Chapter Text
Mickey's tolerance for most substances is pretty high.
That being said, he's currently horizontal on the floor of the casino penthouse as the party rages around him. It started with just one drink, then another, and another, followed by a few lines of cocaine... and maybe a little meth, but Mickey couldn't remember. The more he moved, the closer the floor seemed to get, and eventually he found himself sprawled out on the alcohol-stained carpet with another man. Nothing about it looked innocent with the way they were positioned, their heads facing each other's knees and clothing visibly rucked, but nobody seemed to care either.
Through the pulsating mass of colors that must be his surroundings, Mickey thinks- no, he knows he sees a pair of glowing sneakers shuffle past him, then stop, turn around and grow closer, only to fade back into the chaos. It's the last thing he remembers seeing before the heavy tug of unconsciousness pulls him under. There's no way to tell how much time has elapsed, or if any time had elapsed at all, but when Mickey resurfaces, the other man is gone, the bar is empty, and the same glowing sneakers are flitting past his line of sight again.
"Yuno..." Mickey manages to groan, straining to lift his fingers in the hacker's direction.
"Mickey?" Yuno calls out, jogging over to the man on the floor. "Jesus, man, what happened to you?"
Mickey crushes the rise of bile in his throat as he tries to push himself up from the floor. "Can you just help me to the couch?"
"Oh! Uh, yeah, sure," Yuno apprehensively agrees to the request, gingerly moving forward to intercept Mickey's outstretched arm.
"Why d'you keep walking past me?" Mickey can't help but blurt out as Yuno moves to aid him.
"Oh, I'm sorry, you just seemed pretty occupied with someone else at the moment," Yuno grumbles. Mickey's not sure if it's the alcohol or if he's just plain overthinking it, but the sudden shift from Yuno's usually cheery tone almost makes him sound angry. Up until then, he's never heard Yuno sound even slightly irritated, and it jars his bones when he realizes what triggered the snap.
"Yuno, that wasn't- it's not what it might've looked like," Mickey stumbles over his own tongue as he rushes to refute the implication.
"Yeah, yeah, that's what they all say," Yuno mutters as he bends down to lift Mickey's arm onto his shoulders. The physical contact is invigorating, reawakening his artificially dulled nerves. Mickey's heartbeat spikes as he takes in the sensations of Yuno's fingers wrapped around his waist and the other hand firmly gripping his wrist. They make their way over to the couch, Yuno hurrying them along faster than Mickey's legs can handle, feet clumsily ghosting over the floor.
"What does it matter to you anyways?" Mickey counters. "You're never even here anymore." Maybe his words are harsher than he realizes, because Yuno rather unceremoniously deposits him on the couch, resulting in a soft oof from Mickey.
Yuno stares down at him, and Mickey stares back at his own reflection. To anyone else, Yuno's unmoving silence would look like apathy, but Mickey knows it's a conflicted contemplation.
"Listen, Mickey, even if there's nothing for me here, the only reason I'd want to come back is for people like you, because you're worth it," Yuno says in that... that voice he uses when he's just trying to be polite. It brings forth a rush of water, dark with premonition, and it sloshes against the levy that Mickey had to fight to put up.
"No," Mickey chokes out, Yuno tilting his head at the abrupt response. "You don't mean that."
Even from his position on the couch he can practically feel the hacker bristling at his words. "What, you think I'm lying to you? Do you think I'm even capable of lying in the first place?" There's a slight laugh in Yuno's tone, but the terseness behind it is still audible.
Mickey swallows. The levy threatens to crack. "Yes."
A surprised noise escapes the hacker. "Mickey... you don't trust me?"
The levy finally breaks, and Mickey welcomes the rushing waters with open arms. "Because you say things that you don't even mean. You make empty promises. You call me and say you want to be with me but every time I bust my ass to show up you're not there because you're already running off with someone else. And even when we're together you're always trying to find a reason to get away from me. I'm tired, Yuno, I'm tired of thinking you actually care about me, I'm tired of hoping you'll keep your promises for once."
The silence that follows is deafening, wrapping around Mickey's head and flooding his brain. Yuno's shoulders rise and fall with a quiet sigh, the only movement that fills the space. He doesn't apologize, but he doesn't argue either. Instead, he offers a compromise.
"How can I make it better?"
Only one answer rings clear in Mickey's mind.
"Stay."
Yuno stiffens. "I can't."
After fighting to keep his head above the turbulent waves, Mickey allows himself to sink all the way to the bottom. "Then go. If I'm not enough to make you stay, then go."
In his heart, Mickey knows he doesn't truly want to push Yuno away, but at the same time he knows it's for the better. As long as Yuno's around, he'll just keep finding ways to hurt Mickey even if it's unintentional, and the only way to protect himself is to eliminate the pain at the source.
And that's why, when Yuno leaves, he doesn't watch him go, preferring to just listen to the sound of fading footsteps. When he's sure Yuno is gone, Mickey pulls out his phone and scrolls to the bottom of his contacts list. Fingers hover over the delete button on Yuno's phone number, but never make contact with the screen. With a huff of exasperation, Mickey shuts his phone completely off and tosses it onto the floor several feet out of his reach. Then he does his best to make himself comfortable, discarding his suit jacket and shoes as well because he doesn't plan on leaving this couch for the rest of the night. Soon enough the swirling cocktail of alcohol and party drugs pull him into slumber, sparing him from the thoughts clouding his mind and the pang in his chest.
What Mickey doesn't know, though, is that Yuno goes up to the rooftop lounge with the intention of regrouping with the rest of the party to distract himself from what just happened. But he doesn't join his friends; only watches them from a distance as his mind reels. Nobody even knows he's up here, and nobody will know if he leaves right now. He decides to keep it that way, turning on his heel to return to the penthouse club as quickly as he left it. Mickey's sleeping form is the first thing his eyes land on when he enters, and he pauses.
Slowly, quietly, he makes his way over to the couch. If there were any visible emotions on Mickey's face, Yuno wouldn't know- the man had practically buried his head in the cushions. Maybe it was better that way, if Yuno couldn't see his face, because it would only add to his guilt. He sinks to the floor anyways, pulling off his helmet and setting it aside along with the shame that threatens to crush him. He shuffles backwards until his shoulders hit the couch, careful not to jostle the cushions too much. Leaning his head back, Yuno watches the gentle rise and fall of Mickey's shoulders, and he hopes that the sleep is a peaceful respite from the emotional turmoil he has put Mickey through.
Yuno decides that he'll apologize in the morning. He doesn't know how, but maybe if Mickey wakes before him and sees Yuno slumped against the couch with him, it'll be enough.