#cgian

And up until now, I had sworn to myself

That I'm content with loneliness

Because none of it was ever worth the risk

He remembers the first time he met Ian in the hotel’s restroom, when he confessed to Mickey that he was the one who left that comment in the Black Orchid playthrough, the one Mickey read and felt compelled to reply to.

He remembers the uncertainty he felt that day, uncertainties about his own conflicted feelings. He remembers feeling exposed, open, and vulnerable. Those same feelings he hadn't felt in so long after years of conditioning himself to harden--toughen up--while growing up, and he still feels discomfort dealing with those emotions now in trying to maintain his online persona. He remembers telling Ian, You think you’re fuckin’ special if I like your tweet or your Instagram comment.

Mickey's hand hovers right above the upload button, wanting to press it, but fear holding him back, his breath seemingly caught in his throat, unable to breathe properly.

Deciding not to follow through, Mickey sighs, frustrated with how difficult all this was when it really doesn't have to be. He turns off his phone and turns towards his bed wanting to sleep the rest of the day off until he spots the shirt that's too many sizes too small to fit Ian.

I know you're leaving in the morning when you wake up

Leave me with some kind of proof it's not a dream

You are the only exception

Seeing the shirt reminds Mickey of the time they first hooked up. It was awkward, Mickey not having been with that many guys, Ian quickly finishing. Though he didn't show it, Mickey was embarrassed, self-conscious with his inexperience and thinking maybe Ian would blow him off after their short night together.

Mickey remembers anxiously waiting to see if maybe, just maybe, if Ian would text back. The second his phone lights up with his Instagram handle, Mickey remembers breathing out a sigh of relief that night.

You are the only exception

And I'm on my way to believing

Oh, and I'm on my way to believing

Mickey's breathe seems caught again, but a sense of urgency--a need to breathe--quickly overcomes in. He turns back to his phone, turns it on, and presses down on the upload button as hard as he can.