Page 79 of Game Misconduct
Mike’s hands were smoothing down his hair, a sweaty mess like the rest of him. Mike didn’t seem to mind. “Well, as long as it’s working. You’re not fucking going anywhere, okay?”
“Hah. Okay.”
Mike pulled back enough, just enough, so that Danny could see he was glaring. There was a tension in his body, in the straining muscles. “Fucking promise me, asshole. You’re notgoinganywhere.”
He thought about laughing it off. Or making some kind of a joke about how Mike was really good at sweet talk. But that was exactly what it was. “I promise. Asshole.”
“Good,” Mike said, and relaxed again, let Danny lean into him. “Hey. Uh, you know? Let’s not fuck tonight, all right? Maybe we could just like...watch a movie and chill or something.”
“I—yeah. Mike. Thank you. I...this wasn’t easy.”
“I know, Danny. Hey. I got you, all right?”
Strangely, Danny almost believed it. He let Mike pick something out and settled in for the long haul. But he only made it halfway through whatever superhero movie was playing before drifting off.
He didn’t dream.
Mike woke up early to the sound of Danny’s phone alarm. He was too warm, kind of sweaty, and wrapped up in Danny’s arms.
“Don’t your like...fuckin’ arms fall asleep?” he rasped. “Lemme go.”
“It’s not too bad,” Danny mumbled back, voice thick with sleep. He opened his eyes and smiled, and Mike’s stomach and chest had that swooping feeling he was unused to and didn’t know if he liked. But they were there.
Danny didn’t even seem to mind Mike’s gross morning breath when he leaned in for a kiss. They both had flights to catch, though, so he wasn’t trying to stay in bed, even though it was warm and stupid comfortable, and Danny was doing his level best to make him forget the schedule.
But eventually, he managed it. Mike pulled on his jeans and shirt and hoodie, eyeing Danny nervously. It had been, like, kind of a big conversation last night, and every time he thought about the fact that he was the only person Danny had ever told about it, his chest felt like it was going to burst. It was like being sad, for Danny, but happy, because he’d at least started talking, and he wanted to talk toMike.
The feelings shit was weird, man.
By the time Danny had gotten his bag together and they were ready to say goodbye at the door, Mike was thinking about all of the things he wanted to say, but every time he tried, he had this weird lump in his throat and the words wouldn’t come out. He ended up kind of ramming himself into Danny, half a hug, half a headbutt. Danny didn’t seem to mind, just ran his hand over Mike’s freshly shaved head and down his neck, a strangely comforting gesture considering how last night had went.
“Leaving fucking sucks,” he mumbled into Danny’s chest.
“Sure does, bud,” Danny said, and pulled away with a sigh. “All right. We gotta go, or we aren’t gonna go.”
Mike went first, because they couldn’t even leave together, and he kind of felt like...pretty shitty about it.
Correction: the feelings shit wasreallyfucking weird.
Mike felt sometimes like he was going through that period when he was sixteen again, when he’d finally hit his growth spurt and shot up five inches in six months. His whole body had ached. It was like that, except with like...his brain, and understanding things. It was like having a constant headache. Usually he didn’t think about things at all if he could help it. But now, he thought about things all the time, and he couldn’t make the thoughts stop. He thought about his feelings, and other people’s feelings. It was exhausting, and he really didn’t know how people did itallthe time. He tried to go about his business like usual, but mostly it was hard.
He thought about Danny all the time, even when he tried to keep it confined to their calls or texts, which were admittedly a lot. He thought about Danny when he was hanging out with Bee, when he was making himself dinner, when he was at morning skate, sometimes when he was on the ice fighting someone. He thought about Danny getting injured and Danny pushing himself too hard and making it worse—because what a fucking Danny thing to do, honestly—and Danny grinding along for a decade hurtingallthe time because he loved hockey too much to quit.
One weekend afternoon after morning skate, he was at the boxing gym again. It still made him feel better when people punched him, although to make Coach less anxious about the whole thing, he had started wearing protective gear. Even with some cushioning on his head, it was usually a good way to clear his head. He was in the ring with Arjun Sharma again, a guy who probably weighed about the same as Mike but had two inches on him, trading punches, when he had a realization.
It was such a blindside hit that he actually froze in place, and it was a good thing he had given in to Coach’s demands, because Sharma punched him right in the side of the head.
“Dude, what the hell?” Sharma said. “I wouldn’t have hit you like that; you just froze.”
“Uhhh...” Mike’s ears were ringing, a little, because the headgear cushioned some of the blow but not all of it. “Sorry. I just—had a thought.”
“You had athought?”
“Yeah, you know, like...never mind.”
Sharma was looking at him across the ring like he had lost his mind. He probably could have phrased that better. It sounded like he never had thoughts, which wasn’t true. He had them almost constantly, much to his dismay.
Mike mumbled, “I have to go,” ducked out of the ring, and headed straight for the gym’s changing area.