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Percy Butter could hardly sleep anymore.
He woke up again in the middle of the night, blinking rapidly in the darkness, feeling the keen sweat on his forehead and the painful ache of his arms.
It was unfortunate. Tonight he had spent so long trying to sleep in the first place. But yet, another sleepless night. He always turned the air conditioning on, but he would still sweat, and his arms would still ache regardless of what position he slept in. It was all beginning to feel hopeless.
As much as he usually enjoyed the calming atmosphere of night time, the worst thing he could be with was his own thoughts. Because when he was awake, he would lie in bed for hours and think about all his mistakes.
Maybe he deserved it. He didn’t deserve the privilege of sleeping peacefully anymore. When he slept he was vulnerable, he was weak and so utterly defenceless that it made Percy want to kick himself.
For his role in the narrative. The unknowing victim. The unknowingly brainwashed.
Percy clawed at his bed sheets before falling back asleep.
He lay in bed again the next night, wide awake.
He still didn’t understand when his father had decided he was unimportant, that it was fine for him to be a pawn in Leviathan’s master plan. When did he become so vile and disdainful to his father? So worthless?
He racked his brain for any sort of explanation, but he couldn’t think of any. He flitted through the timeline in his head, unable to pinpoint the clear moment where his father decided he was not worth fighting for anymore. That Percy didn’t matter to him anymore.
He spent the rest of the night tossing and turning, thinking about how everything that happened this past year went wrong. And how much he wished he could turn back time and live in a happier moment, one that he should have cherished more.
The next morning, it was around nine, before breakfast. Percy was walking in the Tompkins gardens in his silky thin black pyjama set, under the vivid pastel blue sky. A stark contrast to Percy’s room at night.
Percy had always liked to spend time in the Tompkins gardens whenever he was feeling emotions he didn’t feel like dealing with. The Tompkins gardens were a wide expanse of land, with pavements snaking its way continuously through the plants and flowers. The colours were vast, rosy pink, calming blue, minty greens surrounding him. Of course nature would thrive so beautifully bright in the welcoming, colourful Tompkins manor.
He walked on the smooth gray stone pavement, his hands in his pockets. On his left was a tall hedge with differently coloured roses.
In the middle was a large fountain that tied the whole garden together, circled by flowers at the bottom.
Percy was slowly walking his way to the very end. He would occasionally stop and bend down to sniff the flowers, inhaling the floral scent.
He still appreciated the sweet scent of the flowers, but there was a part of him that felt cautious, a slight feeling of panic shooting through his body.
It’s nothing, he told himself, willing his pulse to slow. The sweet scent of flowers wasn’t anything like the smell of the Hamelin formula. The aroma of a flower was naturally appearing, but the Hamelin Formula was sickening in its sweetness and man made, not an actual part of nature. Regardless, strong scents were now starting to make him feel a little panicked. But he was working on it. He was determined to enjoy the scent of flowers like he did before everything happened. Leviathan was not going to ruin something as simple as that for him.
He tried his best to blink away his sleepiness as he walked, though he was still lethargic. His mind still lingered on the thoughts he was having last night. He remembered looking around his room, the pastel blue walls, feeling like he was trapped again. The thoughts came to him abruptly, even though Percy did his best to suppress them, trying to prevent them from even occurring in the first place.
What could he do about it? Nothing, apparently. They would come repeatedly, an unbreakable ritual. Alfred Tompkins is sick. Leviathan have the Hamelin formula. Father sold you out for Leviathan.
It’s your fault.
Percy physically cringed as the memories of the past few months came coursing through his mind again. He shook his head, as if to literally shake the memories away.
He felt a light touch on his right shoulder. Percy turned his head to see Micky, and Percy instantly brightened.
His light blonde hair was messy, not brushed yet. It made Percy want to ruffle his hair, to feel the soft texture between his fingers. and to gaze into his sparkling blue eyes. He also wore a thin vertically striped red and white pyjama set. Only Micky could look good in candy cane pyjamas.
Percy smiled as Micky walked beside him.
They walked side by side in the heat as a cool breeze found its way down Micky’s spine. Micky suddenly felt his palms build up with sweat, so he rubbed his palms on his trousers.
This is bad. He doesn’t want Percy to see him sweat. That wouldn’t be good, because Micky made it a priority to look good in front of Percy.
Percy stopped walking to look at a large red rose. He stroked the delicate petals carefully. He then closed his eyes and leaned towards the red rose to inhale its scent.
Micky took a step back to look at Percy clearer. He held a breath when looking at the soft curve of Percy’s jawline. The way he crinkled his nose to lean against the rose made Micky’s mind wander. The rose is lucky.
Percy caught Micky staring at him. Micky stayed still, awate that he was probably blushing. But he refused to look away, because he still wanted to look at Percy.
Percy smiled at him again. His smile always made Micky breathless. When he smiled really wide, it was always crooked. It was the most valuable thing in the world. Micky’s eyes lingered on his hair and he suppressed the urge to touch it.
Micky’s eyes lingered on what he was wearing. His pyjamas accentuated the sunken black circles under his eyes, and his pale white skin. He looks like a panda, mused Micky.
Percy let go of the flower, his smile fading slowly, almost unnoticeable. He wore a withdrawn expression as they walked, looking down occasionally and chewing his lip.
Micky drew his eyebrows together.
“Are you alright?” asked Micky, turning towards Percy’s face to look at him properly.
Micky’s eyes widened as he took in how tired Percy’s face actually looked. He always looked tired, but recently Percy carried his exhaustion like a weight on his back. This is the worst he had ever seen it. He looked depleted of any energy.
Percy looked at him, and slowly signed, “Tired. Just a bit tired.”
He gave a small smile as if to show this, but Percy’s sunken eyes begged to differ.
“I think I know what it’s about.” He knew Percy wasn’t telling the truth, so he didn’t even pause to question him about it.
Percy immediately stilled, his mouth drawn into a line.
“What... happened,” started Micky. He didn’t want to put a name to it. It was all like a long, terrible dream that he couldn’t believe, even now. “And, you can tell me about how you’re feeling, if you want. I don’t mind.”
Micky offered an encouraging smile, hoping that hid his anxiousness.
Percy chewed his lip again as they walked, reaching the end of the garden now, facing a large bush where rows and rows of different flowers popped out, and the two turned to face each other.
“Maybe I will,” he signed finally.
Micky looked at him expectantly.
“I think about what happened all the time. And I can’t sleep anymore,” he started, his eyes avoiding Micky’s gaze. After a long pause, Percy continued. “I’ll describe it like… my world is still loose at the seams, threatening to tear at any minute. Or, something like that.”
Percy sucked in a breath. Micky thought his metaphor sounded very concerning.
“And when it inevitably tears apart, I’ll be nothing,” signed Percy, pausing.
Micky didn’t really understand what he meant. He just understood that Percy didn’t feel secure in his place, if he feels like tearing. Which made sense, considering what happened. Of course Percy would be shocked, feeling unbalanced because of that.
I’ll be nothing. Micky pondered over Percy’s statement, and realized that being nothing sounded really bad. If you were nothing, you wouldn’t be able to eat sweets, or watch television, or play video games. And you wouldn’t be able to be with Percy and sit side by side with him, living in the same space if you were nothing. You would also never get the opportunity to finally run your hands through his hair and to trace your fingers along the inside of his palms. What a terrible thing, Micky thought. So when Percy said that, did he mean that he felt like he was on the verge of something really bad? That he wouldn’t be able to enjoy anything again?
“I just still can’t get over it,” signed Percy eventually, avoiding eye contact. “Maybe it’s deserved,”
This confused Micky. That couldn’t be right. How was this deserved in any way?
Percy put his hands down, and clasped them to his sides. His facial expression was pained, there was a sad look in his eyes and he still refused to look completely upwards, to make eye contact with Micky.
Micky nodded as Percy’s facial expression tightened, as he continued. “I‘m still trying to accept what my father did. It’s like everything has broken and shattered in front of me. What could I have done to change things? It’s something I keep thinking about. And, I still don’t know.”
Micky immediately stilled.
“And it will be a long time until I get over it all, I guess. But for now? I’m still lost.”
He walked closer towards the hedge, his hand scraping through it, as a dark melancholy overwhelmed the air.
Usually, Percy would never tell Micky about how he felt. He preferred to bottle all his feelings and lock them somewhere deep within him. Micky’s chest swelled with emotion: he was happy that Percy was comfortable enough to be so vulnerable with him, especially since it was a rare thing, but he was also pained on Percy’s behalf.
“I’m sorry,” Micky signed, though the action felt useless in the face of everything.
“Don’t be,” signed Percy simply.
“None of this is your fault,” Micky signed desperately. “And, it makes sense that you feel like this,”
Percy looked at him with a blank facial expression. Micky mentally wished he was better at advice, at comforting people. He never knew what to say, or what the person wanted to hear. He was never that good at speaking to people anyway.
But now, he didn’t know what to tell Percy to make him feel like everything will be better eventually. Micky didn’t even know himself if that statement was true. He wished he could believe that.
Now here Percy was, vulnerable and allowing Micky to see it for once, and he didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t magically take the burden off his shoulders. Another thought occurred in Micky’s mind. He couldn’t forget that his father was still sick, and that he wasn’t getting better. There was nowhere they could both just go and hide from these problems that the world kept giving. A place to hide where they’d both be alone forever and nothing bad would happen to them ever again.
But he wasn’t a knight in shining armour. He couldn’t protect Percy like that. He was just Micky.
“And, I’m here for you,” continued Micky eventually, disliking that he couldn’t give Percy something more reassuring to hold onto. “You can always go to me. I’ll be here for you. And I will help you. I promise.”
Percy leaned slightly closer toward him, his facial expression softening from its previously pained expression.
Micky gulped at the proximity but he continued. “Whatever you need me to do. To be there. To distract you. To get you all the liquorice you could want. Anything. And I will keep helping you until you’re happy again. Me and Lola are always here to help.” He attempted a smile.
There was a long pause. Percy eventually smiled back, and Micky exhaled.
“Thanks. I appreciate that. I’m grateful to you, and Lola,” he paused. “And that I can be… honest with you. You can be honest with me too, Micky,”
Micky nodded in response.
Percy’s facial expression hardened again, though Micky could see the vulnerability etched in his eyes. He fiddled with the sleeves of his shirt, before continuing to sign again. “It’s an all consuming thing, honestly. I might never be the same. I wish everything could go back to the way it was.”
His face began to have an intensely pained expression, one that Micky isn’t used to seeing as he looked down. His facial expression softened again when he looked up to look at Micky directly.
“Enough about me. I meant what I said. I’m here for you, too.”
Micky paused. It was true that he worried about his father’s condition everyday, his heart sinking as day by day his health got worse and worse. But he felt like it was maybe a bit insensitive to bring it up in front of Percy. Especially with what happened with his dad. So, he didn’t bring it up.
But now, when Percy was implicitly giving him permission, Micky didn’t know what to tell him. He didn’t know if he could express it properly by signing it to him, or by writing it with words. He wasn’t articulate in the way Percy was. He didn’t know if he could explain it in any way. It just made him feel low. These days, he walked with slightly less spring in his step, and withdrew from conversations even more than he usually did. Even the pleasure of sugary sweets couldn’t entirely regulate his low mood. Suddenly he felt very isolated, and very alone.
Percy placed his hands on Micky’s shoulders, making Micky sigh as Percy grasped onto them. Micky placed his hands on his back in response. Percy then lifted his hands off Micky’s shoulders and embraced him in a hug.
It wasn’t like any of the hugs they had had before. It wasn’t chaste and light to the touch. It was all encompassing and almost overstimulating, just because it was Percy. The feelings Percy could produce from Micky, he felt to his core, deep in his gut like the affection burnt him from inside. Percy buried against Micky’s left shoulder, breathing heavily into it and Micky relished in the warmth of the sensation, of the feeling.
It was a while before Percy eventually pulled away, making Micky feel slightly disappointed. He held his breath and stepped back a little.
Micky was met with a bashful expression from Percy. It was clear as he bit his bottom lip and refused to make eye contact, looking slightly down at the ground. It was clear by the way his hands were clasped awkwardly at his sides. Embarrassed.
“Do you feel better?” asked Percy.
Micky nodded because it was true. Percy’s touch always made him feel better, feel lighter.
“Do you?” asked Micky.
Percy didn’t respond. So Micky knew he didn’t.
“Life might not go back to how it was. But things will get better from now. Things will improve… Maybe you need a distraction,” signed Micky eventually, frustrated by his own advice.
Percy exhaled again before giving a wry, bitter smile.
“Then distract me,” he signed, grinning as if it was a challenge.
Micky didn’t know or understand a lot of things. He didn’t complex maths equations, or why people liked horror movies. And he didn’t understand why people liked being so noisy - why they couldn’t be content with a peaceful, intimate quiet.
He didn’t know or understand what Leviathan wanted either, and why it had to be Percy. And he didn’t know why Percy’s father had betrayed him. There were so many unexplainable things in this world, and it made Micky uncomfortable. Even now, he didn’t know what Percy meant by distracting him. What did he want him to do?
However, when Micky looked at Percy, he understood a single truth about himself. That he needed him close all the time. That when he was away from him, Micky missed him terribly, always waiting for the next day he’d be with him again. And when Percy was near him, Micky felt like he was going to burst, his heart too full, his affection threatening to spill out, like a bag stuffed with too many sweets.
That’s what it felt like, being with Percy. It filled Micky with so many unexpected feelings, so many complex emotions that it was impossible to keep a lid on them all.
He suddenly understood in a flash that his heart ached for Percy. What he understood was that he wanted to touch him again, craving the comfort of Percy’s fingers on his body again.
Micky approached Percy, holding the side of his face with his thumb, as he leaned closer. He stepped back again, but only to look at Percy from slightly further away.. Percy blinked up at him, and Micky felt centered by his warm brown eyes.
Micky traced his fingers against the side of his cheek, and the lid on his feelings were pulled off. He grew excited and warm and fuzzy, the same feelings he always felt when he was with Percy, but suddenly magnified as he touched the softness of Percy’s skin. Percy smiled up at him shyly.
Micky leaned closer and kissed him, and it felt like a natural decision. Percy’s eyes widened as Micky kissed him softly, curiously. Percy placed his hands on Micky’s shoulders carefully. Percy closed his eyes first, Micky closed them after and felt a surge of happiness as Percy kissed back. Suddenly, energy coursed through his body, through his veins, the feeling similar to when he was energised with sugar. But in this case, Percy was energising him. Is Percy like sugar? he suddenly thought to himself as Micky ran his left hand through Percy’s soft, layered hair, satisfying his suppressed desire as he also appreciated Percy’s scent of liquorice. His heart beat against his rib cage furiously, like it was going to shoot out at any given moment. Micky felt like he was floating, like he was somewhere other than earth, like it really was just the two of them in the world.
They broke off to catch their breath, Micky taking in gasps of air, still looking at Percy, unable to tear his eyes off him. Percy’s hair was mussed, and Micky felt slightly prideful at the evidence.
Micky didn’t know what he expected when he took in Percy’s facial expression. Did he expect Percy to look happy, or relieved, or lovestruck? Micky wanted Percy to smile at him crookedly and mirror the affection Micky was feeling in his expression.
What he saw was the exact opposite. His facial expression was like a fresh wave of panic set over him, completely different from the timelessness and the sweet joy of before. His eyes were wide and he opened his mouth and closed it, abruptly stepping back.
“I’m sorry,” Percy signed quickly, a serious look on his face as he ran off, back into the house, leaving Micky alone in the garden.
Micky Tompkins, you are worse than a stickless lollipop.
Micky discarded the lollipop stick from his mouth and threw it across the room toward the bin.
He lay in his cold bed, the soft sheets and pillows hard and uncomforting. He wished the ground would swallow him up whole.
For the whole day, he had ignored Percy and Lola, and stayed in his room. He occasionally left his room to lurk around the mansion like a silent, solitary ghost, feigning innocence of any crime, when really he remembered what he did wrong perfectly well.
As much as he tried not to, he remembered a kiss, his lips against Percy’s, soft and light.
And then he remembered Percy’s look of revulsion, and Micky felt like his heart had dropped to his stomach.
He definitely needed to go see him and explain things later, but the thought of seeing Percy again was too much. Too painful, now that he had opened the lid on his feelings.
Micky had been replaying the scene in his head the whole day, and he could now identify what went wrong. Firstly, he was trying to help Percy by giving him advice, to help him through the terrible sadness he was feeling. Then, Percy was comforting him. But when Micky felt better, Percy didn’t, and Micky wanted to keep helping him.
So, Micky kissed him. And it was uncalled for, unasked for, and most likely didn’t help at all.
And under the guise that he was distracting Percy, instead of genuinely doing something that would actually help him, acting on his own desire, his own want.
Micky was familiar with wanting. Wasn’t everyone? He wanted to eat lollipops everyday, so he did. He wanted everything to be quiet, so he would wear his noise cancelling headphones and silence the world. If he wanted something, he would get it. Because nearly everything he wanted was obtainable.
But he also always wanted Percy , and he didn’t even know in what way. To be with him, to be near him, to touch him. He didn’t care how, but he wanted him.
Having at least one lollipop everyday is obtainable for Micky. His noise cancelling headphones are always in his bag, so they’re always obtainable too. But Percy was the exception.
Micky looked back on his actions, and he decided that he still enjoyed kissing him. He wouldn’t be able to say he didn’t. He remembered the gentleness, the affection of it leaving him breathless and almost knocking him off his feet, and the feeling of floating. The way his body felt so light he thought he was going to melt like chocolate under heat, his feelings gooey and uncontrollable. No. Micky didn’t regret it.
But what he did regret was Percy’s look of pain. He didn’t know what it meant, and Micky hated not knowing, because it was unsettling. Regardless, it didn’t look too good. Why else would Percy also avoid him? Well, he didn’t know if Percy was actually avoiding him since Micky was ignoring him first. Was Micky good at avoiding, or was Percy also ignoring him? Micky’s brain was like mush at this point.
Although, he still remembered Percy’s expression contorting with panic. That said it all, and Micky’s heart was heavy with the sadness of it. He wanted to make everything better again. He didn’t wish to take the kiss back, but he wanted to take the consequences back. Because he might have ruined everything now.
He sat up suddenly. An idea brewed in the corners of his mind.
I can fix this... maybe?
He speedily got up from his bed and sat down at his desk, scrambling for a pen and paper as he hurriedly opened drawers. He eventually found a blank piece of paper and a pen, then he wrote:
Percy,
Meet me in the gardens, nine in the morning tomorrow. I will explain myself.
— Micky :)
He couldn’t do it now, because it would be unbearable to talk to him. Tomorrow. It would be best tomorrow, he thought as he walked down the corridor to Percy’s room. He was going to apologise. Percy was upset, and that was all that mattered. If Percy didn’t like him back, if Micky liking him made him panic, there was nothing he could do about it.
All you can do is help him, he thought to himself, hovering behind Percy’s door and pushing the note underneath.
He went back to his lonely bedroom, hopped into his bed, and he felt a lone tear roll down his cheek. He needed to put the lid back on his feelings.
It was true that Percy was avoiding Micky. Which was bold, considering it was Micky’s house, but it seemed like Micky was avoiding him too. And Percy didn’t really know what to make of that.
It’s my fault, anyway, thought Percy bitterly. My fault, again.
What had Micky said? None of this is your fault. Percy supposed that even if that was true, it was his fault this time if his friendship with Micky was ruined. Which, it was starting to seem like.
Percy sighed into his pillow, pondering over Micky, Micky, Micky.
Firstly, Micky kissing Percy in the first place was… extremely surprising. He thought something like that could only happen in a dream. A dream where when he woke up, he would be slightly disappointed at the actual reality, terrifying as the thought was.
He would be lying to himself to say he hadn’t thought of kissing Micky occasionally. Occasionally, he would imagine the feeling of his lips against his, imagine pressing his hands against his cheeks. But, it would be pretty dangerous to think about often. A valuable friendship was on the line, and Percy knew he had to treasure and preserve it rather than ruin it with careless, thoughtless actions.
He never thought Micky would ever actually want to kiss him too. So, what was going on there? Micky liked him?
And what was Percy supposed to do with that information? It felt life changing but fragile . Like an old book. The contents contained something special, something that dangerously, terrifyingly made his heart stir, but the pages and spine were old and worn. One hasty action would tear the pages, break the binding. The book would be ruined.
Kissing Micky back was like bending the spine of a book to read it in a more comfortable position. It felt satisfying, but irreversible. What had happened was completely irreversible, destroyed what Percy had tried so hard to maintain. And Percy didn’t know what to do with himself because of it.
He never imagined that actually kissing Micky would feel that way. His fleeting daydreams didn’t compare to the actual reality. Percy’s stuttering heart, Micky’s lips on his, the sensation and intensity making Percy’s heart swell, it felt so full.
Too full. Now he knew what kissing Micky was like, how was he ever supposed to get over it? Forget friendship and never touching. His new found attraction, one that he hadn’t realised he was repressing for so long, released. He had dared to open the book fully. The pages were falling out now.
So, he ran. In hindsight, it was foolish. It was wrong of him, and it was unfair that he had left Micky hanging like that. Micky was already going through a lot, so he regretted it. But he didn’t know what to do. Thinking about the kiss made him revel in the sensation, but thinking about what it meant… All Percy knew was that it meant so much, now that their relationship had changed. And it was all mortifying.
A note was slid under the door. Micky? He thought immediately, without helping it. Percy got up from his bed and picked it up.
What? He thought immediately as he read it.
Something dangerous within him wished that Micky wanted to tell him a love confession. Maybe it was a ridiculous thought. But Percy couldn’t stop hoping it was regardless. But there’s no reason it is going to be one.
Percy should be the one to explain things. He was going to explain everything. Tomorrow.
Even though the sticky air was hot and humid, a cold chill went up Percy’s spine as he stood at the front of the garden, looking around nervously at the harmonious arrangement of flowers, looking at the back door of Tompkins Manor every now and then.
He wrapped his arms around himself to will himself to calm down. The note had made Percy beyond anxious - it was so ominous. I will explain everything. Funny that the note gave Percy another thing to lose sleep over last night.
He squinted in the distance, seeing a figure and he felt himself tense. Micky slowly walked towards him and Percy felt his heart beat frantically. Percy considered if it was too late to run as fast as he could. Again.
“Finally.” Percy grinned as Micky was in front of him. Micky was still wearing those candy cane pjyamas. He almost laughed.
“I’m sorry,” was the first thing Micky signed.
Percy held his breath.
“When you told me, ‘distract me’. I did it in a bad way. I know. I know you’re upset. So I’m very sorry for the kiss. It will never happen again,” he signed rapidly.
Percy’s head thudded. He felt like he had swallowed bile. What? That’s not really an explanation.
Was it wrong that his heart was thudding wildly, even before this conversation? And maybe it was partly because he was worried about what Micky had to say. Their friendship was on the line, and that was invaluable. If that was all ruined, Percy didn’t know what he would have done. But his heart had also beat with anticipation, with naive excitement for something special, something he didn’t understand. He knew this conversation would have been about the kiss, but Percy didn’t think Micky would just completely dismiss it.
Percy was the one who ran away. It was clear to Percy now that this was a terrible misunderstanding.
Percy shook his head. “Why can’t it ever happen again?”
Micky blinked repeatedly, his eyes fiery now compared to the sparkle they usually held. “What?”
“I would like for it to happen again.”
Micky paused. He looked really confused, and Percy wanted to laugh once more. “But, yesterday. You looked upset.”
Percy took in a deep breath, and exhaled. He supposed there was no going back now. But Micky deserved this explanation, and he deserved honesty.
“Yesterday, I stopped kissing you because I was scared of what it meant. For our friendship.”
Micky nodded, and Percy allowed himself to laugh properly at his earnestness. Micky raised an eyebrow in response and Percy’s heart felt warm, the feeling similar to drinking a hot chocolate in chilly winter.
“I didn’t realise…” continued Percy. That I could feel like that. “When you kissed me… I really liked it. I liked it so much that I didn’t know what to do. It was… terrifying. So, I ran away. And I’m sorry that I did. I didn’t mean to make you feel like you did something wrong. Because you didn’t.”
Percy beamed at him, and he decided he was just going to tell him. “I think I like you a lot, Micky.”
Micky always inexplicably understood what Percy wanted. If he wanted alone time, he would give it to him. If he wanted to be with him, Micky would keep him company. He always somehow knew. And Percy could understand what Micky wanted too.
“I like you too. You’re cute,” signed Micky.
”I don’t know,” signed Percy. “These days, I look like I’m going through my third divorce,”
“No,” signed Micky unconvincingly. “You don’t.”
Percy was pretty sure that the eye bags spoke for themselves.
“I like you, anyway,” Micky signed quickly. “Whatever state you’re in. I like you regardless of ups and downs. That’s why I like rollercoasters, too,”
Percy laughed again. “Thanks. Everything is just a mess.”
“You’re brave, Percy,” signed Micky finally.
“You are, too. We’re alike,” admitted Percy, his heart thudding.
Micky walked closer towards him, closing the distance. “We can take it slow.”
Percy felt his face grow hot and his heart beating furiously in its chest. It was all still overwhelming, though Percy realised he didn’t mind.
His body hummed with electricity, with heat as they drew closer to each other and kissed. Percy wrapped his hand around his neck, and relished the feeling of Micky’s hands on his back, feeling the warm sunlight shining down on them both. Percy couldn’t help the pride that swelled in his chest. He had ventured something terrifying and faced it head first now, and he was reaping the results for his bravery.
They stopped kissing at the same time to breathe and to look at each other, awed. Percy grabbed Micky’s hand and clasped it tightly, revelling in the touch.
That night, Percy asked Micky to come to bed with him.
Percy got in first, and Micky got in beside him. Percy eventually wrapped his arm around him, Micky’s back laying on Percy’s chest. He squeezed tightly around him, his hand on Micky’s stomach, delighting in the proximity. That he could have this in the first place.
He didn’t know if he would have another difficult night. Where he couldn’t sleep, and the thoughts would spiral. Where he’d continuously wonder why about everything that happened until a rough sleep eventually overtook him.
But tonight, he had Micky in his arms. He found himself wanting to pay attention to Micky instead, rather than go through timelines and questions in his head.
Percy felt the hairs on the back of Micky’s head tickle his face. He pressed his lips against the back of his neck, smiling against it.