Where'd You Go? (Track Twelve, III), chapter 18

"Mike, are you in there?"

Nothing.

"Please, open up. Hear me out and then do what you want."

The door opened and Mike stood there. It looked like it took every drop of his energy to force his spine to straightness. Somewhere along the line he had managed to scrape up his chin. He would not look her in the eye. All Wren wanted to do was run up and hug him as tight as she could, but she couldn't take him pushing her away again.

"Last night," she began, "was the biggest mistake I've ever made. I was trying to stay up to see you when you got home. It's not all Billie Joe's fault, I was part of it. I did not have sex with him. We passed out together." Silently, Mike opened the door enough for her to get in. "I have no idea what to say. It's up to you now. Do you believe that it was nothing? Mike, I'm angry at myself because I've wasted something more valuable on stupidity. If you just want to be friends, or me never speak to you again, I'll do that. If I could, I'd erase last night, but I can't. I get that I have to live with the results."

The red light of the sinking sun highlighted his cheekbones as he stared out the window. Wren waited for her fate, feeling physically sick. Only after the sun had completely set did he turn to her. The sorrow on his face made her heart begin to splinter.

"If you're going to tell me to screw off, do it already."

"You were the one who ended it?"

Wren nodded miserably as Mike wearily ran his hand through his hair. She hung her head so he couldn't see her oncoming tears.

I'm not going to cry. I'm not going to cry.

"You're crying," he said softly.

Wren swiped at her face, "No I wasn't. Crying's for sissies."

She looked up at his soft eyes. He understood why she was crying. He understood that she did not want her tears to unfairly affect his judgement. He understood why she was crying anyway. For a few seconds, he looked at her as a brittle smile flickered on his face. Wren fought and lost her inner battle; tears streamed silently down her cheeks.

"Can I just go?" she asked heavily.

His hand caught hers and the others wiped away her tears. Too afraid to hope, she held onto his hand tightly.

"Wren, I'm so sorry. There's no way you'll forgive me." he said quietly.

Confusion flooded Wren. He's sorry? For what? Sorry that he's about to dump me? She tried to pull away, but he cupped her face and drew her into a small kiss. It was so sweet that it rooted her to the ground. Why does a good-bye kiss have to be so perfect? God, I'm sorry too.

Since it would be the last time, Wren stroked his hair, and murmured, "Mike."

Further words were erased as his lips were pressed against hers. Wren hugged him as tight as she could as the kissing continued. She did not want to stop, for when it did, he would tell her to leave, go away as friends.

She made a small noise when he moved down to the front of her neck. She gasped into his earring-hung ear. When he hit the bandages, his tone changed. Now, he nipped back up her neck, almost hard enough to hurt. Wren set her own teeth against his neck and drew in a hard breath. He groaned and buried his face against hers. His hand trailed down her back and pressed their hips together. This was what was supposed to have happened only a night ago. Wren began to hope that maybe, just maybe this was not the end.

With a grin, as if reading her thoughts, he bent for more kisses. Wren leaned against him as his hand snuck under her shirt. His other hand interlaced its fingers with hers. Wren nuzzled her way along the collar of his wife-beater. He gently sat her down on the bed. He leaned against her and the kisses grew more heated. Frantically, Wren's hands scrambled over his body, trying to touch everywhere at once.

Wren mouthed the hollow at the base of his neck and he shuddered in delight. "Oh God."

Everywhere he touched seemed to burn. Needing him, Wren kissed him as hard as she could. He returned the action, whilst his hands outlined her body. They halted for a moment, between kisses.

"Wren, I want you so bad. I can't--I shouldn't--" Even as he said it, his hands were being very busy.

She kissed him again, not letting him finish. Amid heated kisses, she told him,

"Go."

"For."

"It."

Exhausted, he collapsed across her. He moaned croakily and pressed his face against her hair. For a few moments, they lay, resting in the aftermath of their storm. Lazily, she ran her hand through his slick hair. Then, she played with his earring as he nibbled on her ear.

"That was a sexier face than your guitar face."

He nodded slowly, and then his eyes snapped open. "We didn't use fricking protection."

Nervously, Wren traced his tattoos. "I'm on the pill. We should be alright."

He sighed contentedly. "That was, I don't know."

Indulgently, she tugged on his earring. "You don't know?" He chuckled and planted a kiss on her neck.

"Well, sex is never terrible. It's always a bit good. But, shit, that was way beyond good. And, you're a virgin."

"Not anymore." She grinned at him.

"Yeah, but if I'd of known, I would have taken it easier." His voice was muffled by her shoulder.

"I guess we're even then? Me getting drunk, and you taking my virginity?" Wren tried to keep the serious question sounding like a joke, though she wanted a real answer. He did not say anything, and she worriedly traced the tendons on his hand. "So, if this was rather good, does this happen all the time, or should I go pass out with Tré?" At this, she felt him tense, but she couldn't see his face. "Don't worry, I'm just joking."

He lifted his head, staring down at her lips, not her eyes. "I know. You don't have to do that to get me to sleep with you. After all, I'm your bitch."

Wren pushed him over so he was on his back, feeling a bit playful. "Fine. If you say so. Then I say we have one last round before we go back."

"Who says we have to go back?" He challenged as he pulled her atop him.