Cowboy Casanova (Dolenzmith) (COMPLETE)

77

Michael found Micky in the hallway. He was curled up into a ball, knees pulled up to his chin. He wrapped his arms around his legs and hid in the corner.

"Oh Micky, I'm so, so sorry." Michael crouched down, but was careful not to touch him. "I...I di'n't mean to hurt you. Please believe me, Mick. I love you."

Micky sniffled. His chin rested on his legs.

"Micky—"

"I just wanna be normal."

Michael was taken aback. "What?"

"I hate what I am!" Micky cried. "I hate waking up every morning of every fucking day, looking in a mirror and being reminded of what I let them do to me. I fucking hate it! I...I miss being able to let you touch me. I'm pathetic! It's been months and yet I...I..."

Micky choked up, burying his face in his legs. Michael's chest tightened and he reached out, placing a hand on Micky's arm. Micky flinched, but didn't pull away.

"It ain't your fault," Michael murmured. "Don't let yourself believe that, Mick, 'cause it ain't true. He targeted you while you were unconscious, hell, you were asleep the second time! Hell, th-the second time woulda never happened if I hadn't left you with...with him."

Michael dropped his hand and looked forward, staring blankly at the wall. He didn't realize he was crying until his vision was blurred with tears. His shoulders shook and he took a deep breath, hoping Micky wouldn't notice.

Micky noticed.

"Mike?" he asked quietly.

Michael didn't respond.

"Michael..." Micky hesitantly wrapped his arms around Michael's waist, pulling him back against his stomach. He laid his forehead against the back of Michael's neck. "It's not your fault. I hate that you feel so guilty."

Michael was still teary and turned to face Micky. Micky hesitated, then leaned in to kiss him. Michael's breath hitched in his throat, but he kissed back, bringing his hands up to cup Micky's face.

Micky slowly broke the kiss, still lingering by Michael's lips. They locked eyes, then he dropped his gaze, peering up at Michael shyly through his eyelashes.

"Are you sure?" Michael whispered.

Micky didn't answer. He didn't have to.

He grabbed Michael's hand in his and squeezed.