Tiger Eyes

Mike would not allow the younger man to get away, no. He wouldn't let that little outburst get the better of him. He was Michael Pritchard, after all. He could strike fear into anyone with a glance, earn respect from even the most disrespectful villains, make thousands of dollars with only a run-down club and a few years of time. He could have anyone he wanted. It just so happened, he wanted the person with a heart grand enough to hate him. Still, that would not get in his way. He was going to have his say.

"Billie." He took hold of the pianist's small arm. Of course it was small. Billie had probably not received many meals in the last two weeks. His money was depleting. Still, Mike was a bit surprised at how much it had already changed from the last he'd held it, that teasingly short touch he'd felt that fortnight before. "I wasn't finished talking to you."

"Well I'm finished with you, Mike!" He struggled to pull his arm free. "I've had enough of this. I've had enough of you. I just want to go. Let fucking go of me!"

"Not until you listen."

"Oh, so now, you want to say something? Well it's a little late now, isn't it?" He managed to pull his arm free and began walking again towards his car, going as quickly as possible to avoid more confrontation. But Mike would not have it.

He stepped in the other man's path defiantly. "Stay here and talk to me, Billie."

The younger man glared. "Oh, fuck you." He pushed around the taller man, continuing his walk to his car and pulling out his keys to escape. He only wanted to get out now, wanted to go back to his cold hotel room with its repulsive floral curtains and its clean, choking scent. To forget he'd ever wanted a chance with the tempting man behind him. But as that man turned to watch Billie's retreat, he refused to let it continue.

"I want you to move in with me!" he shouted after him, and Billie stopped dead in his tracks.

He turned to face him, the anger on his face fading to shock. "What did you just say?"

Mike could have smirked in satisfaction at the effect of his words... but he didn't. He simply approached the man slowly, feeling more satisfaction with each step as the other man allowed his advance. "You can't afford the hotel you're staying in. I know because I pay your salary. So move in with me."

Billie was rendered speechless for a moment. Could Mike really be asking this? Could he really have put him through so much pain, so much fear, only to ask to help him? "I... Mike, how could you ask that? I just said I hate you."

"The reason is irrelevant."

"It's not irrelevant, Mike! This is fucking extreme. Move in with you? God, half the time, I can't even stand to be around you."

He smirked. "And the other half?" Billie groaned, looking away. What about the other half? The time when he couldn't stand being away from the older man, when all he wanted was to feel his warmth, to find that care in his eyes once again. To make them melt from cruel stone to delicate pools of blue before him. How could he just walk away from that? Mike lay a hand on his shoulder, and it suddenly seemed so human again, a soft touch like the careful buttoning of his shirt those weeks ago which seemed to drag away ever more of his anger. "Pack your things, and check out of the hotel tomorrow. You can follow me home after work."

Billie felt paralyzed as Mike turned away. Was that it? He would walk away now that he'd said his piece? Billie couldn't take that. "Mike!" He ran up again, putting a hand on his shoulder as Mike turned, a questioning expression on the older man's face. Suddenly, he realized he didn't know what to say. "I... I..."

The other quirked his eyebrow. "Yes?" Billie felt his insides flutter, and words sputtered from his lips.

"About us... we're not... anything, are we? I mean, y'know... we're not together?"

Mike smirked. It seemed like a stupid question. Together? What did that even mean? "What do you think, Billie?"

He felt his heart pounding from the question. Suddenly, Mike seemed so close, so accessible. Only a word, and... what? Mike would be his? Billie would have the man to himself, never have to see him with another, never have to worry about the temptation he'd bring were Billie to find another? Billie would be happy? He doubted all these very seriously. Mike probably only wanted to win. And there was no way Billie could let him. He would only be hurt again. "I, um... I don't know... no?"

Still, the younger man couldn't resist returning the soft kiss offered him. Heat flared in his cheeks, and his heart continued to beat quickly as he felt Mike's hand rest softly on the back of his neck. But as they pulled apart, all he saw was Mike's signature smirk. "Then we're not together," the man said simply. Billie gaped as the man turned away again, withdrawing easily into the confines of his warm club.

Like every other kiss they'd shared, the previous one was amazing. It sent shivers down Billie’s spine and made him regret ever retreating into the cold outdoors when he could so easily be inside where it was warm, where it was safe, where he could simply rest in Mike’s arms and forget the pain and the fears. To never again have to venture into the cold, stale hotel room with its cheap printed curtains and rough sheets and cold linoleum bathroom floors. In the Mahogany, everything seemed so much more real, and the things that weren’t only made its reality that much more beautiful. But the hotel? The hotel seemed to him like nothing.

But Mike had said his piece. Billie needed to leave.

He moved towards his old car, feeling as if his physical body dreamt while his restless mind continued to buzz with questions, and the dozens of threads of thought tangled within it to form his own consciousness’ mysteries. However, the most prevailing question in his mind remained this: What did he feel about Mike?

The man was intoxicating. He was fierce and blunt and unexpectedly kind, and the power this great white tiger of a man held over him staggered the pianist to the point of shock. Why was it that this man, this near-stranger, could make him feel things he had never felt even with his former bride-to-be? Only Mike made his heart race with a glance, made him stutter and stumble with a touch, made him forget himself and everything else in the wide universe with a simple kiss. At the same time, only Mike had ever made him so infuriated with just a smirk, had belittled him through the sheer power of presence he held and killed him with the horrible truth.

So it was that the pianist found that he could not leave his car when it finally arrived at the hotel. He could only look at the place, only see the cold and the fallacy which lay trapped inside, ready to pull him in again. It was as if the building was made of frozen plastic and despondency, and Billie felt sure that he could stay in this place no longer.

No longer, at least, than one final night.