Date: Sat, 19 Sep 2015 17:13:54 +0000 (UTC)
From: John Gerald <connectwriter@yahoo.com>
Subject: Mickey 10

"Mickey, wake up!" he heard, along with hard, incessant knocking on the
door or his bedroom.

"What?" he responded, his voice stretching out the single syllable word as
he tried to regain consciousness. "What time is it?"

"Almost nine.  Have you looked at the news this morning?" Sara shouted from
the other side of the door.

But before Mickey could answer, she added, "Oh heck with it, I'm coming
in," as she shook the large, old glass handle loose until it turned and
opened the door.

Mickey instinctively pulled the covers up over himself, not even aware if
anything private was exposed, "What's going on?" he asked, his head now
under the thin blanket, hiding his face.

"Go to WikiLeaks," she ordered as she yanked the covers back
down. Retrieving the laptop from the desk, she forced it into his lap.

He hadn't a clue as to what was going on, but she seemed so worked up he
couldn't help but take her at least semi-seriously. As he pushed himself up
against the creaky headboard he booted up the machine followed by a series
of continuous click-click-click sounds as he opened the browser, typed in
the address and finally opened up the site.

Glancing at the screen, he suddenly bolted up in the bed.

"Ivy League Health Center Website Hacked. Records of Conservative scion
Drew Patterson's Secret Visits to Counselor Exposed."

"What!" Mickey shouted. "What is going on? How can that happen?"

"They posted almost everything," she said. "I found a couple linked from
the New York Times website article, but they have most of the original
documents here, she said, leaning over and pointing at a link.  "You might
want to read the originals for yourself."

He practically threw the computer onto the floor, "I will NEVER read
that. I wasn't meant for me or for anyone else," he yelled out. The
objection came out with the force of a hurricane, driving her away from the
bed and almost out the door.

But just as suddenly, it was almost still again.  "How could someone do
that to him? Who? Why?" he murmured to himself.

She stood by the door, folding her hands across her chest, afraid to poke
the tiger again.  "All the articles say that he couldn't be found for
comment. Would you know where he might be?" she asked, taking a step back
toward the bed.

He quickly rotated around to snatch his phone off of the nightstand and
silently punched in a single digit speed dial.


"Damn!" he called out after what seemed like forever.  But it wasn't more
than the time it would normally take for the six rings he heard on the
other side of the line before it dropped into voicemail. "I'll text
him. Sometimes he's in class or something and can't answer the phone. But
he always answers my texts right away."

She raised her eyebrows bud didn't interrupt him.

`d where r u?' he wrote in a panicked shorthand."  He stared at the screen,
barely breathing.

Even though it was only a text, he held up his hand to Sara when she
started to speak again. The usual street noise seemed to fade away as
Mickey continued to gaze at the small text box. It looked like a black hole
to him, sucking in the entire room.

"Don't mind me," he said to Sara, at this point not caring if he was
exposing his boxers or any other part of his body as he pulled off the
covers and swung his legs over edge of the bed.  Even with his body in
motion, his eyes continued to be fixed on the screen, like his head and the
phone were part of one invisible apparatus.

Not losing his concentration for even a moment, he gently placed it on the
chest-level top surface of the dresser as he stretched out his arm to the
nearby closet. His hand rattled some empty hangers, knocking at least one
to the floor, until it found a hook on the side wall with the jeans he was
looking for.  After maneuvering them around the metal hangers, he was able
to pull them over his legs one by one, all the while not even glancing at
what he was doing.

He did the same with the drawers below his eyes, feeling around until he
thought that he had found the right shirt, something that would work
whether it was hot or cold out.  Although it felt like one of the shirts he
was searching for, he realized that it was an old, tight fitting running
shirt after he started to pull if over his head. But there was no time to
change course, as it required a momentary diversion from the screen that he
didn't want to repeat.

He did the same exercise with his shoes, this time bringing his phone down
with him as he searched with one hand underneath the bed for a pair of
running shoes, just in case he had to move fast. Fortunately, once he
fished those out, it was relatively easy to lay the phone on the bed as he
sat on the edge and laced them up without looking.

"Something is wrong. Something is really wrong," he said, and for the first
time looked away from the glowing screen that suddenly went dark.  It was
just the battery saving mechanism, but like Mickey, it seemed that the
phone, like him, had given up, too.

Sitting down next to him on the bed, she put her hand on his back.

"What's happening, Sara?" I don't understand. What's happening?" He said as
he nervously turned the phone over in his hand.

She exhaled. "I don't know, Mickey, I really don't know. But remember: his
family has done some things that have made a lot of enemies.  Me included,
if I'm honest," she replied.  But even I can see that he's a good guy. And
you like him, which says even more," she added.  "But he can't escape the
family that he belongs to, as unfair as it might be. It will always follow
him."

It was now so quiet in the room that they could even hear the faintest
sounds of traffic on Broadway.  The outside world seemed to return.

"Any idea where he might be?" she asked.

He got up off the bed, but didn't answer her question.  "You know what? I
think that he had a fight with Dave last night, or some kind of blow-up
before dinner. He looked upset...that's why..." Mickey said to himself as
he started to pace the tiny room, quickly turning back and forth.  "I'll
bet that asshole had something to do with this."

"Mickey, did you hear what I asked?"

"Uh,,,sorry...I was just...thinking," he replied.  What did you say?"

She got off the bed and stopped him, placing her hands back on his
shoulders, which seemed to trigger a rapid blinking of his eyes.

"Are you OK?" she asked softly."

He bit his lip and held it until the blinking stopped.

"Yeah, I'm OK, I can`t seem to hold a thought right now, guess
I'm...distracted...what did you ask again?"

"No worries," she replied, continuing to hold his shoulders. She wanted to
chuckle at the understatement, especially for someone who was usually such
a model of self-control and concentration.  "Where do you think he might
be?" she asked instead.  "You would probably know as well as anyone. Is
there any place he likes to go to get away from things, have privacy?
Someplace besides his house."

"His house, that would be the first place I'd think of, Sara. I mean, he
has his Dog, Daisy. She relaxes him. He loves to play with her and have her
with him, that's where I'd go.  So why do you say `someplace besides his
house?'"

"You won't want to hear this Mickey, but I saw some tweets that said the
press had practically surrounded the place.  But he wasn't there."

He glared at her. "Are these people crazy? They can't leave him alone? It
isn't bad enough that some jerk steals his counseling records, his most
private thoughts, and posts them to the internet? And now he gets harassed
for it!"

"Like I said, Mickey, he can't..."

"I know, I know. For better or worse, it's part of his fate. But it's not
fair,'" he said as his fingers slowly moved through his hair. He was trying
to give up his almost debilitating outrage, but not his sense of injustice.

"Fair or not, you've got what you've got and now you need to figure out how
to help him," she responded.  "So back to the question. Where could he go?
Besides his house, was there any other special place that he might head to?
Favorite restaurant? Hidden corner of the library tower?" she said as she
again stood next to the door but now leaning against it.

"Let me think. He could be at..."  Mickey paced again as he started listing
whatever places he could think of, spots that he and Drew had been to
together, sites of classes or venues where he'd played sports or worked
out. The list was long, but it was mostly campus locations that, while
probably having enjoyable memories, weren't necessarily `special'.

"Wait!" he suddenly exclaimed, freezing in place, looking at the window,
which still had the shade drawn down.

"Yes?" she responded, moving away from the door and toward him.

"When we first met, a car...no...a cab, we were in a cab heading back here
from the Health Center, and he mentioned..." He spun around, facing her.

"Can I borrow your car keys?"

"Are you in any condition to drive?"

Mickey held out his hand.  "Please!"

"OK," let me get them out of my purse," she said as she turned and walked
out to her room, which was on the other side of the apartment. He followed
right behind.

Before she even had them completely out of the floppy leather bag he
snatched them from her fingers.

"Thanks!' he said as he ran out of the room,

"Where are you going?" she yelled out to him as the front door was yanked
open and banged against the hard plaster wall.

"East Rock!" he cried out.  He pulled the door behind him but didn't wait
to see if it even closed.

She heard the screech of tires before closing and latching it behind him.

***

There seemed to be an endless succession of stop signs, traffic lights and
speed bumps that he'd never noticed before. Every block seemed to have a
new obstruction. But with all the stops, one other thing got his attention.

There seemed to be someone following him. And not just one car. It looked
like at least two, maybe even three.

`Why?' he asked himself.

He could hardly fathom the idea that they could be following him to
Drew. Why on earth would they single him out amongst Drew's huge circle of
friends?  Maybe they were stalking out lots of people, he thought. In that
case, if he happened to be right, there was no way that he'd be the one to
betray him!

There was some kind of event at what looked like a school coming up on his
right, with crowds waiting to cross over at the intersection in front of
the campus where the stoplight was just turning yellow. He quickly glanced
to both sides of the street to make sure that no pedestrians were about to
step out in front – then he punched the gas, zooming through the light.

`Whoa!' he thought to himself. Sara's car had a lot more power than he ever
suspected and it flew through the intersection. He wasn't sure if he was
legal or not, but knew that it would be risky for anyone to attempt the
keep on his tail.

After getting farther down the block, he glanced at his mirror and saw for
certain that the surging crowd cut off the cars behind him. He gave a sigh
of relief.

But it was only a momentary respite, however, as the park entry appeared on
the same right hand side of the street.  After turning in, he had to be
careful on the windy path that led up to the summit, and more than once
felt like he might lose control on one of the hairpin turns. It was a big
park, probably several hundred acres, but he was convinced that when Drew
mentioned the park he was almost certainly talking about the summit, with
its legendary panoramic views.

It wasn't a surprise that Drew would like it up here – the view over the
city was beautiful, and the adjacent park areas were an oasis in the middle
of the racket of urban life. But there wasn't time to enjoy any of that
right now – he had to find Drew.

After reaching the summit and parking in what he thought was an
inconspicuous space, he made his way on foot to the summit.

He scanned in all directions to make sure he didn't miss anything,
searching for any kind of clue. There were distant sounds of children
laughing, but nothing close by to give any hints.  All the while, he said
to himself, `he'll be at the top, I know he will."

But before he found Drew, Daisy had found him. He couldn't quite see her
behind a grove of trees, but she must have smelled him as she started her
unique bark. The sound got his heart pounding.

As he cleared the foliage he could see Drew, sitting on the bottom stair of
the tall memorial monument at the center of the park, the panorama spread
out in before him. Drew was looking at Daisy. She barked, then looked up at
the approaching Mickey. He suddenly stood up, but didn't move from the
stair as Mickey approached.

Even from a distance, he could see that Drew's eyes, his whole body, looked
weary, as if he hadn't slept.  He had on a rumpled short sleeve polo shirt
that hung out over what looked like his oldest pair of jeans over an
equally worn pair of black sneakers. It looked like he had slept in them.

The shirt was unbuttoned, and he could see the cords and sinew of Drew's
neck muscles disappear into a light dusting of chest hairs, He looked
almost like he had just worked out, but Mickey knew the exhaustion was as
much mental as physical.

The lack of movement, of the usual welcoming smile, startled Mickey. But he
tried keep focused.

"Drew..." Mickey said as he carefully walked toward him. Drew retreated a
step, moving away from him, a reaction that caused a lump in his throat.

Daisy, who had leaned against Drew's side and stayed with him, didn't move
back with him, but Mickey halted.

"You shouldn't be here," Drew said. "I mean, um...you don't need to..."
Clearly confused, he stumbled for words.

Mickey's head was pounding, but he couldn't stop now.

"I heard what someone did Drew. I...I don't know what they would do that, I
don't understand it. But are you OK?"

"Did you read it?" he asked, not responding to Mickey's question.

"No!" he replied, unable to contain his emotions. Then, looking again at
Drew's worn face, he forced himself to speak more calmly.  "I'll never read
it. That stuff wasn't meant for me or anyone else to know about." It was
not only truly how he felt, but it seemed like it would be the answer that
Drew would want to hear.

But his reaction was the opposite. It almost looked like he slumped down a
little more, his head now looking at the ground. "You're probably the only
person who should have read it," he replied, looking away from Mickey, his
eyes downcast.

"Drew, I need to say something to you..." Mickey said before pausing for a
moment, his throat suddenly tightening up. He looked at Drew, who slowly
raised his head and looked back into Mickey's eyes.

"I know what you want to say, Mickey.  But you shouldn't, you should get as
far away from me as possible.  Don't you see what could happen!" he said,
his voice suddenly desperate and his breathing heavy.

"In football I was the bull's eye because of my family, but it was only me
that they were after. Remember that guy who tried to attack me after your
lecture? That wasn't meant for you, I was the target," he said, the words
now pouring out. "Do you remember what happened at the basketball game,
when that guy was going to slam into you? That was meant as a `hit,'
because Dave figured out that you were... important to me."

Mickey took a step forward – but this time, Drew didn't retreat. He
stayed. But Mickey couldn't help noticing how much Drew was shaking.

"If something happened to you because of me, I couldn't live with myself,"
Drew pleaded as he looked away from him.

Mickey didn't flinch. "I never feel safer than I do with you, Drew," he
said as he took another step toward him.  Again, he didn't move away, but
he didn't' come to meet Mickey, either. He just started talking, his voice
again quiet but trembling, like his whole body.

 "I didn't have feelings for girls, I didn't know why guys said all that
stuff about them, how this one was attractive, that one was hot. I didn't
understand it. All I felt was that I had liked certain things
about...guys," he said.

"I didn't really know what that meant either, but I knew it wasn't a good
thing.  The remarks my Dad made about people like that, what people said at
church, on the radio, everywhere around me," Drew said. "It was all bad,
really bad. I just hoped that I'd get married and everything would be
OK. That was the plan. Then he paused, his mouth almost just gaping open.

"Then what?" Mickey asked.

He barely spoke above a whisper.  "Then...you."  His voice was quiet, but
no longer trembling.

"I wasn't sure what it was," he continued, slightly louder.  "I didn't know
what to do. Then I saw an article about the health center, and how you
could talk to someone and they were confidential, no one would know, So I
went and saw one of the counselors and when I described what I felt and
all, she told me that I was probably gay, and that there was, well, nothing
wrong with me."

"She's right, Drew," he said, almost biting his lip as he took another step
and was right in front of him.

"I know that Mickey, in spite of all the stuff I heard growing up. But now,
how can I do any of this to you? If something happens to you because of
me..."

Mickey reached out his hands and took Drew's in his. He didn't flinch or
pull away, but he didn't return the gesture either.

"I don't want you to get hurt. Please. Anything but that," he weakly
pleaded.

When he touched Drew, his own pounding heart seemed to fade away. He moved
closer still, slipping his arms gently around Drew's body. He was stiff and
didn't return the gesture, but he didn't resist either.

He was just about to rest his head on Drew's shoulder when he suddenly
heard Drew pull in what sounded like a last, deep desperate breath.

"Damn you!" he said.

Then Drew's arms suddenly enveloped him...and pulled him into a kiss.

When their lips touched it seemed to drain the blood from Mickey's head. He
felt faint, but Drew had wrapped his arms around him so tightly that he
couldn't have collapsed if he'd wanted to. And he just kept kissing.

Pulling his face away momentarily, Drew said, "I've always...wanted to do
that..."  Like Mickey, he was panting, and the words came between breaths.

Without giving him time to speak, Drew again squeezed tightly.  But instead
of kissing, he rubbed his cheek across the wounded side of Mickey's face.

`Just like last night,' Mickey thought to himself. He wasn't delusional
after all! But where it was only for a moment on the first occasion, Drew
didn't let up, using only his cheek to gently stroke back and forth across
the rough ridges formed by the numerous scars.

The mutilations couldn't have made it easy for Drew's smooth skin. Maybe if
felt to him more like the rough scraping of tectonic plates, Mickey
thought. But then, suddenly, there was dampness in between, and the
friction all went away.

Their faces now seemed to almost glide across each other. It took him a few
moments to realize that the moisture was coming from his own eyes.

Now it felt like he couldn't stand up for another second. But just when his
legs felt the weakest, Drew's grip became the tightest as he started to
slowly rock Mickey back and forth. And he wouldn't let go – `he'd never
have to let go!' Mickey thought to himself. Inhaling deeply, he could
finally enjoy the scent that had only been briefly, surreptitiously,
experienced before.

When Drew finally loosed his grip, he only released it enough to move his
arms down to Mickey's waist, where he reestablished a firm grip.

"Are you all right?" he asked. Mickey's eyes were red and moist all
around. Just like Drew's.

"Yeah, yeah, um, I'm good...no, I'm great! I'm really great!" he repeated,
smiling in between sniffling.

Doing everything he could to get his bearing again, Mickey steadied
himself, then raised his arms up and rested them on Drew's shoulders. "How
are you holding up?" he asked.

Drew gave a crooked smile. "Um...if feels like I just jumped off a cliff,"
he said. Mickey massaged the back of his neck, for the first time feeling
Drew's skin with his own hands.

It was smooth and soft. But beneath the surface he could tell that the
muscle was corded and tense, which he just instinctively tried to massage
away.  As he moved his fingers and again inhaled he felt his dick get very
hard, very quickly. He tried to put that thought out of his head.

"I think that maybe Dave did me a favor, though he certainly didn't intend
to," Drew continued.

"What do you mean?" Mickey asked, moving his fingers onto Drew's shoulders,
which were equally tensed.

Drew told him about what had happened the previous night, how Dave had
discovered the visits to the Health Center and the threat that he made.

Mickey's hands stiffened at the mention of Dave. `What a pig!' thought to
himself.

Drew cleared his throat as Mickey felt him shifting his stance, like he was
steeling himself to say something.

"These next few days, maybe weeks, I don't know...they're going to be
hard," Drew said, his arms, now underneath Mickey's, stroking his body.
"There's going to be a lot of attention, a lot of...stuff. It's not right
that you get dragged into it all, Mickey.  I'll do my best to keep them
away from you."

`Christ! Don't touch me like that!' he said to himself. On one hand, Drew
was being serious about the risks and even threats that could be coming
their way. On the other hand, the feel of those masculine hands with the
blond hair stroking his body, with only his thinnest t-shirt separating
their skin, was infinitely distracting.

"Whatever happens...' he started to reply, then noticed Drew's own heavy
breathing as the pressure of his hands gently increased.  They now followed
the curves of his muscles around Mickey's back.

"Oh, gosh, I didn't mean to, I..." Drew said, loosening his grip and moving
his hands back down to Mickey's waist. "I...I just like...um...touching
you."

They both smiled as Mickey's hands moved down to slip Drew's grip back on
his torso. "Me, too," he said before giving Drew a soft kiss on the cheek.

Mickey pulled them close again and rested his head on Drew shoulder,
reveling in the firm grip that returned from Drew. He inhaled and squeezed
Drew as hard as he could, trying to get the kind of grip that could only
futilely catch the closeness that they both wanted.

						***

It was only Daisy's barking that pulled them out of their trance. Mickey
looked around, but before he could even tell what was going on, he saw a
microphone out of the corner of his eye.

"So the rumors are true, Mr. Patterson? What do you think that your family
will think about this?"