Frostbite

Frantically, I slammed my bathroom door and raided every inch of tile like a police looking for pot. After throwing aside the rug, yanking open the cabinets, and nearly ripping the shower curtain from it's rings, it became depressingly evident that my jock was nowhere in this room.

Leaning against my sink in defeat and exhaustion, I let my eyelids drift shut and grunted out my frustration and annoyance. Of course I'd lose it on a day that I'm late, why would the world be on my side today? It wasn’t working with my any other day of the week, the month, the year, existence.

As I sat there wallowing in my self pity, a tentative knock rapped on the door and Izzy's voice pulled me away from the entrance of unconsciousness. "Benji, honey, are you okay?"

"Yes," I mumbled, pealing open my obese eyelids.

".......Are you masturbating or frustrated?"

"Which one will get you to make me cookies?"

"Well, um, I can't use the oven. Well, that's a lie, I can use the oven, I'm just no good at it. I'm not good with the oven? That sounds a bit off, not something someone would usually say. I can't bake. Yeah, that's it. I would, but I can't bake."

Reluctantly, I pushed myself off of the sink and opened the door to reveal a thoughtful Izzy. How someone could find the energy to think, I had no idea.

"Do you know where my jock is?" I yawned like an Imax theater.

"I think Clary is using it for cosplay. Using it for cosplay? Is that th-"

I was out of the room and headed down the hall before she had time to finish her sentence. There wasn't time to waste with the time I'd already disposed of, and I knew Clary was going to put up a fight, which I was not in the mood for. If I was going to get this thing back, without slapping the weeabo out of my sister, I couldn't waste my patience on listening to Izzy.



Blurs ran past me on all sides, moving too fast for my sleep slowed mind to register before they were halfway to fucking Narnia. Instead of being my usual kickass self and trying to block the puck or slam into the speeding bodies, I attempted to avoid them completely and dragged my legs away from any action I foresaw coming my way. Needless to say, without me practice was pretty much a dud and both players and coach were overly frustrated with me, not that I really cared at all. What I cared about was how my tactic proved to be so shitty as Nathan and Alberto pealed me off the ice.

After coach realized that his yelling was falling upon def ears, he shouted for us to go to the locker room. Not that I was so lucky as to make it there before he picked me out and scolded me for my crappy performance, telling me that I needed more sleep like I didn't already fucking know and he wasn't just being a jackass. Once hw was done yelling at me for that, he yelled about how I’d committed to hockey before figure skating and it wasn’t fare to the team that I was to tired to play, which I of course expertly shot back that I hadn’t even gone to figure skating practice yet. This shut hi up for the day.

Slugging back to the locker room, I pealed off my padding and shoved it all in my bag, trying hard not to fall asleep when I sat to pull off my skates. It took an unnecessarily long amount of time to gather the energy to stand and find my shoes, just long enough for my teammates to decide to bitch at me about everything and a box of kittens. Needless to say, I wasn't in the mood for any of this shit. I didn't want to deal with these duchbags, I didn't want to do figure skating practice after this, I didn't want to be awake, and I sure as hell didn't want to have to endure all these things I didn't want at once. All I wanted to do was get some coffee and lay in bed to watch a movie with Micajah.

My momentarily retarded mind started formulating plans without my consent as I ditsyly looked around for my shoes. Maybe if I could catch Micajah before he made it into the building I could convince him to skip figure skating practice and do just that.

Once this thought passed over, I hurried to the parking lot in hopes of getting to Micajah before he got to the entrance. Maybe we could even go rent Repo The Genetic Oprah, he loved that shitty film. It always made him smile when Mark It Up started playing and he likes to sing along with it.

Luckily, I caught him just as he was stepping out of his car. I don't know if he wasn't in a good mood or what, maybe he was stressed or frustrated or something, but my shotty plan soon crashed and burned. Of course, what should I have expected with the way today was going?

Maybe my sleep deprived brain had just forgotten that I was taking to the one I love and didn't turn off the bitch switch or something, but this was still unexpected and a bit extreme, even for me. Of all the things I'd imagined doing with Micajah, fighting was never one of them. The only disagreements we'd ever had were talking to or about his uncle, and even those were settled with the rational argument of we were both just being unreasonable. 

So it was probably surprising to not only me, but anyone who might see that Micajah was standing here in the parking lot of the rink, throwing all he had at me in a verbal manifestation. It broke my heart just a little, knowing that this was even possible with us. I mean, every couple has their fair share is disputes, but I was hoping that we would be the exception. It was disappointing to know that even we, even though I’d do anything for him and he could never make me truly unhappy in a million years, could hold so much animosity while addressing each other. I was disappointed in myself even more than anything for letting this happen.

“If you really didn’t want to do this than why did you volunteer, Benjamin!?” The force of Micajah's words pushed him back with each syllable. “We can’t just skip practice because you want to fuck! We don’t have a lot of time and you can’t keep trying to get out of this!”

“Keep trying to get out of this?” It felt odd having the annoyance in my voice while talking to him. “When did I ever try to get out of this!? When I dealt with your uncle glaring at and backhanded insulting me every five minutes? When I kept trying after ballet teacher yelled at me for three minutes because I don’t know how to caroche? Or when I stood there and let your sister dress me up like a ken doll and stick needles into my ass?”

“Oh, like your really just sat there and took it. You bitched like a pregnant women forced to walk to Idaho! If you were really committed to this you’d shut the fuck up and stop acting like such a spoiled brat! They’re tying to help you, they’re not just mine, Benjamin, they’re yours too. I really want to do this, I really want this to work out, I‘m willing to do everything for this. What about you Benjamin! And maybe if you’d stop moving, Kinna wouldn’t stab you!”

“Do you really think tha-” I stopped myself. I couldn’t let this last any longer. I knew what I was getting myself into when I offered, didn’t I? I couldn’t stand here and complain about it, how could I when I was only working to make him happy? Standing here yelling at him was doing the exact opposite of that. How had I even started this, how had I gotten this perfect boy to stand there with such a look on his face? How had I managed to make him direct this all towards me?

“I’m sorry,” The words left my mouth as more of a beg than a apology. “I’m sorry, I’ll stop. I understand. You’re right, this is what I want and I shouldn’t be complaining about it, I should be ready to march in there and give it my all.”

He was silent for a moment, giving enough time to let his face cool down. He looked like his uncle like that and I didn’t like it, not one bit. Once some enmity had escaped the atmosphere, he sighed and said rather hostilely, “What now?”

My response was automatic in this situation, I didn’t have time to think about it before it left my mouth “Sex?”

“Benjamin,’ He looked at me in disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?

“What? Have you ever had make-up sex? It's amazing.”

"Whatever." With that he turned and stalked towards the rink, not bothering to look back to see if I followed.

It was weird, dressing in the heavy silence. The hostility definitely had not left, that much was obvious, but he barley even let me talk to him. Every conversation I attempted to start he'd have something to quickly end. Every time I touched him, or even took a step too close, he'd back away and give me that awful glare. He didn't even wait for me to go out on the ice, an action Mr. Isaac seemed to enjoy just a tad too much.

I got my revenge on that bitch soon enough, not that it was really something to be happy about. Apparently, chemistry is something very important in figure skating, but it was also something we lacked at the moment. After almost an hour of futile yelling, frustration, and trying to get more than crap from us, Mr. Isaac ended practice. Usually I'd be glad for this, but I couldn't bring myself to be anything but depressed. I'd upset Mocajah to the point where not even the one thing he loved could distract him.

"Micajah," Before he had a chance to step off of the ice I grabbed his arm, not letting go when he tried to yank himself away. Barely even an hour and I already couldn't take him being mad at me, I just couldn't deal with it. I loved him too much to be able to spent one more minute like this and I hated how he wasn't smiling. "I am really sorry, I'm not just saying so. I wanted to do this for you, to make you happy, I shouldn't be acting like this. I really do want to do this, I swear, I just want you to be happy. I just forgot for a moment, that’s all. Please, Micajah. I'm sorry."

A moment of conflict held him still, but eventually his gaze softened. "Okay, okay. Come on, let's go get changed."

The grin on my face could be beat by no other, it wasn't even broken as I pulled Micajah in for a kiss. Suddenly, my lack of sleep didn't matter, nor did the daggers Mr. Isaac shot, which were sinking deep  into my back. All that mattered was that Micajah had forgiven me.



Throwing his bag on my floor, he crossed his arms and glared up at me, silent as if he was expecting me to speak.

"Why are you so angry?" I finally asked after a yawn.

"What was that stunt you pulled at the studio? He touched my shoulder, Benjamin. He touched my fucking shoulder! Why can't you control yourself!?"

My anger peaked quick, due to my lack of sleep and overly vigorous days. "Because that ass-wipe doesn't deserve to touch you!"

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, and you do!?"

"No! I'm a fucking bastard, an asshole! But you chose me over everyone else and that's good enough for me to at least try to begin to justify it."

After a few more moments of glaring at me, he slumped down onto my bed. His eyes softened as he sighed, like he was trying to figure out whether or not he should forgive a puppy for peeing on the carpet. "Babe, what's wrong? You've been on edge a lot lately and I don't like it. You get angry easily, and when you aren't angry you're depressed or moody. Are you okay?"

"I'm tired," The words came out harsher than they were meant to, my annoyance seeping through uninvited. "This is a lot. When I don't have hockey I have ballet, when I don't have ballet I have schoolwork, when I don't have school work I have work, and when I don't have work I have hockey. I don't even have time to go get a haircut for this fucking mop growing out of my scalp!" Frustrated, I yanked at my hair a bit too hard, letting out a grunt fighting to signify  pain or sleepiness. "I'm sorry, I don't even have time for you. I'm so tired, I just want to sleep for a couple of days."

"Come here, Benji," Micajah held his arms out, scooting back farther onto the bed. "I didn't realize you had so much going on. You can sleep right now, just come and sleep in my arms."

I felt as if my legs would give out on my way to the bed, but somehow they made it. My head sat in Micajah's lap as he ran his fingers through my outgrown hair, nails gingerly scraping at my scalp in a way that felt like heaven.

"That was a really cheesy line," I mumbled.

"I know. Just go to sleep."

"I don't want to now." Wrapping my arms around him, I cuddled up to his waist and fought to keep my eyes open. "I might not get to spend time alone with you again for awhile. Not that I really deserve to, but I want to."

"Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"Insinuating that you're anything less than wonderful. Because I think you're wonderful and deserve all the kisses in the world. As long as those kisses be provided by me," he added the last line as an afterthought. "Just go to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."

"Mmmmm." With no energy left to object, I shut my eyes and slowly lost consciousness of life itself.

"I still think you should be punished," Michajan's voice broke the surface of my almost slumber. "No kisses for a week."

"You withhold kisses, I withhold blow jobs," I mumbled as I stirred, getting a better grip on him and rubbing my head against his abdomen until he started scratching it again.

"Not fair."

"Like you could go a day without kissing me anyway."

"....Go to sleep you spoiled brat."

"Mmmm." Finally, I fell asleep, the tingle of Micajah's fingers felt even in my dreams.