Eventually, they had to start working. They slouched the mattress in the tub which required some maneuvering around the bloody bedsheets that made Micah feel like he was in a haunted house butcher's kitchen. He whacked the blankets away and seized one of the bottles from Benny.

"So do we just... pour a whole bottle on it or something?"

"Yeah. Usually it's easier if it's just the blankets," Benny said. Benny interpreted Micah's scowl as a means to explain further. "I just dump a bottle of hydrogen peroxide in the tub, dilute it with water, and soak the sheets until the stain comes out."

"I did not need to know you've been doing your girlfriends' period laundry in our tub. Is that iron ring on the porcelain from the blood?"

"No! Maybe!"

"Jesus." Micah uncapped the bottle and dumped it.

White hissed to the surface in a crackling fizz. He swore louder and screamed a little when, as he doused the entire length of Lake Superior, it all went up in foam.

"Oh my God," Benny whispered.

"Is it supposed to do that?!"

It took roughly three hours and six extra bottles for Benny to accept he was toast. Cooked. Overdone. They were airing the mattress out on Alistair's balcony, backs to the door, asses sat. Micah had abandoned his coat long ago and couldn't stop smelling the iron in his nose. He was convinced Alistair's entire apartment reeked with it, though that likely wasn't the case. They had a candle going anyway.

"He's gonna kill me," Benny said, quietly.

Micah sighed and his breath nearly formed a cloud. It was a brisk, November afternoon. He tipped his head back. "He's not gonna kill you."

"You're right. He's gonna eviscerate me."

"Pretty sure that's synonymous..."

They fell into silence. In an attempt to cheer him up, Micah asked, "Was she nice, though?"

Benny grinned a little, kicking one of his feet out. "Yeah, she was cool. I dunno. I feel like this whole situation has cursed that bridge, though."

"Valid."

And then, Benny gasped a little. With a childlike smile, he looked down at his shirt and reached down the collar. "Look, Alistair gave me this thing," he said, and extracted a chain from around his neck. He unclasped it and held it out for Micah to see.

Just as Micah reached to hold it closer, Benny slapped his hand down. "No touchy. This is sacred stuff."

"What the fuck is it?"

Leaning close like he had a big, juicy secret, Benny said, "My grandma's wedding ring."

Micah stared at him, and then at it. The family heirloom wasn't nearly as overtly expensive at first glance as Micah was lead to be believe. Benny's family was wealthy and, as the last two remaining members of said family, Benny and Alistair had inherited a lot. Mostly, though, Alistair had kept it all. At the time, Benny didn't have the space and Alistair had a storage unit down in Arizona to house it all.

Benny spun it around the chain. It was gold with a ruby at the center of a gilded rose. Its petals were encrusted with the smallest diamonds Micah had ever seen.

"Holy shit," was all he could say. Micah didn't give much weight to wedding rings, but knew sentimentality when he saw it.

"Eh, he said he'd never use it, so he gave it to me. And now I have the perfect engagement ring," Benny said, proudly, and wound it around his neck once again. He let Micah look at it once more before tucking it under his shirt.

"So I take it the girl you had over isn't gonna get this ring."

"Ah, no. Unfortunately."

Micah laughed as Benny pouted and bemoaned his circumstances once more. In the end, Micah asked the fateful question: "When does he get back?"

"Next Saturday. Fuck. I need to check the bedsheets."

As Benny got up to check the bloody bathtub soup water, Micah allowed himself the disappointment of another week gone mad.

He left for work soon after and from that point forward, received updates on the state of the mattress. They'd gotten the stain down to the palatable color of urine, and Benny had managed to return all the bedding back to its original shade of crisp white. It was a Christmas (in November) miracle.

The first snow was an aesthetic dusting the Friday before Alistair was due back in the city. Midterms were a soul-crushing and sorely needed distraction, and though Micah's last exams were that Monday, he allowed himself a break to pester Alistair's receptionist again.

"I'm here to see Alistair," he said, this time with confidence seeing as he now held a grudge against the woman for barring his entry last time.

She dialed Alistair's number then and said, brusquely, "There's a Micah Sayoko here to see you." A second passed during which Micah's chest carved out and left its contents to fossilize at the pit of his stomach.

Just as he suspected Alistair didn't want to see him, the woman hung up the phone and pressed a button on her desk. The empty elevator opened then. "Number 610 on your left."

Micah entered the elevator where he spent the entire ride up contemplating what a trip to the psych ward would do for him. It seemed like a valid alternative to whatever crimes he was about to commit now at the sight of Alistair after spending all of November without contact.

His heart was in his ears, heating up. In a matter of seconds, he was nearly sick with want. Since his last failed attempt with someone he was normally so compatible with, Micah had been too nervous to try with anyone else. Masturbation was fine, but he wanted more.

And now Alistair was back in town.

He knocked and stepped back from Alistair's door, hands tingling. He tucked them into his jacket pockets and waited for the lock to come undone.

When it opened, Micah opened his mouth to curse.

Alistair was tan. He'd always been tan, but now his skin was smokey and bronzed against his stark black hair. His cutoff tee did nothing to stop Micah's eyes from settling on his nipple piercings.

Alistair put his hand up to quiet Micah, the other holding his phone to his ear. Micah was once again reminded of how cutting Alistair's eyes were—they froze Micah in place until he was gestured inside.

Alistair shut the door behind them. Micah was stuck staring at the infamous mattress leant up against the entry hall wall. To the phone, Alistair said, "Thank you. I'll be down in a bit to sign. Have a good day."

Once the phone clicked off, Micah asked, "Work thing?"

With a dull stare and a sigh, Alistair said, "Mattress thing." He threw his phone carelessly onto the counter and crossed the room.

The mattress Benny had spent the entire week nursing back to health wasn't nearly as bad as Micah remembered, nor was it as good as it should have been. He dragged his eyes over to Alistair, who said, "I saw the pictures of what it looked like before."

"And?"

"I asked him if he used my bed to sacrifice a lamb to the gods and his response was, 'No, just a virgin.'"

Micah couldn't help it. He laughed.

Alistair didn't find it nearly so amusing. "It's not that funny."

"It's 100% pure hilarity, actually."

"I fucking hate bodily fluids of people I don't even know," he said, voice flat but caring enough to nearly shout it. He put his hands up as of to flick the germs off him before putting his hands to his hair. "God. If I knew he'd bring girls over after I explicitly told him not to I would've put down, like, three waterproof mattress covers to throw away after."

That seems wasteful, Micah thought. "You know he spent all week trying to fix it, and it isn't even that bad anymore. Honestly, it's probably cleaner than any new mattress."

Alistair's shoulders shuddered as he exhaled, slowly, to try and calm down. Micah suspected that if he were Benny, Alistair would have yelled or worse, screamed at him. He wished he'd checked in on Benny before coming. It occurred to him that Benny hadn't left his room all morning.

"I'll come back later," Micah said.

Alistair sighed again, this time in defeat. "No, it's fine."

"Honestly, I kind of want to punch you right now," he confessed, stepping toward the door. Considering the wide-eyed stare Alistair gave him, Micah suspected the man hadn't considered he was handling this all rather poorly.

As he opened the door, Micah said, "Make sure you apologize to Benny."

"Why would I apologize? He's the one who—"

Micah hesitated. Still in the foyer, he shut the door and asked, "Did you yell at him?"

Before immediate confirmation, Alistair had the good sense to hesitate. Micah still heard it in the choked sound at the back of his throat, though. "Yeah, of course I did. You realize I just bought that, right? It's, like, three thousand dollars."

Holy—

Micah couldn't contain his volume. "He knows he fucked up. And he's so sorry. How could you be mad at him still?"

Alistair was seething. "I told him not to! And not only does he bring a girl over, he—"

"I get that!" Micah screamed back. "But this is Benny we're talking about. He's probably bawling his eyes out right now and you didn't think to ease up a little?! He hates being yelled at and you're a shit brother for doing it anyway when you can fucking afford a new mattress with same-fucking-day-delivery. And probably white glove service, too."

"It's not about what it costs! And it's not even the principle, either!" Alistair said. To himself more than Micah, clawed his hands in front of his face, not quite touching it, and groaned, "God. He's never understood!"

Micah had watched plenty of people be in distress, usually accusing Micah of cheating, but they'd never expressed it quite like this. Alistair's level of disgust was closer to nausea.

"Did you take back the ring?"

"What?"

"The ring you gave Benny."

Alistair stared at him, brow tightening even further. He'd gone pale. "No. I don't need it, why would I take it back?"

He knew Alistair had more to say—he heard it in the sharp, livid inhale the man took to continue—but Micah was more inclined to be with Benny. Now that he was rest assured Benny still had the ring, Micah was already out the door.

He interrupted Alistair's attempt to speak by saying, "I'll be back for my mirrors later, prick."