"Look, I don't understand the whole fucking thing of dates." Mickey started.

"What's the point of stuffing food in our mouths while we look at each other and then just leave to go fuck in the bathroom? It'd just like any other fuckin' day with you."

Mickey retorted, rolling his eyes as he walked beside you to the restaurant.

He wore his black button up with his black jeans, his black hair slicked back. His pimp rings adorned his fingers, along with a silver watch on his wrist.

Even though he talked his shit, he still dressed up for the date.

"But if it's what you want, whatever." He said under his breath, his hand tightening around yours slightly as you two walked.