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"Saved by the Bell - Part 8"
Title: Saved by the Bell P8
Author: Woolhat's Traveling Mood
"I don't know what's got into you, I really don't! This is the second time you've disappeared! Your mother and I were sick to death. We were just about to send the police to help us search!"
Micky didn't look at his father but kept up a staring contest with the floor. He didn't really hear the words at all; he was too busy listening to the sound of his heart shattering.
"Do you hear me?"
The voice grew louder and Micky finally looked up with tears in his eyes. "I'm...sorry." He murmured, his voice shaking.
Micky's father ran a hand through his graying hair, looking to his wife for support. He held a brief look of guilt for shouting so much and sat opposite Micky in the old large armchair. "We were just so worried, honey," Micky's mother spoke up, reaching out and brushing a tear from her son's cheek. Micky cried harder at the contact and was engulfed in his mother's embrace. He knew that they didn't understand the real reason why he was crying; they just thought they'd been too hard on him. He could never tell them, how could he?
After a quieter lecture from both parents, Micky retreated to his room to cry himself to sleep. He couldn't believe so much had happened in such a short space of time and he felt so drained, mentally and physically. He felt dirty too, dirty and used, just another toy. Micky hid under his covers, the ones that had protected him for so long, and cried until his body ached for rest. He slept in dreamless slumber knowing that with a new day came new pain.
"Hey mate, long time, no see." Davy joked as he hovered around Micky's locker. The curly young man was silent as he fumbled with various textbooks. Davy raised an eyebrow and stepped closer. "What's wrong man? You seem really down."
"Doesn't look that way to me."
"Well what would you fucking know anyway?!" Micky snarled, not daring to see the hurt look in Davy's eyes.
"If that's the way you feel." Davy trailed off, leaving Micky to his own self-pity. Micky pounded his head against the metal cabinet in frustration and tried desperately to swallow back a couple of tears that were threatening to spill. That was when he felt the familiar hand on his shoulder.
Micky turned his woeful eyes to meet black spheres of guilt and sympathy. Mike bit his lip and shook his head slightly, as if that would help the words come out easier.
"I'm not talking to you." Micky finally spoke, turning away slightly but not fully able to shake off Mike's touch - he still wanted it so much.
"I don't know what to say." Mike whispered as if Micky hadn't spoken at all.
"You could try the truth." Micky growled, trying to use anger instead of sadness in his defense.
"You know the truth."
"I don't know anything, nothing was explained."
Micky hardly had time to finish when Mike suddenly grabbed his arm and steered him down the corridor. Micky struggled slightly but he couldn't release the grip. He tried to force his heels into the floor but he was just dragged along to a door at the end of the corridor. There, Mike pushed him inside and all was silent.
Micky watched Mike inspect the boys' toilets for inhabitants before the Texan turned and took a breath to speak. "What do you want to know?"
"Tell me how you've got a police record. And tell me why you seem to have the reputation of sleeping with other boys." Micky crossed his arms and held a stony face.
Mike held an expression of hurt, he looked physically pained, and he took a while before answering. "I burgled a few places back in Dallas, I did a bit of shoplifting. That's how I got my record." Mike paused and Micky gave a glare. "I haven't got a reputation Mick. I had a love affair with a school friend and his ma found out. She reported me to the police but they couldn't do anything; we were both minors. It became a bit of a joke at the police station, seeing as they already knew me as a bit of a regular in their cells." Mike bit his bottom lip again and glanced at himself in one of the wall mirrors.
Micky's mind was doing somersaults as he tried to separate fact from fiction. "What happened?" He whispered.
Mike looked up with mournful eyes, wild and seeking and saw a small hint of compassion that was almost hidden on Micky's face. "His dad found some stuff that we had stolen together and then they moved out of Texas. I haven't seen him since."
Micky looked hard at Mike's face and tried to work out whether Mike was truthful or not. He knew full well that he couldn't put himself through all the agony again if he found out something equally devastating about Mike's past. When explained by Mike, it all seemed so simple and not bad at all, but how could he be sure?
"I meant what I said." Mike broke the silence again, "I do love you Micky."
"How can I know if you're telling the truth? You never told me anything."
"I didn't tell you because I didn't want to lose you, I'm sorry."
Micky's tears began to well up again, he didn't know what to do. A few stray drops trickled down his face and Mike instinctively stepped forward and brushed them away with a crooked finger.
"I didn't want to hurt you. Please believe me Mick."
Micky looked up at him and tried to imagine life without Mike. It was horrible and lonely and loveless. "I...I believe you." Micky murmured, quickly wrapping his arms around Mike's waist and pulling him close as his body surrendered to the flood of tears. Mike held him for quite a while; occasionally sharing a couple of his own tears and they were Micky's living truth that his lover wasn't lying.
The next few weeks were as if nothing had happened. Mike was given a few hours community service but he seemed pretty happy that he wasn't being thrown into some kind of kiddy's prison. The pair of them sat together every lunch and spoke of their pasts and their futures. No more secrets.
Summer was dawning across the country, and Micky threw his head back and bathed in the glorious golden rays that danced off his face. He felt like he was in an oven, all warm and crispy. Mike was lying beside him in the browning grass, seemingly asleep. Mike's backyard was small, Micky noted, but its high fences held the maximum privacy. Micky turned his almond eyes in Mike's direction and they glowed with pride. He was pleased he had forgiven Mike, and the Texan seemed to show no signs of going astray, in fact, they seemed to spend their every spare moment together. The curly youth slowly dropped to his side in the grass, where his face lay in line with Mike's. His dark orbs were closed in a moment of utter bliss and his breath was steady. Micky's eyes ran over that smooth, gentle face and he couldn't resist leaning forward and kissing it gently, first on the tip of Mike's nose, then his earlobe, until finally reaching those soft, kind lips. The dark eyes fluttered in response and were soon gazing at Micky with silent admiration.
Mike's arms immediately reached out and latched around Micky's shoulders, pulling him down for a yearning kiss. The kiss seemed to last for hours, and Micky loved it that way, they didn't have to rush anything. When they separated, Mike continued his gaze of wonder, seemingly pondering the very meaning of life. Micky's fingers were almost too eager as he fumbled with the buttons of Mike's shirt, pulling it from him and then hurrying onto his pants. The Texan didn't move and simply absorbed the attention, waiting for his turn to do the same to Micky. Soon they were both naked, Micky's golden body glinting in the sun. He was bursting with adrenaline, this was almost too risky, but Mike's cool, calm expression seemed to erase the fears from his brain.
They made love gently and softly, almost as if they had fallen from a line of poetry. Micky's eyes closed in bliss as he came, and he clung to Mike, hoping that he could stay like this forever, hoping that they could never be separated. At first, he thought that he would hate having to keep their relationship a secret, and sometimes he did, but often he loved their little secret, he loved having Mike all to himself, no one could interfere with them.
"I don't want this to end." Micky whispered in Mike's ear as the Texan lay by Micky's side, mindlessly playing with a loose lock of hair.
"It won't. Not as long as we continue to love each other. I could die and it would never end, you'd still have this feeling." Mike smiled, laying his hand on Micky's chest where he assumed his heart was.
Micky smiled softly, putting his hand on Mike's chest in the same place. "Forever." He murmured and Mike took his hand and kissed it. "Always."