Part III
by mickchick
Davy was crushed. If Micky had wanted sex with a man, why hadn't he come to Davy first? Mike was so cold and reserved not like Micky at all! What had ever possessed Micky to sleep with him? He'd given Micky every hint, every opportunity, and he'd still chosen Mike! Davy headed back to the beach feeling angry and alone. The sand didn't feel as hot nor the sun as bright anymore, and Davy sank weakly onto a blanket to plan his next move.
Knowing what he did, it was difficult for Davy to be civil to Mike. Since when had Mike been into men? It seemed to Davy that the only reason Mike had a male lover was because that lover was Micky and he'd known that Davy wanted him.
During the weeks that followed, the tension in the pad was nearly unbearable. The only time that Davy spent around Mike was when they were practicing or performing. Even then, Davy made sarcastic, bitter little remarks whenever possible, and Mike responded with nasty little barbs of his own.
Finally, unable to stand it any longer, Micky exploded in a rage, knocking his drums and cymbals over and throwing his drumsticks across the room. He could hear Davy and Mike loudly blaming each other for the upset as he stormed out through the front door.
Peter sat on his bed and took a small, flat pipe out of the top drawer of his nightstand. He crumbled a few small chunks of hash into the bowl and lit it. Inhaling the sweet, fragrant smoke, he waited for its soothing effect. There was no point in continuing this charade any longer. Something had caused his three best friends to turn against each other and there didn't seem to be any solution. Perhaps the friendship had simply run its course. Perhaps it was time for all of them to go their separate ways. The thought made him incredibly sad - sadder than he'd ever felt in his life. He picked up his acoustic guitar and quietly began composing a song.
Davy sat on the dark, deserted beach and looked out over the black water. How had things gotten so crazy? They'd all been friends once, with no jealousy among them. What had changed? It wasn't as if he'd wanted to take Micky away from Mike. He'd only wanted to have sex with him. Why wasn't Mike willing to share? Why couldn't they all just get along together, sharing sex the way they'd shared everything else? Well, if it was so damn important for Mike to have exclusive rights to Micky, then Davy could deal with it. He'd never had trouble finding lovers before. He had no reason to doubt his ability to find one now. Davy took a deep, resigned breath and settled in. There was no point in going back inside, so he decided to stay where he was, watching the waves lap against the shoreline.
Mike drove frantically, without a clue about where to go, where to look for Micky. He knew only that he had to find him. He had to explain. It wasn't just about the sex anymore. He loved Micky.
Mike knew that Micky didn't feel the same way, and he thought about how strange his behavior must have seemed to him. He'd only wanted to feel that he was special to Micky, as important a part of his life as Micky was to his. He'd been so afraid that Davy would take him away and that Mike would be left alone. Where would he find someone else he could trust with his secret desires? Mike wiped a tear from his cheek and drove on into the night.
Micky sat on the stone steps of the public library and tried to catch his breath. After leaving the pad, he'd run along the neighborhood sidewalks, darting into the shadows whenever a car approached, and finally ending up here. His head was spinning and he felt sick to his stomach. This was all his fault! He should have put a stop to it long ago. He never should have let it happen in the first place.
Mike squinted into the darkness. There on the library steps was a figure that looked like Micky. He thought he recognized the long, thin legs and the unruly mop of curls. He slowed the car down and eased closer for a better look.
Micky heard the car door shut and he looked up in alarm. It was Mike and he was walking toward him! Micky stood up and looked frantically around him, wondering if he should run. It was no use. Micky knew he would have to face Mike sooner or later and do what had to be done. He waited for Mike to reach him.
"You okay," Mike asked when he stood in front of him.
Micky nodded. "Yeah, I'm okay. You?"
Mike nodded and looked down at the steps.
Micky took a deep breath and frowned into the darkness. "We gotta talk, Mike," he said softly.
"Yeah, I know," Mike agreed. He looked at Micky and waited.
Micky licked his lips nervously and picked at his cuticles. There was no good way to say this. "I can't do it anymore, Mike."
Mike looked at him questioningly. He wasn't sure what it was that Micky was talking about.
"The sex," Micky said. "I can't do it anymore. Not with you, not with any other guy." He watched closely for Mike's reaction, but Mike just stared at him stoically. "It doesn't feel right anymore, Mike. I want a woman." There, he'd said it. He released the enormous breath he'd been holding and looked at Mike.
Mike nodded his head just a little and looked down again.
"Look, Mike," Micky pleaded. "Everything was fine until we started this stuff. We all liked each other. I want us to like each other again, Mike. I want everything to be the way it used to be!"
Mike reached for Micky, but Micky pulled back. Mike smiled a small, sad smile and nodded his understanding. "Okay, Mick," he said sadly, "I'll do whatever you want. I promise I'll never make a move on you again."
He was sincere and Micky knew he could trust Mike to keep his word. He gave him a small, single nod.
"But if you ever want me, Mick," he added, "I'll be there for you."
Micky stepped forward and gave Mike a hug. Mike wrapped his arms tightly around Micky for just a moment, closing his eyes and trying to commit the feeling to memory. It hurt more than he could have imagined it would.
He grabbed Micky's shoulders and gently pushed him away. "C'mon, Mick," he said. "Let's go home."
On to Part IV
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