My hand is throbbing, only getting worse when I bang on the door. I’m shaking so hard my teeth are chattering, and I don’t know if it’s because of what happened or because it’s the middle of winter and I’m only wearing a t-shirt.
“Coming, geez,” Mike shouts from inside, his eyes widening when he tugs the door open and sees that it’s me. “Alex?”
And I don’t know what happens.
I’m holding it together the best I can, and then Mike is there, and he’s wearing the pajama pants from the first time I saw him, and he’s beautiful, and I haven’t seen him in over a week.
I shatter, right there, on the spot.
“Mike-” I start, but I can’t finish because I can’t stop crying like a fucking baby.
“Hey,” his voice goes soft, and I don’t even hate it right now. “Hey, okay, come inside.”
“I need to—” I try, because I should explain, but the reality crashes over me again, and it comes out jumbled. “Ryan— I found my—”
He takes my hand and pulls me through the door. I let him move me as easy as breathing.
Easier, right now.
“He had my stuff.” I show him what I have, needing him to understand. “I thought it was my old roommate, but all along it was—”
“Okay,” he says, taking my stolen boxers from me, setting them down on the hall table, out of sight. “Let’s go sit down.”
Mike steers me to the couch when I don’t make a move to go anywhere myself. I sit down when he tells me to, listening to his footsteps up and down the stairs, and then he’s back with the grey blanket.
The one I put over him that last night.
He puts it around my shoulders, and I pull it tight around myself, trying to get the tears to stop, to get myself under control. He sits on the coffee table directly in front of me, close enough that our knees are touching.
“You’re freezing.”
I cross my arms under the blanket, nodding. “Left my stuff at Ryan’s.”
“Did you walk here?”
“Yeah,” I say, punctuating that with a sniffle.
He puts his hand against my cheek, more careful than he’s ever been with me, and I close my eyes for a second, leaning into the contact. I think I whimper when he pulls back. “Tell me what happened.”
I tell him everything.
It comes out messy and out of order, and I have to stop several times. But I tell him about the drawer and the notebook and the underwear. Ryan locking the door, and the way he called mebaby. When he tried to kiss me.
I shake my head. “He’s been my friend for two years, and the whole time he was just waiting for what he really wanted.”
Mike can’t conceal his anger, but I can tell he’s trying. He’s keeping his face still, letting me talk, he doesn’t say a word. But I can see the fury in his eyes. “Did he hurt you?” he asks, as calm as he can.
“No.” I shake my head. “But I thought he might want to. So I hit him.”
“You hit him.”
“Yeah.”
He looks down at my hand and holds out his. I let him have it, mostly to feel his rings against my skin again. He presses along my knuckles, and I wince at the third one, but it’s not broken.
I know what broken feels like.
When he’s done, he doesn’t let go. And suddenly the room feels very quiet.
