yeah, I have."
Tony smiled. "That doesn't surprise me." He said.
Micky rubbed his nose with the palm of his hand and rose to his feet. He now felt anxious and uncomfortable in his own skin as thoughts of Mike started filling his head. Micky looked down at the bag of cocaine on the table. "Can I have that?" He asked.
Tony picked up the bag. "You want this?" He asked, standing up also.
Micky dipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. "How much?" He asked, opening his wallet and checking to see how much money he had inside. Micky was no expert, and he had no idea how much a bag of cocaine would cost - although he knew it was going to be expensive.
Tony laughed before taking hold of Micky's hand that was holding his wallet. "I don't think you have enough cash in there, Micky." He said.
Micky looked up at him in disappointment, pushing his wallet back into his pocket. "I can get you the money though; money isn't an issue. I don't have a lot on me right now but I have plenty at home." He said.
"I don't want your money." Tony replied with a smile as he took a step closer to Micky.
Micky gulped, staring Tony straight in the eye. "What do you want then?" He asked.
Tony's smile turned into a smirk. "You know what I want. And I think you want it too." He said, running the side of his finger down Micky's cheek.
Micky stared at Tony as he pondered his response - he was absolutely torn. Thoughts of Mike were beginning to dance around his head, but at the same time Micky could feel the cocaine kicking into his system already. Micky's positive thoughts of Mike telling him he was "the most beautiful boy he'd ever seen" were replaced with images of the Texan and Phyllis playing happy families. Micky thought back to when he saw Mike rubbing Phyllis' back lovingly in the club that night, and suddenly Micky was filled with hate and self-loathing.
"Do you want me to suck your dick?" Micky asked, totally nonchalant.
Tony smiled. "Would you like that?" He asked.
"No, not really." Micky thought.
Micky shrugged his shoulders. "Sure, why not." He said casually as if it was no big deal.
Tony smirked, his hands going straight to the buckle of his belt. "You're a good boy." He breathed.
Micky burst back into the main club on cloud nine, almost failing to notice Davy who was walking straight towards him.
"Where the hell have you been?" Davy questioned, striding up to his friend - he was obviously about to go looking for him.
"I'm right here!" Micky announced happily.
"You said you were going to get drinks but you disappeared." Davy said, a little annoyed.
"Well I'm back now." Micky grinned.
"You've been gone ages." Davy folded his arms.
"Oh Davy." Micky slung his arm around the shorter man's shoulders. "You need to loosen up. Let me get you a drink."
Davy looked at his friend suspiciously. "What's wrong with your eyes?"
Micky quickly withdrew his arm. "Nothing." He said a little defensively. "You ask too many questions."
"Maybe it's because you're acting weird." Davy hit back.
Micky was a little annoyed. "You're acting weird. I'm fine." He replied. "Actually, I'm better than fine - I'm totally great."
"Is that right?" Davy asked sarcastically.
Micky placed each of his hands on Davy's shoulders and bent down to look the Englishman straight in the face. "I'm better than great - I'm really, really good. And I want to tell you something. I want you to be the first to know, because you're my best friend. Have I ever told you that, Davy? You're my best friend in the whole wide world. And I want to tell you that-" Micky paused, looking around quickly. "I'm over Mike."
Davy glanced around. "You might not want to talk about that here." He said anxiously, fearful that someone would overhear them.
"But I wanted to tell you. I'm like, totally over him. I don't love him or want him or need him anymore. I don't care about him at all." Micky announced.
Davy raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?" He asked.
Micky pulled his hands away quickly, totally offended. "Don't you believe me?" He asked, his face falling.
"No, not really." Davy replied honestly. He looked totally bemused.
Micky was mortified. "Why don't you believe me?!" He asked, raising his voice.
"Alright, calm down." Davy said, looking around nervously - he was clearly disturbed by his friend's behaviour.
"Well do you believe me?" Micky questioned. He stepped forward and stared at Davy intently.
Davy looked completely unsure how to answer. "Er, alright. I believe you." He said, humouring Micky.
Micky breathed a dramatic sigh of relief. "Phew." He said, letting out a little laugh. "Let's get some drinks!"
"Micky, are you alright?" Davy asked, stepping closer to his friend. "Have you taken something?"
"No." Micky replied before the words had even finished leaving Davy's mouth. "Why- why would you think that?"
"Because you're acting even weirder than normal, your eyes are all watery and bloodshot, and you're sweating." Davy said, looking concerned. "Have you taken something, Mick? Who was that guy you were talking to at the bar before you disappeared?"
"No one!" Micky said defensively. "What's with- what's with all the questions? I'm fine. I just want to have a good time. Let's just get some more drinks and have some fun, yeah?"
Davy didn't look at all convinced but he decided to go along with it all the same in an attempt to keep the peace.
Over the next couple of hours Micky's strange behaviour was starting to get noticed by the rest of his friends as well as Davy.
Micky's initial happy mood wore off rapidly as he started to have his first come-down of the night, and that was when he snuck off to the men's toilets to sneak another line of cocaine to keep up his high.
Micky had ignored Davy's - and the rest of his friends - words of caution and continued to drink heavily. Micky went off into his own little world; to begin with he felt amazing, and he wasn't going to let anyone bring him down.
Micky was not only getting absolutely wasted, but he eventually started to have his second come-down of the night. He went from being loud and talkative - which the other's dismissed as him just being really drunk - to being incredibly quiet. He was becoming twitchy and nervous and was beginning to visibly sweat. This was when everyone started to realise that something was wrong.
"Micky, are you alright?" Ric asked from across the table.
Micky scratched his nose. "I'm fine." He snapped.
"You're sweating again." Davy commented. He was sitting right next to Micky and looked at his friend with genuine concern.
"I'm not sweating." Micky said defensively, looking insulted by that observation.
Micky quickly wiped his brow with the sleeve of his shirt, and that only succeeded in worrying his friends further.
"Micky, you're shaking." Davy said with a frown. "You did take something earlier, didn't you?"
Micky stood up so aggressively that his chair fell over behind him. "Why don't you all shut- shut up and leave me alone?" He said, raising his voice.
"Wow, chill out, man." His friend Ed said, holding his hands up. "Sit down. You're wasted."
"No! You're all staring at me. W-Why are you all staring at me?" Micky asked, totally paranoid.
Davy stood up to face his friend. "What did you take, Mick?" He asked in a calm tone.
"Nothing! I'm fine! Why are you all being weird?" Micky asked, stepping away from the table.
"Micky, calm down." Ric said from across the table.
"Don't- don't tell me what to do." Micky slurred before turning his back on his friends. Micky looked out into a club and felt horribly anxious. "Why is everyone looking at me?" He asked in an almost childlike fashion.
"Mate, no one is looking at you." Davy assured Micky. "How about I get you home, eh? I think you've had enough for one night."
Micky turned to look at Davy through his bloodshot eyes. He suddenly realised how sick he felt, and before either he or Davy knew what was happening, Micky leaned forward and threw up right in front of Davy, a little bit off vomit splashing his shoes.
"Oh Jesus Christ, Micky!" Davy shouted, holding his hands up as he jumped backwards.
Micky put his hand to his mouth and groaned dramatically. "I don't feel- I don't feel well."
"No shit you don't feel well." Davy said, attempting to shake the vomit off his shoe by kicking his foot. "These are me best shoes!"
"I think he's had enough." A big, burly bouncer said, approaching the table. "Get him out of here."
"I'm sorry. I'm s-sorry. I didn't mean to. I'm really sorry." Micky pleaded desperately - he looked like he was going to cry.
"Right, that's it." Davy said, striding up to Micky. Davy took hold of Micky's arm and slung it around his shoulders, wrapping his own arm around Micky's back to support him. "I'm getting you home."
"I'm sorry, Davy. I'm really sorry." Micky said, panic-stricken. "I-I'm so, so sorry. Please don't hate me."
"Micky, shut up. You're making a show of yourself." Davy told him as he dragged the much-taller man towards the exit of the club. "Nobody hates you."
"I hate me. I-I really hate me." Micky slurred, still sounding like he was about to burst into tears. "I hate myself."
"No you don't." Davy sighed, clearly a little embarrassed that everyone was now starring at them both.
"I didn't want to in the first place." Micky babbled. "But-but they made me and I did and-and I did it anyway."
"Micky, you're not making any sense. I have no idea what you're talking about." Davy said as he finally got Micky out of the club. Luckily for him, there was a cab waiting right outside. "Let's get you home, yeah?"
Micky woke up the next morning in a room he initially didn't recognise. It took him a few moments to realise he was in the spare bedroom at Davy and Linda's house. Micky once again felt hideously hung-over, and after a couple of minutes he rolled over and went straight back to sleep again.
Davy woke Micky a couple of hours later. Micky groaned when he opened his eyes and saw the Englishman hovering over him.
"Morning." Davy said in a slightly stern tone.
Micky rubbed his eyes before pulling himself into a sitting position. "What time is it?" He asked.
"Eleven." Davy replied. "Linda is cooking breakfast if you're interested."
"It's still so early." Micky groaned. "Why are you even up?"
"We need to talk about last night." Davy said firmly.
Micky stared at his friend and could see that Davy was clearly unimpressed about something. A horrible thought popped into Micky's mind and his eyes widened in shock as he put his hands to his mouth in horror. "Oh my god, I didn't try it on with you, did I?" He asked.
Davy looked disgusted. "Ew! No!" He replied.
"Oh thank god." Micky closed his eyes, sighing with relief.
"Why, do you want to try it on with me..?" Davy wondered, still looking totally grossed out.
"No way!" Micky virtually shouted. "That's disgusting. No offense, but you're like a brother or something. That'd be so wrong."
Now it was Davy's turn to look relieved. "Well thank Christ for that." He sighed.
Micky yawned. "What happened last night then?" He asked.
"You don't remember?" Davy questioned. "You threw up right in the middle of the club, all over my best shoes."
Micky was mortified - not to mention embarrassed. "Oh god, seriously?" He said as he tried to think back. "Davy, I'm so sorry. I'll pay to get them cleaned or get you some new ones."
"It doesn't matter; Linda said it could probably just...wipe off." Davy replied. He looked a little disgusted.
"Well if you want some new ones just tell me how much I owe you." Micky stressed.
"Look, I don't care about the shoes." Davy sighed, rolling his eyes. "Well... I do care about the shoes, but that's not what the issue is."
"What is the issue?" Micky wondered.
"What is the issue?" Davy repeated, looking annoyed. "The issue is you getting so off-your-tits drunk that you chuck-up in the middle of a bloody nightclub. And you weren't just drunk, either. We could tell you'd taken something."
"Taken what?" Micky asked, trying to play dumb.
"That's what I'm asking you." Davy said, narrowing his eyes. "You were acting really weird, even weirder than normal. Whatever it was clearly ended up having a bad effect on you."
"I was fine." Micky said bluntly. "I was just drunk. I don't see what the big deal is. I was just trying to have fun."
"It wasn't fun though." Davy said. He was getting visibly annoyed. "Did someone offer you a pill or something?"
"What's it to you anyway?" Micky asked. "Who cares if I did take something? It's not like you're so innocent, Davy. You've done shit before."
"Yeah, I dropped acid a couple of times but that was about it, and I have always known exactly what I've taken." Davy hit back. "I was always responsible about it, not that I do that kind of stuff anymore."
"Like there's such thing as responsible drug taking." Micky said, rolling his eyes.
"Getting fucked-up with your friends for a laugh is a bit different to taking drugs from strangers when you're depressed and miserable." Davy swiped. "That sort of behaviour can lead to all sorts of problems."
"I'm not depressed." Micky snapped. "I'm fine. I was having a good time. God, you sound like you're my guardian or something. Why did you even bring me back here in the first place if I'm such a big worry to you?"
"Because you were talking stupid, saying you hated yourself and all kinds of fucked-up shit like that." Davy hit back. "I thought you were going to start crying at one point; you were a bloody mess. You were sweating and shaking and there was no way I was going to leave you at your place on your own. Linda kept popping in to check on you all night. At one point she said you were having a horrible dream or something, and you were breathing so quick and heavy that she thought you were going to have a heart attack or something."
Micky's cheeks flushed red in embarrassment, and he looked down at the quilt that covered him. "I'm fine." He said again, although not as convincing as before.
Davy rolled his eyes. "Whatever, man. I just don't think this is the sort of behaviour of a man who's going to become a father in less than two months." He said with a hint of spite.
Micky's head snapped up. "Why won't you get off my back? Why are you always hassling me and questioning me all the time?"
"I'm trying to look out for you, but I don't really know why I bother." Davy said coldly. "You're clearly not interested in anything I've got to say. I might as well leave you to get on with it."
"Yeah, you might as well." Micky said bitterly.
Micky pulled the covers back and climbed out of bed. He was shirtless but still wearing his jeans, and he grabbed his shirt that was draped over a chair with his jacket.
"I don't know how many times I have to tell you that I'm fine." Micky went on as he pulled his shirt on. "I've just been through a break-up and all I'm trying to do is get on with my life and have some fun, but you're always there trying to bring me down, trying to tell me what to do."
Davy was stood there with his arms folded as Micky buttoned up his shirt. "You were the one who invited me out, Micky, and perhaps if you didn't act like such a lunatic I wouldn't have a problem with you! Didn't you hear me when I said you were almost crying last night? Almost blubbing in the middle of a club as if you were losing your goddamn marbles!"
"You're lying." Micky said, embarrassed. He finished buttoning his shirt.
"Well there were plenty of witnesses; you were making a right show of yourself." Davy spat. "You were shaking like a leaf and you could hardly stand. You were a state."
Micky ignored Davy and grabbed his jacket from the chair. As Micky picked it up, the little bag of cocaine that Tony had given him slipped out of the pocket and onto the floor between himself and Davy.
The two men paused as they both stared at the little bag of powder in front of them. By the time Micky's mind realised he needed to react, it was too late - Davy had already swooped down and grabbed the cocaine from the floor.
"Cocaine?" Davy asked, shocked and disgusted.
Micky held his hand out to Davy. "Give it to me." He said. He still felt embarrassed but now he was worried, too.
"Are you off your head, Micky?!" Davy shouted. "What the hell are you doing with this stuff?!"
"I-It's not mine." Micky said quickly. "I'm just looking after it for someone."
"Who?" Davy questioned, totally unconvinced. Micky looked at him blankly. "Who are you looking after it for?"
"No one. I mean- a friend. I'm looking after it for a friend." Micky replied, his heart pounding.
"Which friend?" Davy pressed.
"It's none of your business!" Micky shouted, distressed that Davy didn't seem to believe him. "Just give it back to me."
"No chance." Davy said firmly, standing his ground. "Do you have any idea what'd happen if you got caught with this, Micky? Not to mention what this stuff does to people!"
"It's fine!" Micky hit back. "Please, it's totally under control. I'm just looking after it for someone."
"Oh pull the other one, Micky. I know you used it last night, it's obvious now!" Davy fumed. "This stuff ruins people's lives, I've seen it before! Have you totally forgotten that you're about to become a father, Micky? Imagine if Samantha knew you were doing hard drugs, walking around with a bag of cocaine in your pocket. Do you really think she'd let you anywhere near your kid if she knew that?"
Micky started to panic. "She's not going to find out!" He shouted, holding his hand out to Davy again. "Just give it back to me, Davy! You have no reason to keep it!"
"I'm not going to keep it, I'm going to flush it down the bloody toilet!" Davy shouted, walking in direction of the en-suite bathroom.
"No, Davy don't!" Micky shouted, grabbing hold of Davy's arm and trying to snatch the cocaine from Davy's grasp.
"Get off me." Davy said, shrugging Micky off of him.
"But it's mine!" Micky shouted.
Davy paused, and Micky closed his eyes in frustration, furious that he'd let those words leave his mouth.
"Oh that's funny, because a minute ago it was someone else's." Davy said sarcastically.
Micky looked defeated. "Please, Davy." He said gently. "You have nothing to worry about. I don't use it often, just-just now and then when I'm feeling low. It's not a big deal."
"Not a big deal?" Davy repeated. "Micky, how do you think addictions start? You may not be hooked just yet but if you carry on dabbling in it then you could end up with a serious problem. Everyone already thinks you have a drinking problem, you really don't need this on top of everything else."
"I don't have a drinking problem." Micky said, looking and feeling upset by Davy's accusations. "I'm fine."
"Stop saying you're fine." Davy snapped. "Everyone can see you're not fine. You spend every single day getting yourself drunk when you should be preparing for Christmas with your family and the birth of your baby next month. When was the last time you even spent a day with your mum or your little sisters? Not to mention your pregnant ex-girlfriend, who, by the way, still thinks you don't give a shit about her or the baby anymore."
"That's not true." Micky whispered.
"You're so wrapped up in yourself Micky, it's pathetic." Davy said bitterly. "And you say it's none of my business? Well, apart from being your friend we are still technically in a band together, remember. Mike might have fucked-off and left us on our own because of you but I did still hope that me and you could carry on as a two piece. But I might as well kiss that idea goodbye because all you care about right now is yourself."
"Well if I'm such a screw up then don't even bother giving me the time of day anymore!" Micky shouted, getting seriously worked up. "Just give me my stuff and I'll get out of your hair and you never have to see me again."
Davy laughed sarcastically. "You think I'm giving this back to you?" He asked, holding up the bag of cocaine. "You must be joking."
Micky watched as Davy strode into the en-suite bathroom, and Micky followed the shorter man inside. Davy stood in front of the sink and opened the bag of cocaine. He held it up over the sink as if he was teasing Micky.
"You wouldn't dare." Micky tested, standing in the doorway as he waited for Davy's next move.
"Oh wouldn't I?" Davy asked.
"I can get more." Micky said, trying to sound like he didn't care.
"So you won't mind if I do this then?" Davy asked, tipping the little bag up so the cocaine poured into the basin.
Micky instinctively leapt forward, but Davy was quick to turn the tap on, washing the coke down the sink.
Micky could only watch as the white powder was washed down the plug-hole, and his hands went to his head in horror.
Davy scrunched up the empty bag and chucked it on the floor aggressively. "There. It looks like I did dare after all." He said coolly.
Davy pushed past Micky and out of the bathroom. Micky looked into the bowl in vain hope of there being some powder left over, but there was nothing. Micky was more hurt than angry, and he followed Davy back into the bedroom.
"Why are you being such an asshole?" Micky asked, his voice shaking.
Davy turned around to face his friend. "I'm trying to help you, you idiot!" He said, throwing his hands in the air. "Can't you see what you're doing to yourself?"
"I don't care!" Micky shouted. "Don't you get it? I don't care what I'm doing to myself!"
"I can't believe that Mike, that fucking Mike has reduced you to a lying, self-involved, drunken coke-head twat!" Davy shouted. "And I bet I don't even know the half of it!"
"You don't, you don't know the half of it!" Micky shouted. "You don't know what I did to get that cocaine in the first place!"
Davy looked appalled. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?!" He asked.
"Fuck you, Davy!" Micky shouted. "Just leave me alone and let me get on with my life the way I want to get on with it!"
"Fine!" Davy shouted, grabbing Micky's jacket from the chair and throwing it at him forcefully. "Get the fuck out of my house, that's the last time I bother to try and help you. But you can kiss goodbye to what's left of our band, not to mention that unborn kid of yours. And don't come crying to me when you end up with nobody. No wonder Mike couldn't wait to get rid of you."
Micky wanted to cry. He turned around quickly and was met with a concerned looking Linda who was standing in the doorway, clearly having heard the raised voices from downstairs.
"Micky..?" Linda said gently.
"Thanks for letting me stay." Micky said quietly before gently pushing past her and hurrying down the stairs.
Micky left Davy's house feeling lonely, depressed and emotional. He still felt a bit fucked up from the previous night, which didn't help his mood, and Micky was so hurt by the things Davy had said - even though he was pretty sure the Englishman probably didn't mean them.
Micky ended up walking home. Davy didn't live too far away so the walk probably helped in sobering Micky up. But Micky felt like a shell. He felt like a broken and beaten shell with nothing much left inside. Micky knew things needed to change - he'd known that for a while. He knew he needed to curb his drinking and take better care of himself. He knew he needed to focus on Samantha and the baby and let go of his feelings for Mike. Micky knew all of those things, but he didn't feel like he had the strength or the willpower to do them.