He didn’t realise he was crying until Benito wiped the tears from his cheeks. “Shit, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Benito held his face and kissed him. “Just be okay. I love you.”
“I am okay, honest. I love you.”
Mickey composed himself, got up, and dealt with the condom. Benito didn’t move, save to drop his arm over his eyes, chest heaving. Heart full, Mickey lay down again and nudged Benito until he looked at him. “Did I hurt you?”
Benito shook his head. “Not even close. I just—fuck. I’ve never had sex like that. It’s blown my mind.”
“Mine too. What was left of it, at least.”
“Fuck off. You’re the cleverest person I know.”
“Get better friends then.”
Benito snorted, apparently too wiped out to argue. And cold too, despite the sweat still beading his skin. Mickey had noticed that since the fire, how Benito couldn’t seem to get warm.
He retrieved the rumpled sheets from the floor and tugged them up the bed. He covered them both, then coaxed Benito into his arms. Then he relayed what Dom had told him on the phone about the electrical fault and the fire.
Benito breathed through his nose, blinking hard.
Mickey stroked his face. “What is it?”
“Nothing.”
Mickey waited.
Benito sighed. “I was scared it might’ve been Asa. That he’d lied to me about letting me go and tried to kill me and the girls as revenge.”
“That’s a big thing to be scared of without telling anyone.”
“And stupid. Asa’s a dick, but he’s not a mass murderer.”
“Good to know.”
Benito snorted, but his shudders remained, wracking his strong body as if he’d never find peace.
Mickey held him closer. “You’re safe here. You know that, don’t you? From everything, not just gang wars and fires.”
Benito’s shivers didn’t ease, but he smiled. “I know. I’m sorry I haven’t been that for you this whole time. It kills me that I’ve made your head a bad place to be.”
“I do that all by myself, mate. And you know what?”
“What?”
Mickey tightened his embrace around Benito’s trembling shoulders. “Caring about you gave me a safe place... from my own fucking head. You made mistakes, but so did I, lots of them, long before I met you. I never should’ve put that pressure on you in the first place. Maybe if I hadn’t, you could’ve talked to me before you went all fucking gangster rogue by your damn self.”
“None of this is your fault—”
“Shh.” Mickey laid a finger against Benito’s lips. “We think what we think and we’re probably both wrong. It doesn’t matter anymore. I’ve got you, okay? It’s over.”
Benito nodded, then he fell asleep. His arms were a vice around Mickey’s waist, and he held on tight all night long.