The following chapter contains explicit material intended for an 18+ audience ONLY.

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A few hours later, I'm sitting alone in the airport with my stomach tied in knots. I keep glancing at my phone for missed calls and to check the time. The minutes tick by slowly and Mickey has yet to make an appearance.

Me: The flight leaves at 8

Me: Have you left yet?

Me: Are you coming at all?

He won't respond, and I feel sick.

After he left, Beth had dropped me off at the hotel, but by the time I arrived, all of his stuff was gone. I thought he had left for LA early, but when I checked in his ticket was still unclaimed. Now, I don't know what to think. The plane starts boarding, and I decide waiting isn't getting me anywhere. My heart continues to pound anxiously as I get in line and make my way onto the plane.

I find my seat in economy plus, put my bag into the overhead compartment, and take the window seat. I check my phone once more, but there is nothing. The flight is set to leave in 15 minutes. People shuffle around, making their way to their seats. I distract myself from my nerves with the in-seat entertainment, planning how to spend my time during the seven-hour flight alone.

I start to remove my scarf just as Mickey sits next to me. He looks unperturbed, earbuds in his ears as he leans down and sorts something in his bag. A row of butterfly bandages grace the bridge of his nose. His cheek is a little swollen, the bruise dark but small.

I stare at him, trying to figure out if he is real or not.

"You made it," I say to him. He looks at me from the corner of his eye, but says nothing. "Where have you been? I was worried sick. I thought --"

He raises a hand to stop me. "Drop it," he says sternly.

"What is going on? Talk to me!" I plead as quietly as I can manage.

"Penny." He takes one bud from his ear. "When you yell, I yell. I am not going to be that couple that fights on a plane," he whispers angrily. "Drop it." He pushes the earbud back in, turns up his music, and settles back against his pillow.

What the actual fuck?

♡♡♡

We didn't talk the whole flight home. He slept while I sat there glaring at the little screen in front of me, wiping my tears away whenever they clouded my vision. I'm not the kind of person to cry over someone else's pettiness, but he isn't someone else. He's Mickey. He's my favorite person, my best friend, and right now, he's also my roommate.

We land, pack up, and file off the plane with the others. His earbuds are still in, and I can hear the music playing as he continues to drown me out. I take one out to talk to him. "How are we getting home?" I ask him.

"I'm getting an Uber," he says plainly, then puts it back in.

I follow him through the airport, trotting alongside him as he keeps listening to music and looking at his phone. I want to scream at him, but I don't need the drama. We had plenty of that already, and look where it got us.

We get in the Uber and the little old lady wants to talk. Mickey ignores her like he ignores everything else. "The trip was fine, thank you," I answer her question politely.

"Where did you return from?"

"Boston." She takes it as a cue to go into a story about the wild summer she spent in Massachusetts when she was in her mid-twenties. I listen and smile, counting down the minutes until I get to scream at him.

♡♡♡

We walk inside the apartment and I sit down my bag. Mickey finally takes out his earbuds and lies everything down on the kitchen counter. I feel myself start to succumb to the painful feelings I've been ignoring.

"Mickey, talk to me. What the fuck is going on with you?"

He braces himself against the counter, closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath. "I am stressed to my fucking limit right now. I don't have the strength to fight with you."

"I'm not fighting with you. All I want to know is why the fuck you freaked out on me and left me in a parking lot."

He sighs. "I'm sorry. I was pissed off and said a lot of shit I shouldn't have."

"All I did was support you the whole time. You don't even know all the shit I'm keeping inside so you can hold yourself together." I cross my arms angrily. "You said I was looking for a reason not to be with you. You brought up Emilio when you knew how much that would hurt me."

"I'm sorry, baby. I didn't mean to hurt you, it's just ..." He shakes his head and sighs with exasperation. "Whenever something comes up from our pasts, it freaks you out, and when it comes to him, you fall apart," he explains. "Nothing has changed. Yes, I didn't tell you I'm adopted, but only because I didn't want you to be afraid he had a fucked up family like me."

"I know exactly what kind of family he has. A better one than I ever would have been able to give him," I seethe. "I am sorry you think you didn't have that, but, goddammit, Mickey. That's a huge part of who you are. I cannot believe you didn't tell me."

He opens his eyes and slowly stands up straighter. "It's who I was. We've both been through shit, done stupid shit as a result. Everyone has. We're not those people anymore."

"But we are, Mickey," I say firmly. "Shit happens, yes. But you ignoring your past doesn't make it go away. No matter what we do, nothing erases the fact that you are a porn star and I'm a teen mom. There will always be videos of you fucking people on the internet, and I will always have a kid," my voice quivers at the end.

"You're happy and we're fine as long as we're fucking and ignoring the world, but the minute something real happens, you start this shit with me again," he says, the anger returning to his voice. "How many times can you make up excuses before you admit that you just don't want to be with me?"

"Don't want to be with you? I was next to you through everything that happened. I'm right here now!" The pressure in my chest intensifies and I lose the fight to hold back my tears.

"But only if I fit the plan you dreamt up for yourself ten years ago, right?" he asks condescendingly. I stare at him and can't find the right words to say. He looks away from me and shakes his head. "I can't do this right now," he says quietly. He picks up his bag and starts walking towards the door.

"Where are you going?" I whimper.

"I have a fucking pilot to ruin." He walks out through the front door, slamming it behind him, leaving me alone once again.

♡♡♡

The next morning, I wake up early for my shift and get ready. When I am showered and dressed, I walk out to find him asleep on the couch. He had come into the bedroom last night only to grab a pillow, and I had stared at him through the open door, crying until I was able to fall asleep. My anger is gone. All I feel now is pain.

"Mickey ..." He looks over at me wearily as I sit down next to him. "You couldn't even come to bed last night?"

He sits up, running a hand through his messy hair and then over his unshaven jaw. He looks towards me sadly, avoiding eye contact as much as possible. I've broken up with enough people to know that look."I just needed some space."

I want to laugh. But more than that, I want to cry. 

My chest aches painfully, and I rub my hand over it for relief. His eyes look up to mine finally, and he looks so defeated. I don't want this to be the end, I don't want him to say anything else, so I lean forward and kiss him. He kisses me back hesitantly, but when I pull him closer, he starts to give in. As his mouth moves over mine, my body comes alive. We begin to get more intense, gripping each other a little too hard as our breathing becomes excited.

I know it's wrong, I know it's the worst thing we could do right now, but I don't know how else to make the pain stop.

I reach down and pull off my shirt, and he helps me untie and remove my pants. He pushes me to my back and pins me beneath him, spreading my legs wide. He pulls down his underwear and spits into his hand, rubbing it over himself before pushing into me raw. I stifle a groan of discomfort.

He thrusts slowly, coating himself in my wetness before he quickens to a menacing speed. He reaches down and rubs his fingers over my clit, intensifying the feeling, and pushing me to the finish line faster.

Quick and dirty, just like breakup sex should be.

I close my eyes, feeling every part of him. His head buried in my neck, his arm wrapped tightly around me, every unprotected inch of him moving inside me. The desperate way he fucks me is confusing. My mind screams at me that this changes nothing, but my body melts for him, wants to ignore everything for any sense of closeness he permits me. The sensation builds deep within me, silencing my mind of all other thoughts.

I wail with my climax, clawing at him and the couch as my body tenses around him. He groans and leans up, his even thrusts getting harder and harder, and it sends me over the edge. 

I call out as I come, arching back as the pleasure courses through me. My body shudders uncontrollably, feeling nothing but ecstasy. But it lasts only briefly before the shame I feel makes the pleasure fade into a dull ache. Mickey pulls out suddenly, stroking himself as he spills warmly onto my stomach. 

My body feels overly vulnerable and exposed under his touch. Mickey looks down at me regretfully. He sits beside me and pulls his underwear back up. I clean myself and redress in the awkward silence. It didn't work.

I look over at him and he avoids my eyes again, his expression as pained and sad as my own. "I could ask to stay with Maggie a few days ... if you need more time," I suggest.

"That's probably best," he agrees quietly.

I start to cry, but I don't want him to see me do it. I pick up my bag and leave the apartment without another word.

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A/N: I'm so sorry. Please don't be mad at me. Remember there are three chapters left!

Please leave your choice words for Mickey and Penny here.

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