Micky had now been awake for seven days and he was becoming increasingly frustrated at being cooped up in a hospital room. While he'd managed to get out of bed for the first time a few days before, he hadn't really been able to walk further than the bathroom; or at least he hadn't been allowed to even attempt to walk further than that.
While Micky's spirits were still high and his outlook on life was a lot more positive than it had been before the accident, Micky's physical state was seriously starting to get him down, and he hated being stuck in a body that was in such a bad condition.
However, Micky had been totally moved by the response of his family and friends and he was even receiving well-wishes from people he hadn't heard from in months. Even his former band mate Peter - who was now living in New York - had sent him a lovely hamper of health foods to "help him on his road to recovery".
Micky was also overwhelmed by the response of his fans. The media had gotten wind of Micky's accident a few days before and once the news of his condition had become public he had been constantly receiving flowers, cards and gifts from his concerned fans. Micky's room was filled with flowers and cards, and Micky was completely touched by people's kindness and well-wishes, especially as he hadn't been in the public eye for several months now.
Micky had finally been told that he could be discharged from hospital the following day. Micky was so relieved to be finally going home, although he wasn't actually going back to his home. Instead, Micky was going to be staying with his mother until he was fit enough to look after himself.
But for now Micky was spending his final day in hospital, and he'd been joined by Samantha and Ami. Although Micky had seen Ami several times over the past week, he hadn't seen Samantha much at all. It was Janelle who had brought Ami to see him most days as Samantha had "been busy." And while Micky was desperately trying to make small talk with his ex-girlfriend, he was more than aware that something was bothering Samantha.
"Are you alright, Sammy?" Micky asked as he sat with Ami on his lap.
"Yeah, why?" Samantha wondered.
"I don't know... I feel like I've done something to upset you but I don't know what." Micky replied. "I've hardly seen you this week."
"I told you, I've been busy." Samantha replied. "I haven't wanted to smother you. You've had enough visitors without me as well."
Micky frowned. "I don't buy it." He said. "There's something up and I wanna know what it is."
Samantha looked away and sighed.
"You did believe me, didn't you?" Micky asked. "When I told you I wasn't drunk when I had my accident. You do believe me, right?"
Samantha looked a little unsure. "Yeah... I guess so."
"Because I promise I'm telling the truth." Micky said with a frown. "And I mean it when I say I'm going to clean up my act. I know why you haven't let me see Ami much since you moved out, and I totally understand it. I get why you haven't been able to trust me, but I promise you that things are going to be different now."
Samantha looked at Micky with uncertainty.
"I know it's a cliché to say that having a near death experience changes your outlook on life, but it's actually totally true." Micky continued. "Being told I nearly died has changed everything. It's shown me that life is precious but it can be short and I don't want to waste any more time being screwed up."
Samantha's eyes fell into her lap. "I really hope that's true, Micky." She said quietly.
"It is." Micky stressed. "I've wasted the past six months of my life being miserable and being so hung up on my hang ups, and they could've been the last few months of my life. I've wasted time I could've been spending with my daughter being drunk, and that's not okay. I don't want to be that person anymore. I'm sorry it's taken all of this to knock some sense into me, but I swear that things will be different from now on. I'm going to change... for good."
Samantha stared at Micky as if she was trying to read his mind. "I believe you." She said.
"Good, because I'm telling you the truth." Micky said. "My life could've been over... and even though I didn't know anything about it, seeing how it's affected everyone else and hearing about how scared you all were to lose me... it seriously puts things into perspective."
Micky watched Samantha as she picked at her fingernail. He had been thinking so much over the past week about his life and the choices he'd made, and Micky felt absolutely determined to try and get his life back on track once and for all. He knew he needed to figure out how to be stronger.
Micky tilted his head to the side, knowing full-well that there was still something that was getting Samantha down. "I know I've done a really shitty job of communicating with you lately," He said. "But I'm being totally honest with you now. Although I don't feel like you're being honest with me."
Samantha looked up.
"What's wrong, Sammy?" Micky asked, feeling genuinely concerned. "I know there's something getting to you and I want to know what it is. I want us to be a team again like we were when we were living together. I know we're not living together anymore and that's fine, but still... I still want us to be a team for Ami's sake. And if we're a team we need to keep communicating with each other."
Samantha stared at Micky for several moments before she finally spoke. "You weren't communicating with me when you failed to tell me about Mike."
Micky was gobsmacked and his heart skipped a beat - how could she possibly know about Mike?
"Wha- what?" Micky asked, his voice rising in pitch.
"I was with you when you first came around," Samantha begun, looking Micky straight in the eye. "And as you were waking up you kept saying Mike's name."
Micky obviously had no recollection of this and he started to panic. "S-So?" He laughed nervously. "I was barely conscious; I was on tons of drugs... It doesn't mean anything."
"I saw him with you." Samantha stated, still staring at Micky as if she was waiting for him to crack. "He was right here, sitting next to your bed, holding your hand, stroking your hair and begging you to wake up."
Micky's mouth dropped open and he stared at Samantha totally stunned. Not only was Micky shocked to learn that Samantha knew about his relationship with Mike, but he was stunned to find out that Mike had been at his bedside doing those things. Micky tried not to get too swept up on that fact and concentrate on the matter at hand.
"Well-well that-that doesn't mean anything." Micky stammered quickly in his feeble attempt to convince Samantha she was wrong. "I-I don't know why he did that. I-I was unconscious. I didn't know he did that."
"He didn't even try to deny it, so there's no point you trying to deny it either." Samantha told him.
Micky's heart was pounding in his chest and he stared at his ex-girlfriend with wide eyes - he knew the cat was well and truly out of the bag now.
"I'm sorry." Micky whispered in defeat after a few seconds of silence.
"Why didn't you just tell me from the start?" Samantha asked.
Micky shrugged his shoulders. "It was bad enough as it was without you knowing everything." He replied. "I didn't think it mattered... We were over. We are over... I didn't think it was important who exactly I was with."
"How can you say that?" Samantha questioned.
"I thought it'd make it harder because you knew him too." Micky continued. "I didn't want you to have to keep his secret as well as mine. You know Phyllis... I know you're not exactly friends, but you speak to her when you see her. I didn't want to put you in that position. It was complicated enough already."
"So you're saying you kept it from me for my benefit?" Samantha asked.
"Your benefit, his benefit, my benefit..." Micky said honestly. "I was trying to protect all of us."
A silence fell upon the pair and Micky looked at Ami who he was holding in a sitting position on his lap. Micky was shocked by how calm and in control he felt; if this was a couple of months ago he was sure he would be babbling, nervous mess if the truth had come out.
"I'm really sorry." Micky sighed. "I was trying to do what was right."
Samantha was silent as she seemed to ponder Micky's reasoning. She didn't look angry anymore, and she didn't look too sad either. Micky was surprised she wasn't shouting the room down.
"Why didn't you tell me you knew?" Micky asked. "I've known all week that something was up with you."
"Mike told me not to say anything right away." Samantha replied. "He said you didn't need the stress as soon as you woke up, and I think he was right."
Micky had no idea how to feel about that response, but he couldn't help but feel touched that Mike was still apparently looking out for him. Micky looked down as he started to play with one of Ami's little feet.
"He's still in love with you, you know." Samantha said out of the blue.
Micky's head snapped up and he stared at Samantha who was watching him closely.
"H-How do you know that?" Micky asked as his palms started to sweat.
Samantha shrugged. "It was obvious." She replied softly.
Micky gulped and looked around the room as he tried to gather his thoughts. Not only was he stunned by what Samantha had said, but he was shocked by the fact that she'd even actually said it.
"This has to be it now, Micky." Samantha said, snapping Micky out of his thoughts. Micky steadied his focus on his former girlfriend. "No more lies."
Micky nodded slowly. "No more lies." He agreed. "I swear, you know everything there is to know now."
Now it was Samantha's turn to nod, and she gazed at Micky with what almost looked like sympathy. The former couple shared a moment of understanding, looking at each other with both sorrow and regret.
"I understand why it was so hard for you now." Samantha told him.
Micky tilted his head to the side as he and Samantha continued to stare at each other.
"I'm so sorry, Sammy." Micky finally said in little more than a whisper.
Samantha smiled sadly. "I'm sorry too." She said.
Samantha dragged her chair closer and stretched over the bed as Micky hesitantly leaned forward also, attempting to not cause himself too much pain. Samantha gently wrapped one arm around Ami to support her and the other arm around her ex-boyfriend as Micky clutched one hand to his stomach to comfort the pain of his wound. Micky slung his free arm around Samantha's back and pulled her into a rather physically awkward yet meaningful hug.
The former couple embraced - with their baby daughter between them - and Micky could feel the love between the three of them warm his tired and fragile body from the inside out. Micky felt exceptionally grateful that once again Samantha had managed to be so understanding, but he'd also been able to tell from the look in her eye that she understood his reasons for keeping the truth about Mike to himself for all this time. On many levels, Micky knew that he and Samantha were closer than ever, and he knew that there was no way he was ever going to do anything to risk breaking the bond between them. From now on, Micky knew he had to be a hundred percent honest with Samantha.
When Samantha and Micky finally parted, the ex-couple smiled at each other before looking down at Ami who was looking up at them both in what looked like mild confusion, causing them both to laugh at their daughter's face.
"She looks just like you when you're confused." Samantha laughed, sniffing hard.
"Well it doesn't take a lot to confuse me, to be fair." Micky joked in response. He looked up at Samantha and smiled at her lovingly. "Have I ever told you how lucky I am?"
"Lucky?" Samantha asked, wiping her eyes.
"Yeah," Micky replied sincerely. "I don't think I've ever told you how lucky I am that you're the mother of my child. There's no way I could ever want or wish for a better mom for Ami, and there's no way I could ever want to share this with anybody else. You're the most amazing woman I know."
Samantha looked away, clearly embarrassed and a little emotional. "Micky..."
"I mean it." Micky stated firmly. "I don't know what I did to deserve you." He looked down at Ami. "To deserve both of you. I'm the luckiest guy in the world and I need to start realising that."
Samantha sniffed. "Well, believe it or not, we feel pretty lucky to have you too." She smiled. "Especially as we came so close to losing you."
"Well it'll take more than a motorcycle crash to get rid of me." Micky smiled, leaning forward and stroking a stray hair out of Samantha's face. "You're both stuck with me for good."
The following three weeks were pretty strange for Micky. After being discharged from hospital Micky moved back in with his mother, step-father and his little sisters while he started his road to recovery. The pain medication Micky was on now wasn't as strong as it had been while he was in hospital, and Micky felt himself in discomfort pretty much all the time.
While Micky felt better about himself and the world around him than he had done before the accident, Micky did find himself back to thinking about Mike almost constantly without the distraction of booze. Since learning that Mike had been at his bedside while he was unconscious and Samantha telling him that Mike was "still in love" with him, Micky really didn't know what to think or believe anymore.
Micky often thought back to when Mike had visited him and he was frustrated that he'd been so cranky because of the drugs he was on. He remembered the tension in the room and how Mike especially seemed to be on edge even though he was the one who decided to come visit. Micky wondered how the conversation would've gone if he wasn't so high on his pain medication, and he wondered if simply checking up on Micky was the only thing Mike wanted that day. What if he'd come to say something else? And would he have said it if Micky hadn't become so drowsy and fallen asleep?
Micky wondered if Samantha had gotten it all wrong; he had just assumed that Mike had gotten over him a long time ago and hadn't let himself even consider the thought that Mike might still be in love with him.
But Micky remembered the day they broke up and how Mike had vowed to love him forever. And why would Mike have been holding his hand and stroking his hair when he was unconscious if he only cared about him as a friend or an ex?
Micky felt like he needed to accept the fact that even if Mike was still in love with him, it didn't necessarily mean he wanted them to get back together - although that was a bitter pill for Micky to swallow.
Micky had tried to talk to Davy about it. Micky was aware that Mike and Davy had spoken while he was unconscious in hospital, but Davy was very coy about what had been said and would often change the subject when Mike popped up in conversation. Micky was frustrated that Davy seemed to be holding back, but he was relieved that Davy's frostiness towards the Texan seemed to have thawed at least. Micky was so used to Davy making catty comments and using any excuse to be negative about Mike that it was a nice change to have Davy being quiet on the subject for once. Still, Micky was a little rattled that he was out of the loop but he had a feeling he just needed to get on with it.
It had now been a month since Micky's accident, and the curly-haired man was finally back at his house after just over two weeks of staying with his family. Micky was relieved to finally have some peace and quiet; as wonderful Janelle had been, Micky couldn't help but feel utterly smothered by his mother and he was looking forward to getting back to normal again.
Or trying to get back to normal, at least.
Micky was no longer feeling depressed like he had been before the accident. Instead Micky actually felt pretty numb. He didn't know if was the pain medication he was on, or whether he'd just become immune to his problems over the course of time, but Micky found himself ticking along just fine for the first few days he spent back at his house. He was far from perfect, but he was alright. Not good, not bad, but somewhere safe in the middle.
So Micky was taking it easy as he tried to discover himself all over again, his gratitude for being alive making him re-evaluate his life and the decisions he made. He'd gotten rid of almost all the booze from his house and was completely determined not to go down the route of using alcohol as an attempt to combat his problems again.
Micky was lying on the couch watching TV early one evening when he was disturbed by a knock at the door. Micky sighed, knowing full-well who the visitor would be; his mother.
Micky's mom had been dropping by constantly since Micky had moved back to his place only a few days before, and even when she wasn't stopping by she was calling him to check up on him. As frustrating as it was, Micky understood why his mother was being so protective; at the end of the day, Micky knew he'd be just the same with Ami.
Micky awkwardly pulled himself off of the couch, wincing as he rose to his feet. His scar was heeling nicely, but it was still causing him discomfort when he made certain movements. Micky slowly walked into the hall and approached the front door as he wondered what excuse his mother would make for coming over this time - especially when she'd already stopped by earlier that day.
But when Micky opened the door, it wasn't his mother standing on his doorstep.
It was Mike.
Just like when Mike visited Micky in hospital that day, Micky was absolutely stunned to see the Texan. Micky found himself blinking hard, half expecting that when he opened his eyes again Mike would be gone. But he wasn't.
"Are you alone?" Mike asked, unable to look Micky directly in the face.
Micky nodded. "Yeah." He replied softly.
"I need to talk to you." Mike said in a quiet voice.
"O-Okay."
Micky stepped aside to let Mike into the house, and the two men silently walked into Micky's lounge. Micky went to the TV and turned it off, not wanting any distractions. His heart was pounding and his palms were starting to sweat as his mind raced with thoughts of what Mike could possible want to talk about.
Micky finally turned to face Mike and looked at him expectantly.
Mike stood there, his usual tall and proud demeanour non-existent. Instead, Mike looked small and fragile. Micky's breathing started to get heavy as he looked at his former lover with a mixture of fear, sadness, happiness and regret. Micky was nervous, and he felt his body start to tremble anxiously.
"I can't do this anymore." Mike finally said.
"D-Do what?" Micky asked innocently.
There was a short, tense silence.
"Not have you know how I feel." Mike replied.
Mike finally managed to lift his eyes to actually look at Micky's face. Mike's eyes looked sad and desperate, and Micky could almost feel his heart break at seeing Mike look so upset.
"I got it wrong." Mike said in little more than a whisper. "I got it so, so wrong. I thought I was doin' the right thing by making decisions for you. I tried to control you. I was so wrapped up in what I thought was best for you that I never let you decide what was best for yourself." Mike's voice shook as he spoke, but as fragile as he looked, his voice also carried weight and determination despite his obvious nerves. "I should've trusted you," He continued. "I should've let you make your own decisions, your own mistakes... I was trying to protect you, but I was wrong. I-I was wrong. I thought I knew what was best for you and what would make you most happy. I didn't think you'd be happy if you told your mom, or if you stayed with me... and instead of just lettin' you do it I took the decision out of your hands because I thought that was what was best for you. But I shouldn't have done that... I was the one who made a mistake."
Mike's gaze faltered for a moment as he took a short breath, but Micky's eyes remained wide and fixed on the Texan.
"I know I have no right to ask you for forgiveness." Mike went on, still currently unable to look at Micky. "I have no right to expect you to have me back. I lied to myself... I was stupid, and I believed that you'd be okay. That was the only way I could do what I did, because I thought you'd be better off without me. If I could turn the clock back and stop you from falling for me then I would." Mike looked up. "Not because I regret a single moment I've ever spent with you because I don't. Those months we had together were the happiest of my life and I would never change them. But...but if you didn't love me so much I wouldn't have had the power to hurt you the way I did, and that is what I regret. That is what I will hate myself for until I go to my grave. Breaking your heart was the worst thing I've ever done and the hardest thing I ever did."
Mike took another short breath. "I convinced myself you'd be okay but I was wrong. I wanted something that doesn't exist; I wanted the perfect life. Or...well... I wanted you to have the perfect life. I wanted you to have the perfect relationship with me, with all the extras...I didn't want you to ever have to suffer because of me and because of who we are and because of our relationship. I wanted to spare you from all of that but the only way I could do that was to spare you from me too."
Micky's breathing was so loud he felt like it was echoing around the room.
"Seeing you in that hospital bed... I thought I was going to lose you." Mike said quietly, his voice trembling as he locked eyes with Micky. "I thought you were gonna go somewhere I couldn't follow. And then I realised you couldn't, because if you left the world then I'd come with you. There's nowhere you could go where I wouldn't follow, because I can't live without you."
Micky felt a lump rise in his throat as he stared at Mike through eyes filled with love. Micky watched as Mike's face seemed to soften, and the Texan took a step closer to the stunned curly-haired man.
"I wouldn't blame you if you punched me in the face or told me to get outta your house right now," Mike said, staring Micky straight in the eye. "But for the first time I'm gonna do somethin' that I should've done a long time ago, and I'm gonna give you the choice. I'm gonna let you decide what you want, what you need... and whatever it is, I'll respect it. If you want me to go, I'll go, and I swear I'll never trouble you again. But if you want me to stay... if you think for even a second that I could still make you happy, then by god... I swear I will never let you go."
Micky felt his bottom lip begin to wobble.
"I love you." Mike whispered, stepping forward and gazing at Micky in that hypnotic way he always used to. "I never stopped. Not for a second, not for a moment. And I'm sorry. I am so sorry. I'm sorry for what I put you through. You could never hate me more than I hate myself."
"I don't hate you." Micky whispered.
Mike stepped forward once more, and now the Texan was standing right in front of Micky. Micky chewed the inside of his bottom lip as he tried to get it to stop wobbling, but there was nothing to stop the tears from threatening his eyes.
Mike reached out slowly and hesitantly, as if he was about to touch a wild animal he was scared of attacking him or frightening away. But Micky stood there, frozen to the spot, as Mike gently touched the side of his face.
"My beautiful boy..." Mike whispered, clearly smitten with the curly-haired man in front of him. His eyes were also beginning to shimmer with tears. "When I heard about your accident I thought my heart had stopped."
Micky reached up and carefully placed his hand on top of Mike's, leaning in to the Texan's touch and closing his eyes slowly. Micky felt a tear roll down his cheek which was carefully wiped away by Mike's thumb.
When Micky opened his eyes again, Mike was still there, staring at him with that same look of love that Micky had seen a million times before. Now though, it felt more real than ever. It was pure, it was deep and it was real.
"Whatever you want," Mike whispered. "It's yours."
Micky locked eyes with Mike for a moment before slowly leaning forward and wrapping his arms around the slightly taller man's neck. Mike reciprocated, gently sliding his long arms around Micky's slim frame and resting his hands lovingly on Micky's back.
Micky buried his face in the crook of Mike's neck, smelling the scent he'd dreamed of a million times since they had broken up. Although Micky still had Mike's Triumph t-shirt up in his bedroom, the piece of clothing had long since lost the Texan's scent.
Micky knew there was a lot to talk about and probably a lot of questions that needed to be asked and answered, but for this moment at least, there was nothing to say. For now, Micky didn't want to talk. Micky just wanted to be. And Micky just wanted to be with Mike.
When Micky felt Mike's fingers start stroking his hair, he felt goosebumps. Micky felt like he'd been told he had survived all over again. He was still scared, but he was okay. He was alive.
Micky eventually pulled back, his initial dream-like state passing him. Micky wasn't smiling, and instead he looked at Mike with total seriousness in spite of the joy that was beginning to bubble in the pit of his stomach. Micky had grown up a lot over the last seven months, and if he'd learnt anything at all it was to not jump the gun and take anything for granted.
"Is this what you want?" Micky asked with surprising confidence.
Mike tilted his head to the side. "Do you really need to ask?"
"Yes." Micky nodded, his voice still wobbly and his eyes still filled with tears. "Because I don't just want you here because you-you feel guilty or because you feel sorry for me or anything. I-I want you to want this too."
Mike touched Micky's face again as he smiled at his boy tenderly. He leaned in so the tip of his nose was gently pressed against Micky's. "I will want you to the moon and back." He whispered whole-heartedly. "And when the world stops turning, I will still love you."
Micky stared deep into Mike's dark brown eyes.
"I-I can't have you leave me again." Micky said in a small, shaky voice.
"Never." Mike whispered, pressing his forehead against Micky's and closing his eyes. "Nothin' could take me away from you, not this time."
Micky's lip started to wobble again.
"It's always been for you, Mick." Mike whispered, caressing the side of Micky's face. "Everythin' will always be for you. Always."
Micky nodded slowly in understanding and acceptance. "This is it now then. N-No more wasting time."
"This is it." Mike agreed, opening his eyes to look at Micky's boyish face. "You and me."
Micky's eyes remained locked on the Texan's. "I love you."
"I love you too, Mick." Mike said.
Micky started to feel butterflies flutter in his stomach when he noticed the Texan's eyes move down to look at his lips. Micky gulped as Mike moved his face even closer so they were barely an inch a part. Micky could hear his heart pound in his chest, and he glanced down at Mike's mouth, knowing full-well what was going to happen next. Mike's hand still lovingly stroked Micky's cheek, and slowly but surely Mike and Micky's lips met.
Micky felt like he'd never been kissed before. He was nervous and excited and almost felt a little awkward which was strange seeing as he and Mike had kissed a thousand times before. But as soon as Micky felt Mike's lips impact his, he felt an explosion inside of him that almost took his breath away.
The kiss was slow and small and short and sweet, but it was filled with love. The kiss spoke volumes despite the simplicity of it, and after maybe only five seconds, Micky and Mike pulled apart. They gazed at each other before a pair of giddy, almost shy smiles hit both of their mouths. Micky looked down bashfully, but Mike's eyes remained locked on the curly haired man. When Micky lifted his head again he could see the Texan watching him lovingly.
Mike once again lightly grazed Micky's cheek with the side of his finger. "You look tired." He said.
"The pain meds I'm on now make me feel pretty drowsy," Micky sniffed, looking down at himself and carefully touching his scar through his t-shirt. "Although they don't make me feel high anymore."
Mike looked down to where Micky's hand was. "How is it?" He asked, referring to where Micky had had his operation.
"It's healing good. I don't have to wear a dressing on it anymore and it hurts way less than it did." Micky replied.
Mike slowly reached out and lightly rested his hand on top of Micky's. "Can I see it?"
"No." Micky said a little defensively, instinctively taking a step backwards. He was surprised by his reaction and looked up at Mike sympathetically. "Sorry," He said. "It's just uncomfortable."
"It's okay." Mike reassured Micky. "You don't have to show me."
The couple were silent for a moment, and Micky watched as a sad frown covered Mike's face. "I thought I might lose you." Mike said quietly.
"Well I'm not planning on crashing my motorcycle again." Micky promised, tilting his head to the side. "I'm gonna take care of myself from now on."
Mike looked a mixture of pleased and uncomfortable. "You've uh, you've stopped drinking..?" He said - though it was more of a statement than a question.
Micky frowned in surprise. "Yeah... how do you know about that?"
"I've been talkin' to Davy these past few weeks," Mike admitted, reaching out and playing with one of Micky's curls almost absent-mindedly. "He's been keepin' me updated, telling me how you're doin'. I was waiting for him to tell me you'd left your mom's so I could come see ya."
"Why didn't you visit me sooner?" Micky wondered.
"I didn't think I should while you were stayin' at your ma's." Mike replied. "Plus I didn't want to stress you out or give you anythin' else to think about. I just wanted you to focus on your recovery and gettin' better again, so Davy kept me updated instead."
Micky felt genuinely surprised - but he was also moved that Mike had been checking up on him. "I didn't think you and Davy even liked each other." He said, a little amused.
Mike raised his eyebrows. "Well he ain't part of my fan club, that's for sure." He said with a little laugh. "But I get it. He's your buddy and I hurt ya."
Micky's expression turned serious and he looked up at Mike sympathetically. "I understand, you know," He begun. "Why you left me, that is. And I never hated you, not even once... Well, that's not the truth; I thought I hated you for a while there, in the beginning... But I didn't, not really. I wanted to hate you, but when I figured it all out I realised I just really missed you."
Micky paused for a moment while Mike watched him intently. "But I understood, eventually." Micky continued. "I understand why you left me and I don't blame you. I made things so hard for you... I was always asking for more, always pressuring you about stuff. About going to Texas after your grandma died, about wanting to come to the funeral, about wanting to tell my mom... I just never let things be. I pushed you so hard that I totally pushed you away altogether."
"No you didn't." Mike said, cocking his head to the side.
"Yes I did." Micky said firmly. "I'm trying to tell you that I understand why you did what you did. I get why you didn't think I'd cope with shit... I know you were only trying to do what was best for me."
Mike nodded slowly. "Well that is true." He said.
"I think we're both responsible for what happened." Micky said quietly.
Mike looked at Micky for a moment before opening his arms to him. "Come here." He said.
Micky stepped forward into Mike's arms, and the couple embraced once again. The slightly tense atmosphere that filled the room before seemed to lift, and Mike and Micky both relaxed in each other's arms. When the couple eventually pulled apart, they smiled at each other.
"This feels right, doesn't it?" Mike asked, his hands resting on Micky's hips.
"It does." Micky nodded with a smile. "It feels like it always should've been."
"We have so much to catch up on." Mike sighed contently.
Micky's smiled faded at that comment, and he felt a pang of dread in his stomach as he thought about exactly what Mike wanted to 'catch up on'.
"You're a daddy now." Mike continued. He clearly hadn't picked up on Micky's initial discomfort and he continued to beam at his boy.
Micky instantly relaxed. "Yeah." He said with a little laugh. "Can you believe it?"
Mike continued to smile. "I told you I met Ami, didn't I?" He asked.
"Yeah, when you visited me in the hospital." Micky replied. He sighed a little guiltily. "I'm sorry about that, by the way. I'm sorry if I was kinda weird and made you feel awkward."
"Hey, you don't have to apologise for nothin'." Mike assured him, stroking his hair gently.
"Were you planning on asking for me back then..?" Micky wondered.
Mike shrugged his shoulders. "Honestly? I have no idea." He took hold of Micky's hand and led him to the couch where both men sat down next to each other. "The only thing I knew was that I needed to see for myself that you were alright."
Micky smiled, looking into his lap. He sighed contently.
"But I don't wanna talk about that," Mike continued, causing Micky to look up. "I wanna talk about that daughter of yours."
Micky's smile grew.
"She really is somethin' special." Mike went on. "I know I only saw her for a couple of minutes, but I could tell she was special. She totally took my breath away."
Micky was genuinely touched. "Well I'm lucky she looks like her mom." He said. "She's lucky she looks like her mom."
"She looks like you too, Mick." Mike said, giving the curly-haired man a knowing smile. "I think it's the eyes. She has the same sparkle in her eyes that you have."
Micky's smile softened. "I love her so much." He said. "You were right when you told me that once I held her in my arms it would all make sense."
Mike started stroking Micky's hair again. "I can't believe you named her Ami Bluebell." He said. "The Bluebell part... when I heard that's what you called her I felt my heart hit the floor."
"I told you I wanted to call her Bluebell." Micky said, raising his eyebrows knowingly.
"I know ya did," Mike said. "But I didn't think you would. I'm glad you did though, because it really suits her."
Micky smiled before letting out a yawn that he'd been trying to fight. Once he'd finished yawning he laughed. "Sorry," He said. "I'm normally in bed by now."
Mike continued to stroke Micky's hair in comfort. "You should go to bed then," He said. "You do look tired, baby."
"I've been exhausted since my accident." Micky sighed. "I mean, I'm much better than I was but it stills sucks."
"Well it was pretty major what you went through, babe." Mike said seriously. "You did nearly- we did nearly lose ya. It's bound to have an effect on your body for a while."
Micky nodded, yawning again.
"Go to bed, Mick." Mike told him. "The more you rest, the better you'll feel."
"Resting is all I've been doing lately." Micky sighed, rubbing his eyes. "But I think you're right. It's past my bedtime." He giggled.
Mike smiled lovingly, still stroking Micky's curly hair.
Micky's face turned serious. "Do you... do you want to stay with me..?" He asked nervously.
Mike's smile grew. "Of course I do." He replied.
Micky matched Mike's smile for a moment until fear of what was expected of him popped into his head. Micky's smile quickly faded and he looked at Mike awkwardly. "I er, I can't-" Micky started to make strange gestures with his hands as Mike looked at him in confusion. "I-I can't... do anything... Not yet." Micky cringed as the words left him mouth and he felt totally embarrassed.
Mike tilted his head to the side, cottoning on to what Micky meant. He gave Micky another one of his reassuring smiles. "That don't matter, Mick." He said gently.
Micky looked down at himself and rubbed his scar through his t-shirt. "It's still- it's still a bit sore."
"Mick, you don't need to explain." Mike told him. "It don't matter. We don't have to do anythin'. I just want to be with ya."
Micky smiled, feeling more at ease. "Sorry." He said in a small voice - although he wasn't too sure what he was actually apologising for.
"Don't be sorry." Mike laughed. He rose to his feet and reached a hand out to Micky. "Come on," He said. "Let's go to bed."
Mike and Micky walked upstairs to Micky's bedroom. As soon as they were inside, Mike looked around the room as if he was home for the first time in months.
"I've really missed this place," Mike said, running his hand along the top of Micky's chest of drawers and looking around the room in almost wonder.
"It's still a mess." Micky laughed as he closed the curtains.
Mike looked up. "That's new." He said. Micky turned around to see him gesturing to a picture of a tree that hung on the wall.
"Yeah," Micky replied, amused. "Don't ask me where I got if from though; I bought it when I was drunk. I have no idea where it came from or how much it cost, all I know is that I woke up one morning and there was a picture of a tree on my wall. I don't even remember hanging it!"
Mike didn't look overly amused by talk of Micky being that drunk, but he powered through it and managed a smile. "Well... at least it's a nice painting."
Micky pulled a face. "You think?" He asked in amusement. "It's certainly not something I would've spent money on sober, that's for sure."
"No," Mike laughed. "Probably not."
The two men were silent for a moment as they smiled at each other.
"Do you need to freshen up?" Micky asked. "I have a spare tooth brush."
"No, I'm okay." Mike replied. "I brushed my teeth before I came here, actually."
Micky raised his eyebrows. "Is that because you knew you'd end up kissing me and you wanted to have nice, minty breath..?" He teased.
Mike laughed. "Well, I hoped I'd end up kissing ya." He flirted before wearing a more serious look. "But no, I don't know why I did really. I think I just wanted to boost my confidence because I was feelin' so nervous. There's nothin' like fresh breath to make you feel a bit better about yourself." He laughed.
Micky smiled. "I just thought, it's only nine 'o'clock - you don't need to come to bed now if you don't want to. It's still really early." He said.
"I don't mind." Mike replied. "I don't have to go to sleep. I just want to lay with ya."
Micky felt a giddy smile cover his face and he could feel himself blush. "Okay." He said. "I need to freshen up, but I'll only be two minutes."
"Take as long as you need." Mike smiled.
Micky could hardly contain the smile on his face as the reality that he and Mike were back together was slowly starting to sink in through the surface. Micky turned to walk into the bathroom but stopped himself. He then went to his chest of drawers and pulled out a pair of pyjamas so he could change in the bathroom. Micky smiled at Mike before shutting himself in the en-suite bathroom to get himself ready for bed.
I didn't take long for Micky to have a quick wash, brush his teeth and changed his clothes, and when he returned to his bedroom his heart skipped a beat when he saw Mike in bed waiting for him.
Micky stood in the doorway to the en-suite bathroom for a moment, taking in the sight in front of him and making sure this whole thing wasn't one big incredible dream. Mike looked up at Micky silently, and he wore a look that matched Micky's - a look contentment and disbelief.
Mike was shirtless, having stripped down to nothing but his boxer shorts, but Micky remained fully clothed in pyjamas. Micky eventually made his way over to the bed, and Mike pulled back the covers for him expectantly. Micky smiled as he climbed into bed beside the Texan, wincing a little as he got himself comfortable.
"Does it still really hurt?" Mike asked with a concerned frown.
"No," Micky replied as he laid down facing Mike. "It just sort of feels...tight. It's hard to explain. I'm just really cautious of it, like with the way I move, because I'm scared of sort of pulling it open or something."
Mike looked a little squeamish.
"But that won't happen." Micky stressed quickly, not wanting to gross Mike out. "That's just me being paranoid because that's kinda what it feels like. But it doesn't hurt as such. It just feels weird. I did have a bit of metal sticking out of me, to be fair."
Mike winced a little, clearly troubled by the thought of Micky being hurt.
"Sorry," Micky said gently, reaching out and stroking the Texan's dark hair. "I don't mean to make you feel squeamish."
"I just hate knowin' that you're hurt." Mike said quietly, staring at Micky. "It makes me feel... I dunno. I can't stand it."
Micky smiled sympathetically. "Well I'm fine really. I'm still here and I am healing well. I had a check-up last week and they're really happy with it; I have no infections or anything."
"Well that's good I 'spose." Mike sighed, taking hold of Micky's hand and lacing their fingers together.
The couple went silent before Mike rolled over to turn the lamp off that sat on the bedside table. He then returned to his position facing Micky. The light was dim, but the couple could still see each other through the darkness.
Micky took hold of Mike's hand again, and the pair laced their fingers together as they gazed into each other's eyes through the darkness of the room. Micky felt absolutely contented, and he could tell Mike was feeling the same. It was hard for Micky to comprehend how quickly things had changed; an hour ago he was lying on the couch absent-mindedly watching a boring movie on TV, feeling pretty numb and not even bothering to wonder what tomorrow would bring. But now here he was, lying next to the man he loved, sharing a moment he'd dreamed of a hundred times since Mike had left him all those months before. Micky couldn't believe how lucky he was, but at the same time he was already feeling totally comfortable and relaxed in the Texan's company. It wasn't weird or awkward or anything like that - it felt right. It felt totally and utterly right.
Micky could see that Mike's mind was working behind his dark eyes, and after a few minutes of silence, the Texan spoke again.
"I'm sorry I didn't come see you after-" Mike cut himself off before correcting himself. "-Around Christmas." He said. "I was worried I would make things worse."
Micky's feeling of joy and contentment was replaced with deep unease. That unease had been there in the back of his mind, in the pit of his stomach, but hearing Mike's words brought it to the surface.
Micky found himself swallowing hard. "I-It's okay." He said quietly.
Mike continued to watch Micky, but Micky's eyes had fallen from Mike's. Now Micky was feeling nervous about what Mike would say - or ask - next.
"We have so much to talk about," Mike said quietly after a few moments silence, and Micky felt his heart start to race in his chest. "But I don't want to talk now. I just want to be with ya."
Micky swallowed again and nodded his head. He didn't want Mike to ask about the night he saw him with Tony, or about Micky's lifestyle around that point. Micky took a deep breath as he tried to relax himself, pleased at least that Mike didn't want to talk about anything right now.
Mike opened his arms to Micky. "You won't feel too uncomfortable if I cuddle ya, will you?" He asked.
Micky shook his head. "I don't think so." He said.
Mike and Micky shuffled closer together, and Micky found himself slide into Mike's arms with ease - just like he had done a hundred times before. Mike and Micky seemed to slot together like two halves of the same coin; it wasn't forced and it was totally natural - it just sort of worked.
Micky managed to get himself into a position where he was lying in Mike's arms without putting too much pressure on the scar on his stomach. Micky found himself resting his head on Mike's chest, and as soon as Mike's loving arms wrapped around him the fear and unease of a few moments earlier seemed to disappear. Micky wondered how even after all this time Mike still managed to have such power over him, but he was thankful for it and wouldn't have it any other way.
Micky buried his face in Mike's skin and sighed contently, squeezing his eyes shut as he felt the weight of the world desert his slim shoulders. Mike stroked Micky's back through the fabric of his pyjama top with one hand, and the hair on his head with the other. Mike's hands felt exactly the same as they did before they broke up; his hands felt strong and kind and tender, and Micky felt absolutely safe beneath their touch. Micky couldn't believe that anything could ever hurt him again when Mike's hands and arms were holding him like this.
Micky gently rubbed the soft, lightly-haired skin of Mike's chest, planting small kisses on the Texan's flesh as he sighed sleepily.
"Go to sleep, my angel." Mike whispered. "Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of our lives."