“Some of that might’ve been shock,” the paramedic said. “It’s been quite a night for him. I was at the fire scene and I saw him carry that old lady out.”
“Benito carried her out?” Mickey said faintly.
The paramedic nodded. “And the cat who seems happy enough now, eh?” He tickled the big ginger cat’s ears, earning a chirruping purr in response.
Rosetta asked more questions.
He answered them while Mickey gave in to the pull in his chest dragging him back to Benito.
Mickey reached the bathroom as the other paramedic was packing up and rising to her feet.
Benito remained on the floor, leaning against the wall, head tipped back, eyes closed.
“Is he okay?” Mickey asked the paramedic.
She smiled. “I think so. You can call us back any time if you’re concerned about anything. But for now, something to eat and then some rest is probably the best thing for him.”
Mickey nodded, absorbing the repeated instructions.
The paramedic patted his arm and left the bathroom.
Mickey crouched beside Benito and took his hand. “You still with us?”
Benito cracked a heavy eye, colour already returning to his face. “Think so. What are you—fuck, how are you even here? Am I trippin’?”
Mickey squeezed Benito’s fingers hard enough that it had to hurt. “Gianna called me. I came running.”
“Why?”
“Because I fucking love you, that’s why. I—” Mickey snatched a shaky breath. “As stupid as it sounds after everything I’ve said before, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you—you damn fucking motherfucker. I—”
Mickey pressed the fist of his free hand to his lips, willing the words to stop spilling out. He stared at where his fingers wrapped so tightly around Benito’s, picturing Benito cold and grey.
Picturing him dead, lips and nose blackened by soot. “I love you,” he said again, almost to himself. “I don’t know what that means right now, but we can talk about it later, okay?”
Benito took a shallow breath, but the older paramedic appeared before he could speak.
“We’re leaving,” she said. “Are you staying here for the next few hours?”
“Of course he is.” Gianna slipped under the paramedic’s arm and into the bathroom. “He’s my brother’s boyfriend.”
A beat of silence blanketed the room.
Mickey cocked a brow at Benito.
Benito shook his head. “I got nothing, man. I fucking can’t.”
He closed his eyes. Mickey made room for Gianna, then claimed his place on the floor. “I’m staying. We all are.”
The paramedic nodded and left. Rosetta locked the front door and came to the bathroom door. “Gianna, it’s time for bed now.”
Gianna pressed herself tighter to Benito’s side. “But it’s morning already.”
“Exactly. You need to get some sleep.”
“No.”
“Yes.” Benito opened his eyes. “Go and get in my bed. I changed the sheets yesterday, so they don’t smell of boys.”
“I’m not getting in your bed, Beni. You are.”
“I’m fine right here, G.”
“Fuck off.”
“Don’t swear,” Benito said.
“Gianna,” Rosetta snapped at the same time.
Mickey laughed. “Wow. Okay. You have a couch, right? And I can go and find an airbed from somewhere. No one needs to be telling each other to fuck off right now.”
Gianna sat up and folded her slender arms. “I’m not getting in Benito’s bed.”
“Neither am I,” Rosetta said. “We’ll be fine on the couch, so no one needs to go anywhere that isn’t in this flat. Gianna, come on. The longer you take, the longer your brother will stay on the bathroom floor.”
Rosetta held out her hand. After a gentle push from Benito, Gianna took it and allowed herself to be towed from the bathroom.
The living room door shut a moment later, gifting Mickey a split second of peace before reality consumed him. Before he looked at Benito again and saw him broken on the floor.
“Hey.” Benito’s hand twitched weakly in Mickey’s. “You don’t have to be here.”
Mickey tore his gaze from the empty hallway and lost himself in Benito’s tired brown eyes. “I do, actually, because I’d rather die than be anywhere else.”
“I don’t deserve that. I hurt you.”
“I know.” Mickey couldn’t deny it. “But we’re more than what we do. At least, I hope so, or I’m not worth shit.”
Benito snorted. “You’re worth everything. I love you too . . . You know that, right?”
“You don’t need to say that.”
“It’s true.”
Mickey stood and filled the glass by Benito’s sink with water. He crouched down again and held it to Benito’s mouth so he could drink. “Can I ask you something?”
Benito nodded, licking his dry lips.
“Have you eaten anything since the shitty pizza I fed you on Saturday?”
“What?”
“Your blood sugar was really low. And Rosetta said you didn’t eat dinner.”
“Oh. Fuck. I don’t know. Maybe not . . . it’s been hectic, man. I—” Benito stopped and shook his head. “You probably don’t want to know.”
“I do. But maybe later? You need to get off this floor before you put down roots.”
Mickey helped Benito stand and guided him to the bedroom. His bed was perfectly made with fresh white sheets, like no one ever slept in it, but wherever Benito usually laid his head, he had little choice now. He was so dizzy he could hardly stand.
He sat on the edge of the bed and buried his face in his hands.
Mickey gave him a moment, then helped him into bed.
Benito shivered, still cold.
Mickey rubbed his arms, then turned to leave the room and raid the kitchen.
Benito clutched his hand. “Don’t go. Please—I—”
His breath caught.
“Hey, hey.” Mickey turned back and pulled Benito into a fierce embrace. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Benito made a low, broken sound.
Mickey rubbed his back and held him tighter. “Shh. Just breathe, man. I’m right here.”
24
Benito felt like death for hours. Shivers, cold sweats, coughing up a lung every ten minutes. And his head hurt more than he ever thought possible. It pounded and throbbed, and the only relief he could find was buried in Mickey’s bare chest, soaking up his scent and his warmth.
Drowning in him.
Clinging to him.
It was embarrassing as fuck, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. All that mattered was that his girls were safe and he was holding onto the fantasy that Mickey had said he loved him. Because that’s what it was—a fantasy. A dream. And he didn’t want to wake up, so he held onto the pain in his head, kept it close, so he could stay with Mickey a little while longer.
Eventually, though, his body fought back. The painkillers kicked in, and he fell into a deep, deep sleep. When he woke up, he was alone, and it made more sense than any dream he’d ever had.