Micah was hesitant to leave Lennon's penthouse when Alistair was still there and Lee's suspicions were still wrecking havoc in his mind. Is Alistair sleeping with Lennon? He couldn't tell from their calm dynamic, the stern way they spoke to one another, and the careful distance between them.

Still, they often stood side-by-side and always sat next to one another. Alistair seemed to know all of Lennon's stories already.

"I think it's time for us to go," Rory whispered, tugging at Micah's sleeve. One of the couples had already left.

"Right," Micah said, still staring at Alistair and Lennon. Lennon was too cool, calm, and collected to betray such thoughts.

"Micah," Rory whispered.

"Right, sorry," he said, shaking himself out of his stupor. Across the table, Presley was staring at him.

Micah cleared his throat when there was a lull in the conversation to say, "Rory and I should get going."

Lennon paused his story to rise. "I'll walk you two out."

"You know what," Presley said, cheerily. He offered a close-lipped smile to Lennon, clapped his hands to his armrests, and said, "It is getting late. We'll head out as well."

Lennon walked them to the exit where he bid them each with varying degrees of affection: for Lee, a handshake; for Presley and Rory, a hug; for Micah, a kiss on either cheek.

Micah held onto his hand a bit longer, gave it a squeeze, and parted from the hold. Once the door was closed, Presley slapped a hand heavily onto Micah's back and said, shaking Micah by the shoulders, "Wow! We have so much to talk about!"

"Put it on my calendar," Micah deadpanned.

"You have a boyfriend!"

Micah sighed, glancing at Rory. Rory smiled sadly. "We actually. Broke up."

Presley released his grip. "Seriously?" And then, to Rory, he said, "He's a real catch, you know!"

"Oh, I know," Rory agreed. "It just won't work out."

"So you're back at Benedict's?" Lee commented as they all gathered in the elevator to descend.

Micah took a deep breath. "No, actually. I'm staying at Kennedy's." He looked to Rory as he said it, heart twisting. Another lie.

"Really? Her place isn't that big," Presley said, and then gasped. "Are you bi now?"

"No, I'm not bi. I sleep on the couch."

"You could stay with us again," Presley suggested, "Or I could help you get a place?"

"I couldn't—Wait, what," Micah said, eyes wide. "Are you serious about that?"

"Of course!"

"He doesn't mean that," Lee said, smacking Presley on the back. "He'll give it a deeper thought."

"I've thought about it—deeply—and I think it's a good idea," Presley said.

"I, um, I'll think about it," Micah said, unhelpfully.

Lee gave him a relieved smile and, once out of the elevator, Lee dragged Presley off as Presley shouted back at them, "Call me! I'll call you! Oh, this is so exciting!"

Micah sighed, exhaustion seeping through him. He'd spent the entire dinner tenser than tense—he needed a fucking massage.

Rory lingered with him in the cold as he caught his breath. "That was. A lot," Rory said.

"I'm so sorry about that," Micah said. "I did not know any of them would be there."

"It's okay. I don't know how you could have known," Rory said, and then with a grimace, said, "And yeah. That sort of confirmed we couldn't work out. Sorry."

"Can I—" He licked his dry lips. "Can I ask why?"

"I'm just... a deeply jealous person," he confessed. "I try not to be. Like with Lennon, I had no issues. But Alistair is."

"He's a prick and an asshole, I know."

"No, he's super attractive. And intelligent. I couldn't compete with him," Rory said. "I can see why you like him."

Micah blanched and pretended to throw up. "I don't like him."

Rory's smile was condescending at best, and knowing at worst. "I'll try to believe you on that." He kissed Micah's cheek. "I'm gonna head back alone today. I'll see you soon."

"Do you want your key back?"

Rory grimaced. "Please."

Micah unhooked the key from his chain and he watched it disappear into Rory's coat pocket. "Alright then," Micah said, breath shuddering. He blamed it on the cold. "Call me when you're horny or something."

Rory laughed. "I will. Goodbye, Micah."

Micah watched Rory walk off in the direction of the station to Chelsea. He lingered so long that he was interrupted by the apartment building opening and the last wealthy couple from the party walked out. Micah was so baffled to see them and unable to escape that when they greeted him again just to say farewell, he made up an excuse.

"Hi, yeah, just stopped for a smoke," he said. "Have a nice night."

He waved farewell to them, seeing them down the sidewalk.

And then, a warm breath spoke in his ear. "So you smoke now?" Alistair.

Micah elbowed him in the gut. Alistair dipped back to avoid the attack, smiling wide. "No, I don't smoke," he said.

Seeing Alistair out there now refuted Lee's rumor that Alistair was sleeping with the director. Micah tried not to feel cocky about that.

"So you slept with Lennon," Alistair concluded.

"Yeah, I did," Micah confirmed. "Several times."

"Interesting."

And then, interested in seeing Alistair's reaction, Micah said, "He paid for the hotel."

As he'd hoped, Alistair did react. His jaw tightened, a bit of a twitch in his cheek. He glanced away before leaning in to say through a stiff smile, lips barely moving: "That better not have been on the company dime."

Micah scoffed. "I doubt it."

His throat was impossibly tight, the muscles spasming in the cold. The air was turning his lungs into pincushions. He was frozen by the memory of his panic in Alistair's apartment when he went to pick up his things.

And now he was standing in front of Alistair, feeling like this was a betrayal to Rory even though they weren't even together anymore. He respected Rory too much to be with Alistair so soon after their amicable departure. Wanting to fuck Alistair now—and God, did he want to—was just proof that he never wanted a relationship with Rory in the first place.

Frustrated with himself, Micah turned toward the intersection to cross. "I'm leaving."

Alistair followed after him.

"Stop following me," Micah said.

"Aren't you interested in Benny's apartment renovation?" Alistair asked.

"Not anymore."

"Where are you staying?"

"What does it matter to you?" Micah said.

The subway entrance rail was in view now, the colorful numbered dots illuminated by the street lamps. With his back to them, he could clearly see Alistair's turmoil to say something he knew would chase Micah off.

Instead, Alistair said, "Is this about your boyfriend—ex-boyfriend, I mean."

"Yeah, thanks for that," Micah said, throwing his arms down. "I thought—I mean, I liked him. Genuinely. At least I thought I did. But that was only because I wasn't thinking about you the whole time."

The difference was so much clearer with Alistair in front of him. How, even though living with Alistair for three days had been a challenge, it was one Micah desperately wanted to overcome. He'd tried so hard not to run from Rory the same way he'd tried so hard to work with Alistair.

And they weren't even dating.

Alistair dropped his eyes, looking uncharacteristically shy as he crossed his arms in the cold, gloves tucked into is biceps.

A flash of rage sent Micah shoving him in the chest. "And you—! I couldn't even tell him about you. I told him everything and he barely accepted it until Benny mentioned you."

Alistair's eyes were wide. "You're talking to Benny again?"

Micah scoffed and walked away. He was six steps down when Alistair's footsteps followed after him urgently. Micah picked up his pace.

"It's not my fucking fault your little relationship didn't work out!" Alistair called after him. "We haven't even talked since—Wait, did he see my pictures?"

"No, I haven't even opened them," Micah said. "And I know it's my fault. Everything's my fucking fault."

"Just—Stop walking. Please? Just for a minute," Alistair said. Down the tiled corridor, he'd caught up to Micah and held him by the wrist. Tethered by Alistair's hand, Micah let himself hang there, disinterested, tired, and wishing he had a bed to crawl under the covers of and cry.

Alistair saw all this—of course he did—and said, "I'm sorry your relationship didn't work out."

"Gee, thanks."

"I didn't—I didn't realize you were interested in dating."

"I'm not," Micah confessed. At Alistair's raised eyebrow, Micah shook his arm free to fold his arms defensively over his chest. "It just. Feels like everyone's... fluent in a language I only know how to say, 'Where's the bathroom,' in. And that's only because I memorized it, not because I understand the grammar."

"Okay," Alistair said slowly. His brow was furrowed in concentration, shaking his head. "Why learn the language if you're not even interested?"

"Because there's people like Rory out there," Micah confessed, eyes hot. He couldn't look Alistair in the eye. "And I'm at the age now where—where no one wants to teach me the language. It's a hassle. I'm a hassle. And I'm sick of—of not having a person. Everyone leaves me because they have a person. I'll never have that because all of my people are just... friends."

Micah brushed his hands over his eyes, shakily. A train was coming in, and grating metal rattled down the corridor. It dissuaded either of them from speaking until the exhaust hissed out and the speaker chimed.

Alistair tugged Micah to the side and kept his hand firmly on Micah's shoulder as people passed them. His voice was unrecognizably gentle, quiet. "Is this about Benny?"

"Yes. I don't know. It's about me, I guess. Benny can do whatever he wants." He winced at the phrasing he'd used on Noah and how glaringly insecure it was now. "He's kind of been my person this whole time. Platonically. Whatever."

Alistair shuffled for a moment. Micah couldn't look him in the eye when eye contact with Alistair was so intense. He didn't look up even when Alistair leaned close to say, "I know you probably don't want to hear this, but I've considered you my person since I moved here. Less platonically."

Micah blinked, tears on his lashes. "What are you talking about."

Alistair dropped his hand, leaning back. "I'm not really interested in sleeping around anymore. I thought I'd... grow out of anxiety or something. But it's just gotten worse."

"It's because you're unmedicated."

"Not everything can be solved with medication," Alistair mocked. Micah scoffed, sniffling. "I've slept with... maybe six people since moving here, and that includes you, Kennedy, Theo, and Lottie. Not including Noah, because that's—Yeah, Noah's different."

Micah blinked. "I—I didn't realize."

"And I'm not interested in controlling you," Alistair went on, startling Micah with the intensity of his voice. The opposing implication, of Alistair controlling Micah, left him unnecessarily and inappropriately hot and bothered. "I'm more interested in trust. And you're experienced enough that I trust you to do the right thing."

"You really think of me as your person?" Micah said, numbly.

Maybe it was the cold and Micah was just realizing it now, but Alistair's ears were red as he nodded, stiffly. "I do. And I'm not asking you to think the same about me. Just consider it."

"Oh." This sounds... like he's asking me out, Micah thought.

Micah had gotten dozens of relationship proposals in his lifetime, but none of them... had sounded or felt like this before. He'd always been too detached to consider them seriously. Maybe he preferred Alistair's language more—he understood the concept of having a person better than a relationship.

Because I had that with Benny, he thought, throat tight. He wasn't interested in experiencing that level of loss again.

"I'll think about it," Micah said, and tried to make it a lie. He already couldn't stop thinking about it. He brushed his fingers over his cheeks again. "Sorry for crying."

Alistair laughed softly. "It's fine. And don't let my photo go to waste—it was a good one."

"Yeah, right," Micah scoffed, turning away. "I'll delete it when I get back."

Alistair fully laughed. "Fuck you, too!"

Micah flipped him off before reaching for his wallet. He swiped into the station and down the yellow strip to wait. He stared vacantly at a subway rat scurrying over the metal bolts in the track.

As his train arrived minutes later, Micah had yet to form a single thought. He sunk into an empty seat, hand to his head. His fingers were trembling, curling into a fist. Internally, he was already berating himself for indulging so much to Alistair, for breaking down in front of Alistair.

Because the more people know about him, the less they want him. How could Alistair still see me as his person when I'm such a fucking mess?

At his stop, his body moved on its own. He was out of the station before he realized he'd taken the wrong train, gotten off at the wrong stop, and was now down the street from Benny's apartment.

"Fuck," Micah swore, shoulders sagging. He'd meant to go to Kennedy's, but seeing the light on in Benny's living room window sent a wash of grief over him. It melted to the slush under his feet and froze him there.

He didn't want to go to Kennedy's. He wanted to go home. In his own bed, under his own covers.

Micah leaned forward, one foot rising from the pavement. Gradually and with great reservation, Micah approached the building. He still had his keys, after all, and they let him up and into the six flights skyward.