Almost 23
“Hey, Ian. I feel kind of shitty doing this over voicemail, but you know I could never do this face to face, because every time I see you…listen, I can’t do this anymore. All the lying, and the secrets, I think that’s being pretty fucking selfish on your part, and…and I’m sorry, I really am, because I really love you…course you know that…but it’s just not going to work. Anyway, I have to go. Take care, Ian. I’ll see you.”
--
Michael woke up to the scent of freshly brewed coffee. He sat up, rubbing at his eyes, then glanced around blearily. Ian was sitting at the foot of his bed, smiling faintly, a cup in his hand of what Michael assumed was the coffee he smelled.
“What?”
Ian rolled his eyes. “You show up at my door, make a mess in my guest room, and have the nerve to demand ‘what’ when I try to wake you up? It’s past noon, by the way.”
“Not by my clock.” Michael yawned, stretching one arm towards the ceiling. His other hand moved languidly to scratch sleepily at his stomach.
“Here.” Ian held the coffee out to Michael, who took it silently. “Now, you mind telling me what you’re doing here?”
“I needed a break.” Michael took a sip of the drink and instantly burned his tongue. Damn Ian and his stupid hot coffee.
Ian frowned slightly. “Who else knows you’re here, Mike?”
“No one.” Michael set the coffee aside and flopped back into the covers. “And don’t tell anyone.”
“Michael-“ Ian left off, as for all intents and purposes, Michael appeared asleep already. “Bastard.”
Ian sighed, moving towards the door. He wasn’t going to press, not now, in any case.
--
“I don’t want to fucking come home, okay? And I don’t want to fucking talk to him either. Just tell my mom I’m fine, and leave me the fuck alone!”
Michael threw his cell phone at the bed, glowering when it only bounced twice before skidding to a stop under a pillow. Ian peered in the doorway, a carefully neutral expression on his face.
“Everything all right?”
“Everything, is fine.” Michael sighed, running a hand through his hair. ‘When was the last time I cut it?’ he thought idly. Then, more bitterly, ‘It’s long because he liked it long.”
“I’m going on a run for groceries. Want anything?” Ian, still with his level voice.
“No thanks.” Michael managed a sort of half smile, because really, Ian was being very kind. “Let me know if you’re going to the pool though.”
“Tomorrow, mate. Get some more sleep, you look rough.”
“Yeah.”
--
It was nearly midnight when Ian’s cell phone went off. Thinking it might be Pieter, Ian picked it up. Caller ID showed a number he had never seen before, but Ian shrugged, answering anyway.
“Yeah?”
“Hey, Ian…” Crocker. Ian raised an eyebrow. Now things were getting more interesting. “Is Michael there? His phone is off…”
“He’s sleeping,” Ian replied, not sure if Michael actually was, but not caring.
“Oh.” A long pause. “Well, uh…can you tell him to call me when he wakes up? It’s important.”
“I’ll see.”
“Thanks.” Another pause, as though Crocker wanted to say something more, then the line went dead. Ian put his phone down, his fingers tapping thoughtfully.
--
Michael sat at the edge of the pool, contemplating the water. He should keep training, but what was the point? So he could go back on the racing circuit and keep having to deal with him?
“You getting in?” Ian called from one lane away.
“In a minute.”
Ian sank beneath the water, resurfacing next to him a few seconds later. “You know, Crocker called last night.”
Michael looked away. “I don’t care.”
Ian reached over, letting his hand rest on Michael’s knee, nothing suggestive, only supporting. “Mike…what did you need a break from?”
Instead of answering, Michael slid into the water and slipped away.
--
Ian was halfway on his way to being asleep when he felt his blankets shift. He shivered slightly and rolled over and found Michael lying next to him, watching him with bright eyes.
“It’s late,” Ian murmured.
“I know.” Michael burrowed deeper until he was tucked under Ian’s arm, his own lanky arm thrown across Ian’s stomach.
“What are you running from, Mike?” Ian asked sleepily, rubbing Michael’s back gently. It was nice to have someone sleeping next to him again.
“Everything.” Michael closed his eyes, basking in Ian’s warmth. He had missed this, sharing a bed with someone.
“Don’t be stupid.” Ian smiled softly. “You love him.”
“I can’t keep loving what I’ll never have.”
“You have him now,” Ian pointed out, yawning. “Maybe not in the exact way you want, but you do. You’ll be alone forever if you keep waiting for the right time.”
“Or if you miss it,” Michael added helpfully with a slight grin.
“Yes.” Ian reached down to cup Michael’s chin in his palm, tilting Michael’s face upwards, and pressed a firm kiss to his lips. It was a kiss asking for a promise. “Call him. Tomorrow.”
And Michael nodded.
--
He was back at the airport, seeing someone off. Only this time, Ian felt no regrets. He handed Michael his carry on, patting his hand warmly, and stood back.
“Hey…” Michael nudged Ian’s leg with a light kick. “You should call Pieter, you know.”
“He’s married now,” Ian responded, faintly amused.
“I know. But I mean, you’re still holding on, and what are you hoping for? Another right time?” Michael grinned.
“Have a good flight,” Ian said firmly, pushing Michael towards the gate. Michael flipped him the finger over his shoulder, then waved once before vanishing into the crowd.
Ian waited, wanting to see the plane take off. Suddenly, his cell phone vibrated in his coat pocket. He took it out, thinking it was Michael forgetting something. It was Pieter.
“Hi.”