Help Me

The Talk: Mikey

Mikey

It was weird, and almost surreal, in a way. Because it genuinely felt like nothing had changed between the two of them. Absolutely nothing at all. But there had been some subtle shift deep down, an agreement, and it made Mikey's heart jump every time he made eye contact with his...

It occurred to Mikey that Rye was no longer just his 'friend.' He was more than that now; the two of them were now two halves to one whole.

Almost in sync to this morning, his... Boyfriend?... Walked down the stairs in front of him, making sure that he didn't trip on the way down. And if anyone was to trip whilst walking down stairs it was Mikey. Rye's fond smile told him that, and Mikey felt heat rush up the back of his neck.

"I'll text you when were done Rye." He promised with a smile.

"Okay... Don't rush alright? Take as long as you need." He responded, his hand on the banister.
He seemed to hesitate, biting his lip, before his classic 'screw it' expression crossed his features. Mikey blushed horribly when Rye leant down to peck his lips, but he couldn't do anything for his smile; that was staying there.

Rye's soft laughter reminisced that of light wind chimes as he headed back up, equally blushing from his action.

Clearly they were both new to this, both unsure. But they could get through it together.

And then he walked into the living room, seeing his mother pacing back and forth.

"Mum?" Mikey called quietly, and instantly her head snapped up.

"Mikey." Her voice wobbled.

He could already tell that they would both be crying.

His arms clutched her tightly, even tighter than he had hugged her when they had arrived the night before. She was shaking, trembling, and so was Mikey.

This was going to be harder than he thought... He didn't know if he could do it...

You're not putting this off any longer Mikey. Now sit down and talk to your mother!

And Mikey did just that, sitting down beside his mother when they both reluctantly pulled away, feeling strangely empty, but also relieved at the same time. Was that even a thing?

"Talk to me Mikey." His mother didn't beg, but he knew she was relatively close to. That's how desperate she was to know everything... To understand...

"I don't know where to start."

He turned his head to look his mother in the eye, whispering. He was scared, and it seemed that she could see it too, seeing as she kissed him on the forehead, stroking his cheek.

It had been so long since they had had a moment like this, just mother comforting her son, and it only made the guilt he felt deep inside himself smoulder, almost like someone had poked a dying fire, causing the embers to erupt into one last explosion of heat.

"From the beginning... I don't care if it takes all night." She smiled, but Mikey knew that it was a front. Nevertheless, he appreciated it.

"Okay."

Then Mikey started, right from the beginning, his voice gradually growing stronger and stronger with each passing second.
And by the time Mikey had finished, he had lost count of how many times each of them had burst into tears, how many times his voice had broken, how many times he nearly fell apart in his mother's arms.

But he cut it short, not yet voicing the events of this morning, and then not even an hour ago. He couldn't say that... Not yet. He had barely managed to get all of that out... So how on earth was he supposed to admit this?