Micah hadn't felt this sick with sadness since Benny and Hunter's breakup. Even though he'd hated Hunter and was glad they were done, Micah couldn't stand to hear Benny sobbing without wanting to cry himself.

And the worst part of both situations, Benny believed he was in the wrong.

Even worse still, Micah knew that an instant fix for Benny would be an apology and a plea and Benny would fall back into Hunter's arms. Or, in this case, would forgive Alistair for bitching him out and act like nothing ever happened.

To Micah, Benny was never in the wrong.

When Benny wasn't busy with exams the following two days, he was moping on the couch watching reruns of Sex and the City, something he normally disavowed as a post-2020 New Yorker in the dating scene. This also meant Micah was watching reruns of Sex and the City by association, since every second he spent at home was monopolized by Benny being clingy.

He studied during these sessions. He'd given his notecards to James already, and since their exam was the following day, Benny invited him over to study. Benny spent this time feeling sorry for himself in the beanbag, as he associated the couch too much with Alistair and his anger.

On said couch, Micah lounged on his side, one knee raised, and asked various flashcard questions to James, who answered correctly every time. As they swapped roles, James leaned in to whisper, "Is Benny okay?"

Micah glanced at Benny, who had his sweatshirt hood up and arms crossed. They couldn't see his face. "Family stuff," he whispered back.

"Oh." James watched the back of Benny's head for a moment before admitting, "He was really out of it during our lab exam. Hopefully he didn't do too bad."

What a horrible time for Benny to get into a fight with his brother, Micah thought. He'd been concerned on behalf of Benny's exams. When he wasn't in class, working, or working on the mattress, Benny had been a bundle of anxiety when he should have been studying.

"Can I have your number?" James whispered.

Micah's attention shot back to James. "What?" He said it at full volume.

James winced. He gestured to Benny, helpless, and then to his phone. Oh, Micah realized, and pulled out his phone to add him.

Over text, James wrote, "Is there anything we can do for him?"

Micah responded. "No. We're just waiting for his brother to apologize."

"For what?"

Micah looked up from his phone and knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he did, in fact, like the idea of James and Benny together. In his brief span of delusion, believing that they were already dating, this fact solidified. Therefore, he couldn't mention that the reason Benny was fighting with his brother was because he had period sex on his brother's bed and stained the mattress in the process.

"His brother yelled at him."

James stared at his phone, waiting for more, but when Micah didn't expand, he looked up. He rose an eyebrow and mouthed, "That's it?"

Micah offered a noncommittal shrug-nod.

James' brow furrowed, frowning at the state of Benny.

On a whim and feeling rather cheeky over James' protectiveness, he texted, "Do you like Benny?"

James glanced down at the ping and, within seconds, his ears were pink and turning red. "Is it that obvious?"

Micah grinned down at his phone. He felt like a kid at a slumber party tucked into a sleeping bag, gossiping. "No, but I just know how Benny acts when he likes someone back."

James had his cheek against his hand, smothering a smile. He glanced up at Micah once, and then twice for good measure. He rose his eyebrows as if to say, "He really likes me?"

Micah shrugged. "I mean, I think he does. I haven't asked."

"How does he act?"

"Has he asked you about marriage and kids at all?"

James openly laughed and smothered it against his hand. Micah nudged him in the arm to reply. "Yeah, but it was casual. I thought we were just getting to know each other."

"And what'd you say."

"That I'd consider it? Why is he a marriage and kids kind of guy?"

Micah knew it was overstepping to admit it, but knew Benny's hard lines enough to want James to have all the tools necessary. "Majorly. He wants three."

"Three what, marriages or kids."

Micah barked out a laugh that sounded more like a cough. He cursed, slapped his hand over his mouth, and James burst into laughter. Micah slapped him in the arm.

"What're you guys laughing about?" Benny said, pathetically, from the beanbag.

Micah made a quick assessment of the episode Benny was on and said, "When she called the 'deck' a 'dick'."

Later, after they'd were done studying, Micah looked at his phone again to find James had texted him, "Nice save." The latest, however, was James saying, "Thanks for helping me study! And borrow your flashcards. And giving me Benny tips 😉".

Micah grinned, on his way to the kitchen.

Erika startled him. "Micah? Smiling at texts? Unheard of."

"Fuck off."

"Who is it? A-lis-tair?" she teased, soto voce so Benny wouldn't hear.

"No. I don't have his number nor do I want it. He's a prick and an asshole."

"And a whore and a dickrider, sleezebag, cocksucking bitch." She said it like she was rapping. He abandoned his kitchen visit. He flipped her off, which just encouraged her to start rapping, "He's a prick and an asshole, a whore and a dickrider, sleezebag, cocksucking, BITCH!"

"Not gonna lie, that kinda has bars," Benny admitted, stuffy and depressed. He reached for the tissue box that was running low.

______

With Potgiving later that week, Kennedy decided to take matters into her own hands, and she did so with Micah in tow.

"This isn't gonna work," Micah insisted as she parallel parked like an absolute queen. She paid the meter on her phone and stomped out in her heels, looking pissed.

"I'm not gonna tow a depressed Benny to a party full of hot people," she said, viciously, and snapped her fingers as she rounded the hood. "C'mon, let's go."

Jewelry jangling and heels clicking, Kennedy stormed up to the receptionist Micah had a bone to pick with. Micah was slower and less ambitious with his approach.

"I'm here to see Alistair West. It's urgent."

The receptionist clicked away at her computer and came up with the answer: "I'm sorry, he's not available this week."

Micah's intrigue piqued. "Is he out of town again?" he asked.

The reception's nose crinkled again like she wanted terribly to tell Micah to eat shit. "I'm sorry, I can't divulge that information."

Kennedy was clicking her heels. Micah read it all over her face: she wanted to call Presley to call the building owner and get in contact with this woman's manager. And by God, he wanted her to do it, but knew she shouldn't.

He tugged her by the arm. "Seriously, I don't think this is a good idea. Just leave it and you can take Benny to some other party."

"I leave for upstate tonight. He's gonna regret not going and I know there's a girl there who would eat him up like he's dessert," she insisted, and gave Micah the stink eye to stay out of it. She put her phone to her ear and walked away.

The receptionist half-smiled at Micah before they both went back to resting-bitchface. Micah rolled his eyes.

When Kennedy returned, Micah expected to be dragged to the elevator. Instead, she dragged him outside, stomping all the way.

"What happened?" Micah asked.

"I got his number," she said, already calling Alistair up and putting her phone to her ear again. Her eyes were on the sky, scanning for his balcony.

"What," Micah hissed just as he heard the robot voice declare Alistair had sent Kennedy to voicemail.

She cursed and tried again, only to get the same result. She reached into Micah's pocket on his behalf and pulled out his phone.

"What're you doing," he said.

"He has your number saved. He'll answer if it's you," she said.

Micah's heart lurched. He couldn't save Alistair's number. He couldn't. It was like being temporarily waterboarded for the rest of his life. "I'm not calling him," he said, but the phone was already ringing. She hadn't saved his number, but it was still there on the caller ID... "If you use my phone, you have to be the one to answer."

She glowered at him and tapped speaker.

It was still ringing. Micah's chest felt like it was on fire. Why is it still ringing? He put Kennedy to voicemail.

The ringing stopped with a click.

"Is something wrong?"

Micah covered his mouth. Kennedy was glaring at him. Neither of them spoke until Alistair forced Kennedy's hand. "Hello?"

"Yeah, it's me."

A beat. "With Micah's phone?"

"Yeah, he's with me. You weren't answering and—" Micah's lock-screen faded into view. Alistair hung up on them.

Kennedy slapped him in the arm. "Dude."

"I don't want to talk to him! I don't want his number anywhere near me," Micah hissed.

"You can fix this. Get him to apologize to Benny."

"I already tried!"

Kennedy started the call again and this time, abandoned the phone against Micah's chest. He scrambled to catch it. Kennedy was walking back to the car and she was off the sidewalk by the time Micah realized what she was doing.

The phone was ringing. Micah raced to the passenger's side. Kennedy was in the driver's seat locking the doors.

"I'm not talking to Kennedy," Alistair said.

Micah slammed his hand on the passenger window. Kennedy mouthed at him, "Get him to apologize!"

"I don't have time for this."

Micah groaned and said, "Alright, I'm here. Literally. Kennedy drove us to your place."

"Fuck." There was rustling on the other end. After a long silence, Alistair said, "Did something happen? Is Benny with you?"

"No, he's fucking depressed as shit," he said, tactless. And then, just to add to Alistair's guilt, he said, "I was talking to one of his peers and it sounds like Benny mighta failed his lab. I dunno. Not like you care or anything, apparently, because you haven't apologized for shit."

After a moment of silence, Micah checked his phone to ensure he hadn't been hung up on. They were at thirty seconds to their call.

"That's the most blatant form of guilt-tripping I've ever witnessed."

"Experienced."

"What?"

"Worst guilt-tripping you've ever experienced. Made you feel bad, didn't I?"

"Fuck you."

Micah snickered, scuffed his shoe on the sidewalk, and said, "So are you gonna apologize to Benny or what?"

"Yeah," he said, "got the new mattress and I'm getting over a flareup so I'll be able to see him by this weekend maybe."

"Can you make it today?"

"Not in person. Why?"

"He's supposed to go upstate to be married off or something. Kennedy got him an invite to this Friendsgiving thing with a bunch of ridiculously sexy bisexuals. And you're gonna deprive him of that?"

"I really can't see him today."

"Why not?" When he didn't answer, Micah's hand started to feel like it was on fire. He switched ears, fingers tingling. "Can you just let me up? Your stupid receptionist thinks she's Cerberus."

"No, I told you I'm having a flareup."

Micah rolled his eyes. He'd thought the 'flareup' was in relation to work. "Not for sex, just to talk."

Alistair groaned over the line, which made Micah reconsider the sex part. Just for a split second. He shook his head. "It's not personal," Alistair started, which sent Micah's brain into the worst version of deja-vu he'd ever experienced.

It's not personal.

When had Micah ever been on that end of the discussion?

Defensiveness nearly choked Micah out as he paced away from Kennedy's car. He didn't want to know what he looked like, and knew he'd see it reflected in Kennedy's expression if she saw. "Trust me, it never was. Seriously, it's just to talk about Benny. He's really in a bad place right now and—"

"So the fuck am I!" He was startled by the shout. He said nothing. "And I understand that you're worried about Benny. I'm worried too. I'll call him later, I just can't see him right now. I'll call him."

Micah wavered, shuffling his feet. He crossed his free arm over his chest, hugging himself. "Promise?"

"Yes, I promise."

"Fine. Do it soon because he leaves tonight if you do this right."

"Okay." And then again, Micah's worst-said and most-said phrase, "It isn't personal, really. I'm sorry."

"Stop saying that. I don't give a shit," Micah said, though he was starting to give a shit about how little he wanted to hear that. "And I want my mirrors back!"

He hung up and stormed back to the car.

Kennedy's eyes were calculating every part of him the second he sat down. "Oh no," she breathed.

"He's gonna apologize," Micah said, throwing his phone into the cupholder. He dragged his hands over his face.

Kennedy's hand was on his arm, and Micah felt it like a hot-iron.

He slapped her arm away. "Don't ever make me do that again."

"I won't. I'm sorry—I just really want this for Benny. You know it'll make him so happy meeting people," she insisted, the same reason she'd been venting about since Wednesday Brunch that day (sans Benny).

He cupped his hand over his forehead. He dug the pads of his fingers into his temples. He wanted to throw something, preferably his body against a brick wall.

"I'm sorry," Kennedy said again.

"I fucking hate him. I never want to see him again," Micah insisted. "Talking to him makes me feel like I'm gonna projectile vomit."

"Are you nauseous right now?"

"Kind of."

"N-Not in the car!"

"Just give me a minute. It'll pass."

They sat in silence until Kennedy started watching Tiktok thirst traps on a low, but still perceptible volume. It helped distract Micah from the spiral taking hold of his brain. Cycle broken, Micah resumed regular breathing. Still hot with rage, he said, "Can you drive me to the gym?"

"Sure." She set her phone aside and put the car in gear.

Micah's strength training was more punishment than anything that afternoon and he went on until failure. By the time he left, his legs were jello and it felt like someone had wrung his arms out like a wet towel. Sitting on the subway, completely relaxed, every last one of his muscles was tingling and trembling in overdrive.

The climb up the stairs to the apartment was his legs' final straw. He took a break on the third floor to knead the lactic acid down his thighs and calves so the stinging pain would dissipate.

While sitting there, a series of rushed footsteps careened down the flights above him. He glanced up as the incoming traffic whipped around the flight just in view.

It was Benny.

"Hi!" Benny said. His weekender duffle was tossed over one shoulder. "Did you just work out? You look pumped."

"Thanks. And yeah," Micah said, amazed by Benny's resurgence. His eyes and nose were still pink, but there was only so much four hours could do for a man who'd spent three days straight sobbing. "Is Kennedy picking you up?"

"Yeah. Wish me luck." He winked and posed with a peace sign. Micah got to his feet to let Benny squeeze him into a hug. Micah's arms were too weak to manage more than a slap to Benny's back.

Micah watched Benny fly down the stairs and listened from the next floor up as Benny's voice echoed back to him on call with Kennedy. There was laughter, and the world was right once more.

He unlocked the front door when his phone started buzzing his jacket pocket. He turned his jacket over on his arm and dug for it.

To his great horror, it was Alistair.

No, Micah thought, feeling sick all over again. After declining, a new notification appeared.

"Leaving for two weeks, coming back the 12th. Can you housesit for me?"

It was the last thing he expected, and even less still was the message that followed. "Left my key with Cerberus. She'll need to check your license before letting you up. Please eat the food in the fridge if you're interested, all dishes are dishwasher safe. You can sleep on the bed but don't have people over."

Hours later, Micah still didn't know what to make of Alistair's request. There were no new updates after that, no confirmation, and Micah was dizzy and disoriented even after eating and drinking water.

With no exams hanging over his head, he collapsed onto his bed to fall asleep but barely reached past the twilight stage.

He needed to relax.

He needed...

The front door opened to the tune of people laughing.

As he was sleeping, Erika had messaged: "FUCK OFF. T-45min". Within the hour, muffled giggling and laughter, only audible by virtue of Micah lying perfectly still and in complete silence, was replaced with high-pitched cries of ecstasy and, "Yes—Yes—Yes! Oh~"

Micah flopped over onto his stomach to reach for his nightstand. He yanked it open, bypassed all his toys, his condoms, his lube, and extracted the tin of gummies he kept for special occasions. He stuck an arm under the bed for his duffle and yanked it out. It sailed across the room to his closet where he proceeded to aggressively pack his bag for a two week vacation from everyone and everything.