Chapter Text
The soft sound of clinking glass is what finally wakes Mickey up.
Well, it would be a soft sound if he didn't have the headache of a lifetime, the noise feeling more like an icepick through his brain. Every part of Mickey’s body aches as he stretches, unable to stop a pained groan from leaving his throat. Bright light streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows, making the trashed room look almost peaceful compared to the utter chaos it was during the nighttime.
Time. What time is it, anyways? Mickey squints as he drags his eyes around the room, searching for any indicators of how long he'd been knocked out.
“Rough night?”
Mickey’s head snaps up at the unfamiliar voice. He spots a man in a black button up standing behind the bar, which was decorated with a myriad of glasses, some empty and some with a few swallows left of a mystery liquid. The bartender looks at him with what he thinks is concern as he uses a rag to wipe the inside of a glass.
“Something like that,” Mickey mutters, massaging his fingers over a temple. His head is killing him.
“I figured,” the bartender says, then nods at something to Mickey’s right. “I left a glass of water and some painkillers for you if you need it.”
Mickey stiffly turns his head to see the items on the side table, along with his phone. Upon seeing the device, he vaguely remembers hurling it across the room in frustration after… after Yuno left. A weight instantly settles on his chest when he realizes his friend is long gone by now, doing who knows what with who knows who, if he's still in the city to begin with.
You're better off without him, Mickey muses to himself as if he needs to be convinced. It's probably true, because ever since Mickey met the hacker, Yuno has stirred the worst emotions within him that nobody has ever made him feel before. Mickey almost never experiences true jealousy, but now it consumes him, slowing shredding him apart from the inside with each passing day. It only pains him even more because he knows exactly why.
A grumbled “thank you” is all Mickey can muster to show his gratitude to the bartender, and he downs two of the pills. The cool water is a welcomed relief from his dry mouth and scratchy throat.
“You oughta' give some to your date when he wakes up,” the bartender speaks again, running the rag over the lip of the glass.
“Date?” Mickey echoes with a furrowed brow. The bartender tips the glass towards him, but his eyes land on something else. Mickey follows his gaze to see a small form curled into itself and a head of dark, fluffy hair. He doesn’t even need to see the rest of his face to know exactly who it is– the dark green jacket and motorcycle helmet on the floor are enough of a giveaway.
He stayed.
“Yuno?”
The man doesn't respond.
"Yeah, he ain't moved once since I got here. You must've worn him out good," the bartender chimes in again.
"What? No, I didn't- we didn't even..." Mickey starts to protest, then he mutters under his breath in hopes the bartender wouldn't hear him, "I'm not that lucky." Before the bartender can conjure up another witty response, Mickey slides off the couch, slips right past Yuno and staggers his way towards the suite. There, he uses the complimentary toothbrush and toothpaste to scrub his mouth clean of the taste of liquor-laced morning breath. A shower might help his head, and maybe also help him feel less shitty in general.
After taking a moment to decipher the various knobs and handles, he steps into the spray of water, allowing the warmth to seep into his sore muscles and loosen the tense fibers. It's a welcomed reprieve from the rest of the world, and Mickey would be perfectly content to just stand there until the water ran cold, but it still wouldn't solve the problem of Yuno. What to say to him. How to apologize for his melodramatics. If he should even say anything to Yuno at all.
Mickey hadn't expected Yuno to stay, and yet he almost wishes that he didn't. Maybe it would be better if Yuno left for good, so that Mickey wouldn't have to feel like he guilted his friend into doing something he clearly didn't want to do.
As he towels himself off, Mickey wonders if he should even bother getting dressed again. It would be so easy to get into that plush bed and go back to sleep, strategically avoiding the problem in the next room over. But he'd promised a meeting with Mr. K today and as much as he doesn't want to go given the physical and mental state he's in, he can't bail on something this important.
Even after searching the room for any spare clothes, Mickey finds himself stuck pulling on the same alcohol-stained clothes from the night before. He ditches his briefs, though, leaving them for some poor janitor to find. He wiggles back into his pants, thankful that the black fabric conceals any suspicious looking blotches resulting from the drinks he spilled on himself. The jacket and white shirt, however, are not as fortunate. Mickey doesn't mind going topless until he can find another shirt, so he just gets to work on zipping himself back up.
"Mickey?"
The voice is soft, but he still whirls from the shock of being walked in on while dressing. Just like that, he's face to face with Yuno again, who hovers halfway in the door opening with a hand wrapped around the frame.
"Jesus," Mickey exhales, turning away from Yuno the moment his skin starts burning to focus his attention on fumbling with the button on his pants and not the pretty boy who just saw him shirtless. "Why are you still here?"
Quiet footsteps across the carpet draw Mickey's attention back to Yuno, now fully in the room but maintaining a distance of several feet between them. "You wanted me to stay, so I did," the hacker responds flatly.
"It would've been easier if you didn't," Mickey grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Easier for who?" Yuno presses. "For me? Or for you?"
Mickey grimaces. "For both of us."
Yuno's shoulders droop. "Look, Mickey, I didn't realize I was hurting you. That's why I left at first, because I was panicking. I wanted to apologize to you but I didn't know how. But I thought that if I came back before you woke up, it would be enough of an apology."
"Yuno..." Mickey's heart throbs against something sharp, perhaps the tip of a knife. A knife that is held firmly in Yuno's hand.
"I'm sorry, Mickey. I never meant to hurt you." The blade pushes in slightly.
Mickey heaves a sigh as he processes the words he's hearing. They sound genuine enough, but Yuno's grip on the knife is steel. "I... appreciate the apology, Yuno, but that's not what I wanted from you."
Yuno's brows furrow, either in confusion or dismay. "What?"
Mickey rubs a knuckle over his temple, attempting to soothe his rapidly returning headache. "I just- I can't be alone with you." Or maybe I can't be with you at all.
"W-what?" The hacker repeats. "Why not?"
"Because it still hurts, Yuno. It hurts to know I'm nothing special to you."
Yuno's hair bounces as he shakes his head. "That's not true, I love hanging out with you. You're one of my favorite people to spend time with, because I know you're down for anything," Yuno negates and there it is, that syrupy sweet tone again, dripping over his lies like honey. "And you're funny, and smart, and creative, and you're really good at hacking," Yuno continues, each compliment driving the knife in deeper and deeper.
"No, no, no," Mickey cuts the hacker off before he can deliver the fatal stab, striding over to grip him by the shoulders. "That's not- you don't understand, Yuno." Realizing he's holding Yuno tighter than he meant to, he lightens his grip before adding in a low voice, "You don't know what you do to me."
The hacker splutters for a response as his green eyes frantically search Mickey's face. "Huh? What do you mean?"
Mickey doesn't have the words to explain it, leaving him with only one option.
His hands shift from Yuno's shoulders to grasp his face on both sides, and pull him in to capture his lips in a tender kiss. Yuno's hands fly to hold Mickey's elbows, but he doesn't move otherwise. It's not a disappointment to Mickey, because it's not like he expected Yuno to kiss back. He's only grasping for threads at this point, not particularly caring if he manages to catch one in his palm or if they slip through his fingers entirely. But Yuno doesn't flinch away either, just allows Mickey to melt their mouths together.
After he's drank his fill of Yuno's toxic honey, Mickey pulls back, and he would relish in the wet smack their lips produce if the threads hadn't floated past his grip. Instead it only serves as a sharp, sad reminder of what will never be.
"Now do you understand?" Mickey murmurs, absentmindedly stroking a thumb across Yuno's jaw.
The hacker's shaky breaths are the only sounds that fill the space between them, and trembling fingers dig deeper into Mickey's flesh. A few more seconds pass without an answer, and Mickey's about to push Yuno to the side and make his escape when he's suddenly yanked forward. The slick warmth of Yuno's mouth returns, and it's equal parts bold and delicate.
Leathered fingers slide over bare skin, leaving red hot trails of fire. A gentle, pleasant hum replaces the dull throbbing in Mickey's head as Yuno pushes against him. They easily fall into a rhythm, but it doesn't escalate. Mickey does, however, carefully walk them backwards until his shoulders hit the wall, giving Yuno full control of their movements. The hacker isn't forceful, but encourages the kiss to deepen by tilting his head further to the side. Mickey gladly accepts the invitation, loosely draping his arms around Yuno's neck.
Mickey could get lost in the electrifying sensations of Yuno's lips moving against his, but he knows eventually it will have to end despite how infinite he feels in this moment. His lungs are just within an inch of burning when their pace finally slows, allowing him to suck in a few breaths as they idly mouth at each other.
When Yuno gently separates from him, it isn't a disappointment this time, either. Golden satisfaction has settled across Mickey's skin like a fine mist, setting his nerves aglow, but something ominous lies deeper beneath that.
Dread.
If Yuno hadn't kissed back it wouldn't have inspired the dark waters to start rising once again, swallowing the remnants of the broken levy and pooling around Mickey's ankles. Before he knows it, he is in deeper than he was before.
Just when he thought the flood had subsided.
Somewhere above the surface, Yuno calls out to Mickey, the soft voice echoing through the unpromising expanse of the ocean that surrounds him.
"I understand, Mickey."