Like that made it better.
“Look,” Benito said when Mickey failed to speak. “We don’t have to do shit, or we can do it all, Idon’t care. Just let me drive you home.”
“I need my car,” Mickey said absently.
“Not tonight, you don’t. Or this morning. Whatever fucking time it is.”
Mickey had no idea. He’d left his house after hours of pacing the kitchen, tugging at his hair, and opening and closing his message thread with Benito, all the while imagining himself tapping the local shithead for a gram bag. Actual time had ceased to matter. Andfuckif he didn’t still crave that dirty, tainted high. “I don’t know why you want to be with me right now. I keep tellingyouno, then doing shit that pulls you back in. Why are you okay with that?”
Benito’s gaze darkened. “Is this the part where you tell me you’re a shit human again? Because I’m fucking done with that.”
“Why, though? It’s all true.”
“So? What if none of it matters right now? What if it’s just you and me for a while? It’s all still gonna be there tomorrow.”
“That’s kind of my point, mate.”
“Is it?”
Mickey shook his head. “Fucked if I know. I’m not as drunk as I need to be.”
“For what?”
“To stop thinking. My brain hurts.”
Benito’s expression softened. He narrowed the distance between them again and took Mickey’s hand. “Trust me,” he whispered. “Just for tonight... please?”
Something buried deep inside Mickey crumbled. He found Benito’s other hand and tangled their fingers together. His lips ached to kiss him again, but he just nodded. “Let’s go.”
* * *
Fresh air sobered Mickey up. Perhaps he’d never been that drunk in the first place, Benito couldn’t tell. All he knew was he couldn’t stand the vibrating tension that made Mickey’s hands shake and his eyes wild.
He drove them to Mickey’s house in Northamptonshire, glad Mickey had shown little interest in a grand tour of Benito’s Milton Keynes flat. It wasn’t the worst place he’d ever lived, but he hated it anyway. Perhaps he’d have gone home with just about anyone to avoid it.
No, you wouldn’t.
Only Mickey.
Two simple words that made Benito’s head spin too hard for him to stop and make sense of what they were doing. Only Mickey’s hand on his thigh kept him grounded as he drove, and he latched onto the warmth of his palm. Bathed in it, as if the rest of the world had ceased to exist.
It was almost too easy to forget how he’d spent his evening before he’d meandered into Freefall.
The night was fading when he pulled up outside Mickey’s house. He parked on the kerb and switched the engine off. “You don’t have to invite me in. I can come back later and give you a ride to your car.”
Mickey snorted softly. “As if that’s happening.”
“Which part?”
“The part where I leave you in this car and go inside without you. We can worry about the rest tomorrow.”
“It is tomorrow.”
“Later, then.”
“Works for me.” Benito tried for a smile, but it hurt.
Mickey nodded and got out of the car. Benito followed suit and trailed him to his front door and inside.