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"Saved by the Bell - Part 10"
Title: Saved by the Bell P10
Author: Woolhat's Traveling Mood
She had a fiendish smile on her face as she nibbled lightly at his ear. He tried desperately to stop his heart from pounding but he was too nervous. Instead, he attempted to cover it up with silly jokes, but she didn't appear to be listening. She was only after one thing. Micky felt her hands grab at his collar and soon he was lying with her in the sand, the dampness quickly seeping into his shirt. He fumbled eagerly with her blouse, quickly prizing it away before attacking her flesh with his hot tongue. It all happened so quickly, right there in the sand as the sun disappeared behind the sea, sending out its last few dying rays across the beach and reflecting slightly in the old beach house windows as the building watched intently, a relic.Micky thought that when he lost his virginity, it would be to a fellow virgin, but he knew full well that this girl was far from that. He knew that when he first laid eyes on her, her face layered with years of clumsy make up. She wasn't his ideal choice, but he knew he needed experience, and she was the best one to get that from. When it was all over, he lay back in the sand, breathing heavily, and watched her dress quickly. There was no loving exchange of words, no sweet luscious kisses, just sex and nothing else.
She was the first in a long succession, fleeting fancies that he knew for no longer than 24 hours max before moving on. He sure as hell wasn't going to become attached to anyone again. What the hell for? So that they can leave you? Forget you? Why put yourself through the pain, when you can get what you want with the least amount of effort?
It was one night, when he met Peter on the way home from one of his conquests, that everything took a chaotic new turn. The blond saw him and walked with him to their street, asking him about all the usual trash.
"How have you been?" Peter asked pleasantly.
"Never better." Micky beamed, hands thrust deeply in his pockets.
"How's the job?"
"Great. I must say Pete, that was very nice of you to get me in there man, everything's great."
"I'm glad to here it Mick. Although." Peter trailed off as he looked up at the stars wistfully for a moment.
"Although what?" Micky asked impatiently, a suspicious expression crossing his features.
"Well, I saw Coco the other day, she was pretty upset you know."
"Ah, yeah...that." Micky avoided Peter's eye contact and became entranced with the pavement beneath their feet, hoping he could avoid another lecture.
"Micky, you really should stop and think you know. You're becoming just like Davy. I mean, what were you thinking?"
"Hey, it wasn't just my fault! She wanted it just as much as I did!"
"I don't want to know the details, all I know is you slept with your sister's best friend and I think that was just fucking cruel!"
Micky stopped and looked at Peter, trying to stop his mouth from unhinging. He had never heard Peter talk to him like that before, and by the look in the blonde's eyes, Micky could tell he meant it.
"Hey, what's your problem? Or are you just jealous?" Micky growled.
"I don't envy you; I pity you! You're going to end up alone Micky, all alone if you don't start treating people with a bit of respect!"
"Why should I? It's not like people give me any respect!"
"You don't deserve it!"
Micky bit down on his lip and gave his best glare. At that moment, he hated Peter, hated him for being such a know-it- all, for always treating him like an imbecilic kid.
Peter began to look up at the stars again, obviously regretting his outburst but refusing to retract it. Micky deserved to be taught a lesson.
"Look!" Peter ran his hand through his hair, quickly making eye contact before looking away again, "I don't know why I'm having this conversation with you, I mean, how can I expect you to know what love and respect are? You've never been in love."
"Yes I have!" Micky shouted, and then immediately regretted it.
"Oh yeah? With who?" Peter glared with a look of doubt evident in his tawny eyes.
"It doesn't matter," Micky began to continue walking, picking up a quick pace.
"Who was it Micky?" Peter pressed, quickly catching up with him.
"None of your business, ok?" Micky didn't dare look at Peter as he hurried along the darkened sidewalk.
"Who the hell was it? Tell me!"
Micky didn't say anything, keeping his head down as he kept going - one more block.
"Micky! Tell me, who was it? Tell me!"
"It was Mike ok?!" Micky turned and screamed.
There was silence for a long while as the words fell heavily to the floor. The whole street held it's breath and Micky swallowed hard. What had he done?
Peter's eyes were wide with surprise and confusion and he didn't say anything for a long while. In the distance, Micky could even hear the churning of the waves on the beach, and he wished he could be there, or anywhere just as long as he was as far away from here as possible. Slowly he began to turn and took another step before his arm was viciously grabbed and he was spun around to face Peter's staring eyes.
"Just answer me one thing." Peter murmured, his voice barely more than a hushed whisper. Micky nodded and the blond continued. "Did you sleep with him?"
Micky's face held an expression of pure and utter spite and coldness. He shrugged off Peter's grip and gave a deep, heart felt sigh. "Yes...many times, and they were the best moments in my life."With that, he turned on his heels and continued down the street, silently cursing his carelessness.Peter was left alone in the darkness, his perception of everything he thought Micky was lay shattered, scattered carelessly on the ground for the sea breeze to destroy.
Micky's eighteenth came and went, along with his nineteenth, but he found he wasn't paying any attention any more. After that night with Peter, all he wanted to do was lay low, so he gave up the chicks and took to concentrating on work. He lost interest in most things and lay about the house on his days off, getting under his mother's feet.
Micky dated a couple of girls, but he didn't have any feelings that told him he was in love. There was no buzz, no adrenalin and he didn't find himself jumping out of bed just to be with them. He felt like he had fallen into an abyss, he was just mindlessly falling, and there was no end in sight.
Peter was still his adopted older brother, always trying to be 'helpful'. He helped Micky with his job, helped him meet nice girls, helped him buy a car, in fact, he was a puppeteer and Micky only wished he had the strength or even the motivation to cut the strings. With friends like that, who needs enemies, he always told himself.
He was living in status symbol land, living the average young suburban life and he hated it with a vengeance. Maybe he could go traveling? He and Davy could cut to Europe, or England. He was told that the English girls were really something, and London was the most happening place around. Nah, he could never afford it. He knew he should be thankful. Micky knew that soon he would encounter a heavy dose of misery, it was only a matter of when.
The rain came in heavy thuds as it pounded on top of his head, chilling him to the bone. It made the scene before him seem even more pitiful. As he continued staring right ahead, a female arm entangled with his and held him close. Looking down he saw Coco's panda-like eyes staring back at him.
"You ok?" She whispered and Micky gave a solemn nod, lying as usual. "Mom's going back to the house now, do you wanna come?"
"Give me just a few more minutes." Micky ached as he whispered.
Coco nodded and headed off to help her mother get home, as well keeping as watchful eye on her sisters. Micky could look after himself; he was a man now.
Micky kept staring at the hole in the ground with a certain amount of dread. He didn't want to be buried in mud on a rainy October afternoon. He wondered where he would like to go - probably burial at sea or something, where he could float endlessly until he was eaten by a shark, helping nature continue its cycle. He didn't want to be buried in a hole and he hated the thought that he was doing it to his father. He was a good man; that was for sure. A kind gentle man.
"Goodbye dad." Micky whispered as he turned to leave.
The rain didn't let up for the rest of the week. Micky spent endless days rooting through old belongings of his father's, often sitting up all night. Mom and the girls were at Aunt Jesse's so it was just him...and Peter. The blond would sit in the old armchair and watch Micky intently, sometimes offering useless advice, sometimes just blending into the background.
Micky knew he should be grateful to the blond, Peter had helped him graduate from high school and get his first job. Peter had always been there and was a real good friend, if only Micky believed that. Sometimes Micky felt like Peter was only helping him to make himself look good. Maybe.
It was three days since the funeral and there was still a whole attic of stuff to go through, there just seemed to be endless amounts of it. His mother didn't want to have anything to do with it and she was gradually just becoming a shell of what she was, thank goodness for the girls. If it wasn't for his sisters, his mother would have nothing to live for, she certainly didn't live for him anymore, he was too old for her to dote over.
"Nineteen and I've already lost my dad, it's not fair is it big Peter?"
"Life's not fair Micky, but you'll do him proud, trust me."
'Yeah, but will I do me proud?' Micky thought to himself. When his father had become ill, all Micky could do was sit and watch him waste away, he felt so useless.Just then there was a knock at the front door. Peter got up, stretching his legs and headed out into the hallway. It was probably another distant relative coming to ask Micky if he needed anyone to cook for him. He didn't need anyone's help, he kept telling himself.
Micky cocked his head to see if he could guess who it was, but he could only hear silence. Finally Peter wandered slowly back in, his face that of anger and slight bewilderment.
"It's for you." He growled, slumping in the armchair again and crossing his arms irritably.
Micky gave a confused expression and staggered to his feet. What had got Peter so worked up? It wasn't like him to get pissed off over nothing. Micky dug his hands in his pockets and strode out into the hallway.
"Yeah?" He asked as he looked up.
That was when his feet caught and he stumbled to a halt. He blinked a couple of times to make sure he wasn't seeing things. He wasn't. That posture was the same, that hair and those eyes.
"Hello Mick," Mike smiled.