#this... is longer than it has any right to be sdjsdjsj

[piperjalali]

your six word story — "i wish i could explain myself"

NAME: michael ‘mickey’ rivero FACECLAIM: tommy martinez  

At first he thought she was a mirage. Or a side effect of the heat stroke he was inevitably gonna get out here. Red dress, red lips, red heels higher than anything he’d ever seen, and waving to people like she was at some kind of meet and greet. Stopping to shake hands, to crack jokes, and at one point, he swears to god, kiss a baby. 

“Who the fuck’s that?” He asks Todd, because he’s stupid as shit, and useless, but he’s the only one here. Todd blinks a second before he’s looking up and clocking who he’s pointing at. His grin is all crooked teeth. 

“What, you don’t know? The bandits are in town. Y’know, from the news.” Todd replies brightly, and Mickey has to do a double take. 

“That’s a bandit? You know who I’m pointing at? The bitch in red.” Mickey asks as he points at her more firmly, just to make sure Todd’s minuscule brain hasn’t got who he’s pointing at mixed up with someone else. But Todd nods insistently, like he really knows what he’s talking about, which would be a first. 

“Yeah, man, that’s her, I swear. She’s the one in that video the news has got– you know, where she’s settin’ that mop on fire.” Todd clarifies, and he looks like he’s getting pretty full of himself, telling Mickey something he doesn’t know. He’ll have to take care of that later. 

“… Well, I’ll be damned.” Mickey murmurs for a moment, as he watches her from afar. Now that she’s a bit closer she does look familiar. Mick shifts his jaw for a moment, simply watching silently before he’s smacking Todd on the shoulder and pushing off the step they’re sitting on with a cool, “I’ll be back.”

“I’ll come with you!” Todd calls as he tries to scramble up, but Mickey doesn’t even bother to look back at him. 

“No you won’t, Todd. Stay the fuck over there.” He can hear the dull thud as Todd falls back onto the step even as he continues to make his way forward confidently, closing in on the brunette with razor sharp focus. Her back is turned to him as she’s talking to someone else– and what a fucking view. He almost doesn’t wanna ask her to turn around. He waits a bit to do it, just to savor the whole thing you know, before he’s making himself known with a smooth, “Hey there, gorgeous.” 

She pauses mid sentence to glance at him behind her, arching a pretty little brow in surprise before she’s glancing between him and who she’s talking to. And it’s just fucking Ronny. Who cares. 

“Can I steal you for a minute? Always wanted to meet a celebrity.” Mickey says with a wink, and she smiles. It’s a pretty smile, almost hesitant like she’s not sure exactly what he’s doing, but also like she’s in on a joke she’s not. He’s into it. 

“…A-Actually, we were in the middle of something, Mick–” Ronny stutters out, like Mickey gives a single fuck what he thinks. 

“Get the fuck out of here, Ronny.” Mickey replies without so much as looking away from the pretty thing in front of him. 

“But–” Ronny tries again, and Mickey’s gotta be losing his touch for a bitch like Ronny to be this bold with him. 

“What’d I fucking say?” Mickey asks as his eyes finally flick up to meet Ron’s. Ronny pauses a moment, seemingly trying to gauge whether or not tumbling around with him would be worth it. He makes the right choice, and leaves with a grumble, but his tail effectively between his legs. Good. 

“… Well, aren’t you king of the castle.” Her voice comes out in an amused purr, smooth like butter, and when Mickey’s eyes meet hers, her doe eyes are crinkled with her amusement. He grins right back at her, brows bouncing suggestively. 

“You bet your cute little ass I am. You know, I’m actually in the market for a queen. You interested?” He asks shamelessly, and she laughs, bright and genuine and free. None of that pretty fake shit. 

“You’re pretty smooth, huh?” Her voice is coloured with her laughter as she tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, meeting his gaze almost coyly. Jesus. He can only nod. 

“I am.” Mickey flicks his tongue over his chapped lips, looking her up and down in a way he knows is not subtle at all. “What’s your name, sweetheart?” 

“Kitty.” She says without a moment of hesitation. Mickey doesn’t hesitate either. 

“That’s not your name.” He says, simple matter of fact. She smiles, closed lipped and not even secretive. Just amused. 

“No, it’s not.”

“Why don’t you give me your real name?” Mickey lowers his voice to be a husky thing, his brows arching at her imploringly. Her smile widens enough to reveal a dimple as she backs away from him, stopping only once her back meets the railing of one of the old sets. 

“Oh, honey, you gotta earn that.” She replies playfully as she hoists herself up to sit on the railing. The skirt of her red dress falls perfectly around her thighs. Honestly, Mickey’s still half convinced she’s a mirage. 

“Oh, yeah?” He asks as he closes the space between them. He stops only when his torso is pretty much brushing her legs, placing both of his hands on either side of her hips to cage her in like the pretty bird she is. Her eyes twinkle. 

“Yeah.” And there’s that look again. Like she’s in on a secret he isn’t. Like she knows something he doesn’t, and it’s the funniest thing he’ll never hear. 

“… I’m Mickey.” The words fall out of his mouth without thought. It’s worth it to see her smile grow. 

“Like the mouse? Cute.” She utters the words without an inch of teasing, which only encourages Mickey more. 

“So you think I’m cute.” He latches onto cockily as his gaze scans her face. She hums as she leans back thoughtfully, dark eyes seeming to examine him in return. 

“Maybe.” God, she’s just teasing him now. And the worse part is, it’s working. 

“Baby, come on. Why don’t you come home with me? Huh?” The words are jokingly close to begging, and it’s the right move cause she laughs again. But then she simply looks at him again, eyes twinkling and secretive, and fuck. “What do I gotta do to get you to come home with me? Hm? Whatever it is, I’ll do it.” 

He doesn’t know if that was the right thing to say at first. Cause suddenly she gets real quiet. Head tilted so her dark hair spills over her bare shoulder, eyes boring so deep into him that he feels almost exposed and… read in a way that he’s not sure he’s comfortable with. And then she’s speaking, and he’s regretting even asking the question. “… Tell me why everybody’s scared of you.” 

“What?” Mickey blurts out instinctively as he pulls back, hands leaving the railing to drop to his side as he looks at her. She arches a brow and juts her chin in Todd’s direction of all places. 

“Your little friend over there quakes in his boots whenever you so much as open your mouth. Poor Ronny had a full head on you, and yet he went white as a sheet the moment you rolled up. And every else has cleared out too. Right around the time you got up.” She gestures around them with a finger, and Mickey has to follow her gaze. Honestly, over the years he’s gotten so used to it he barely noticed, but she’s right. Everybody’s gone but Todd who’s too stupid to follow. Just waiting for him on those steps like a loyal dog. “And I wanna know why. What’d you do?” 

“Nothing.” Another instinctive answer. He feels weirdly cornered, which is ridiculous. This girl is five foot nothing and in a frilly red dress for fuck’s sake. He could tear her in half with his teeth. 

“Seems like it.” Her head bobs with her nod, and Mickey looks up at her in disbelief. She noticed all this shit about him, pointed it all out, and yet she still feels like she can talk shit?

“… Fine. I killed a guy or two. Real public.” Mickey admits nonchalantly, even if the words settle like ice in his stomach. But the ice isn’t as cold as it was yesterday. Tomorrow it’ll be warmer still. Eventually he won’t fucking feel it at all. Eventually he’ll just be numb. 

“How come?” The question startles him out of his thoughts, making him zero back in on her and blink away his pity party, mostly because to how fucking casual it is. Like he hasn’t just admitted to the worse thing a person could probably ever do. Her big brown eyes are filled with curiosity and a lack of judgement that almost makes her seem innocent in a way he’s pretty sure she definitely isn’t. She is a bandit, right? Todd’s dumb ass didn’t get it wrong? 

Mickey stares at her another few moments, waiting for the punchline. There isn’t one.

“I wanted to.” Mickey answers briefly and confidently, somehow hoping that will be the end of the conversation. It’s a lie, but it’s a comfortable one. One he’s told before. 

And instead of being running for the fucking hills like a normal person, she nods. Like he told her that it’s gonna rain tomorrow or some shit. “Okay.” 

The reaction is too casual. So nonchalant that Mickey feels the need to defend himself, to clarify. “I had to.” 

But she just nods again, expression just… accepting in a way that Mickey can’t quite understand. “Okay.”  

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Mickey snaps, and the act of lashing out feels familiar. It feels right. Until her expression shifts into one of confusion, brows furrowing delicately. 

“It just means okay, baby.” She replies in turn, and Mickey can feel his anger ballooning in his chest. Can feel it rising up in his throat like bile. 

“It’s not fucking okay.” The words are sharper than they have any right to be, acidic and almost growled at her like she’s the one who did something wrong. Like she’s the one at fault here. Any girl in her right mind would be long gone. But her whole face just softens.

“Okay.” She says gently in return, and Mickey’s jaw clenches in reaction. But then she puts her hand on it, flat of her palm cupping the hinge of his jaw like he’s not all sharp edges. Her hand is soft. “Easy now. You wanna talk about it, honey?” 

“Talk about what.” He doesn’t know why he hasn’t pulled himself away from her touch yet. Honestly, he doesn’t even know why he’s still here or why he’s still talking. He should leave. “I killed them.” 

“… yeah, but about the rest of it.” Her hand drops from his jaw, and something in her face looks almost sad. “About why.” 

No one had ever asked him that so… kindly. Without any judgement. Or disgust. 

“… I had to. I–” Mickey feels small, and he hates it. He feels like a kid under this weird knowing look she’s giving him, and he hates it. “I fucking had to.” 

“… Okay.” She says, and he’d be starting to hate that word if she didn’t say it all soft like she did. Like she understood. “Who was it?” 

The words are hard to come out. Mickey isn’t even looking at her. Instead he’s looking at her stupidly high red heels. They’ve got little red puff balls on them. “…My dad. And my uncle.” 

And she just hums. Melodic and quiet like she’s encouraging to continue. And for some reason beyond him, Mickey does. 

“… I fucking had to. And I tried to explain it to them. To all of them. I wish I could explain but– no one would fucking listen to me anyways. None of them ever even tried.” He’s never said those words out loud before. Not to Todd, who’d be too dumb to understand anyways. Not to his mother. But instead to this random, mirage-like, stranger who steals people’s shit for a living. He doesn’t get it. 

“… Sometimes it’s hard for people to see other people as anything more than what they wanna see.” He finally looks up at her then, but she’s not looking at him. Her head is tilted up towards the sky, and she’s looking directly up at the cloudless expanse of it, seemingly immune to the sun’s rays. She’s not even squinting. “It’s almost scary for them, I think. To think that they could empathize with someone who’s done something horrible. They think that makes them horrible too.”

“So what you’re saying is you think I’m horrible?” Mickey’s words come out in what can only be described as a croak.

But she laughs, that same free laugh, and her head finally tilts back down. She looks at him with that secretive smile again, but this time she lets him in on it. “Honey, I’ve got an ex in jail for first degree. I ain’t judging you.” 

Mickey doesn’t know why he’s surprised. She’s a bandit after all. After a moment of simply meeting her gaze, he moves to the side of her, leaning his side against the railing as he smoothly asks, “…So what you’re saying is, you’re single?”

She arches her brows at the comment, her red lips forming a small ‘o’ of surprise for a moment before she’s narrowing her eyes playfully at him. “…Oh, you’re good.” 

He is. He feels good. Better. He watches her a second as she begins to swing her feet, seemingly content with the bubble of silence between them. “…What did he get put away for?” 

“… He was an asshole. You know the type. Real jealous. Real possessive. Think they own you, and anyone who looks at you is entreating on their property. For a long time it was really hot. But one day a guy looked at me, and he went too far. What can you do, you know?” She shrugs, nonchalant, like that’s just life, and maybe it was for her. Mickey doesn’t know. “But he just killed that guy just cause he was mad. Not for any real reason. For a while I fooled myself into thinking it was for love but… that’s not love, y’know? Not really.”

It’s weirdly like she’s far away for a minute. Swinging her feet, and just looking at them like they’ve got the answers. Mickey’s pretty sure they haven’t. He does though. Have an answer for her, the first person who ever really wanted to know. “I did it for my mom.” 

She blinks up at him in honest surprise at that. He guesses she wasn’t expecting anything. Mickey can’t blame her, he really wasn’t expecting to say that either. 

“… Y’see, that’s love. Noble even.” She says with a slow smile, and it’s the first time someone’s ever said that about anything he’s done ever in his fucking life. That was the kind of word people used for knights and shit. Or real kings. Not assholes from towns like Johnstown. But she seems to think differently because she’s looking at him with this kind of brightness in her eyes. Mickey can’t help but feel like he shouldn’t be allowed to be looked at that way. “You’re a good person, Mickey.” 

His eyes feel hot. And his throat feels fucking tight, and he somehow feels like shit but also like… fucking seen. Or whatever. Like for the first time in his life someone is looking at him and seeing more than just what’s on the surface. Like this random thief is peeking into his soul. 

He licks his lips again, and waits until the hot feeling in his eyes calms down before he’s breathlessly asking, “… you sure I can’t take you out sometime?” 

“Oh, so now it’s gone from a fuck to a whole date? I’m flattered, but… no dice, honey. Nice try though!” She hops off the railing and dusts off the back of her pretty red dress with both hands. Mickey isn’t ashamed to admit he checks out her ass. She might be some weird mythical mirage creature or something, but he’s only a man. She shoots him a wink as she twirls around and moves to leave, eyes still sparkling as she says, “See you around, Mickey.” 

The moment she’s moving away it hits him. The moment she’s gone she could be really gone. The one person in this goddamn town who ever let him say what’d been weighing him down forever, what even his own mother wouldn’t hear a word of, could be out of here forever. And he would have missed his fucking chance. It’s on a whim that he moves after her, grabbing her by the hand and swinging her back around like they do in those fucking sappy movies, an arm around her waist as he leans in—

Only to stop at the feeling of something awfully sharp poking into his gut.

She smiles at him, a real pretty but almost sharp thing, as she trails the pocket knife, his pocket knife that he swears to all fuck was in his pocket a second ago, up his t-shirt with almost playful slowness. 

“Oh, Mickey.” The knife finally reaches the collar of his shirt, hooks on it briefly before she’s sweetly bringing it to his throat. He swallows hard, and his adam’s apple bobs. “Don’t push it, honey.” 

Mickey doesn’t even know what to say. Honestly, he’s trying to figure out if he’s turned on or terrified. 

“You know, I’ve been lookin’ for a souvenir.” She says as she examines his knife. It’s nothing special really. He stole it off some other guy, but it’s got some engravings on the metal of the handle. It’s just roses and shit but her eyes seem to light up as she runs her thumb over them. “I think I’ll be taking this.” With that she beams up at him as she closes the knife and tucks it into her bra, like she didn’t just steal from him right in front of his damn face. Mickey thought he would breathe a bit easier now that the knife wasn’t at his throat, but then she’s leaning forward until her lips are brushing his ear. Her hair smells like mango. “And you know what? If you can take it back from me… maybe you’ll earn more than my name.” 

She struts off then, walking backwards through the dirt road as he stands there mildly stunned. He can do nothing but watch her walk away until he hears Todd’s stupid heavy breathing getting louder and louder as he jogs over. He’s panting a bit as he finally stops at his side, folded over with his hands on his knees as he catches his breath. 

“So… what happened? Were you guys… talking about me? It looked like… you guys.. were talking about me…” Todd asks between his dramatic heaves, but before Mickey can do much more than open his mouth his name is being called from a distance. 

“Mickey! Hey Mickey!” She’s got her hands cupped around her mouth, red lips perfectly framed by them. Mickey arches a brow. “You follow me home and I’ll cut your balls clean off, okay? I’ll spayed you like a dog!” 

The weird thing is, she’s grinning as she says it. Waving at him wide and grand with her whole arm over her head like this is some big farewell. She blows him a dramatic as hell kiss before she’s turning the corner, but despite all of it, the threat still somehow feels very real. Mickey doesn’t follow her. 

He can only blink for another few moments, silent before he turns to his dumb best friend, the only asshole who’s never left him because he’s too stupid to be on his own. He looks at him, and he honestly says, “… Toddy, I think I’m fucking in love.” 

Todd blinks at him. Once. Twice. And then he smiles, his big dumb crooked grin. “… Nice.”

… God, Mickey needs a new friend.