blue ; gallavich

11

MICKEY

Ian grips my shoulder firmly, begging me not to do anything to jeopardize my probation or land me back in jail. Basically asking me not to do something that we will both later regret. Though my main focus is on beating the living shit out of Caleb and choking him until he's helplessly gasping for air and his face is turning shades of purple and blue, I don't carry on with my plan. I, instead, stand there mindlessly staring into Ian's imploring eyes, deciding wisely on my next move.

One glance at Ian's innocent face and feel utterly defeated. "Fine. I won't kill him. Yet. But only because I'm not willing to go back to prison for that stupid prick. I'm not doing this for you." I stammer out, surprising myself at how big of a lie that was. I mean, part of it was true- not wanting to go to jail for Caleb's dumb ass- but at the same time I would do practically anything for Ian, and killing Caleb would mean I went to jail for Ian. But I know he'd be extremely disappointed with me and I just got back. I don't want to risk the chance of losing him again when I'm so close to making him mine.

He smiles, also catching on to the fib and sighs a mighty sigh of relief. I peel my gaze away from him and walk outside into the freezing air as he follows, sitting down beside me on the porch steps. I light a cigarette, and I offer Ian one too as he willingly takes it. I frown as I think about the old days and how normal everything was. How nice it was before things went to complete and total shit.

Ian, obviously having the same thoughts, randomly asks, "Hey, Mick? Remember that time when Monica came back- it was around the third or fourth time we fucked- and I came to your house all scared and panicked?"

I look down and bite my tongue, remembering how stressed and frightened Ian looked at the time. It pained me to see him that anxious, even the old Mickey felt alarmed. "Yeah. Why?"

"What was going on in your head when you saw me on your front porch? Like, what were you thinking?" Ian asks, a genuinely interested hint in his tone.

"Well, I was kinda frustrated with your timing at first; Terry and Iggy and I were planning to go murder some stupid scumbag that called my sister a whore. But on the bright side, you probably saved me from life in prison. But when I saw how out of breath you were I sorta panicked I was pretty concerned at that point." I stop for a second to think about what happened next and decide to completely skip the part about me running to get to him and worrying about what was happening.

"Then I was put back into a bad mood when I saw Kash's perv ass lurking there. He's too old to be fucking a fifteen year old. I went to the back, assuming that you'd be there. The only good thing- other than excellent taste in guns- that I got from being Terry's son was a sense of fear. I'm not sure how to put this logically, but it's as if I can literally just smell when someone is scared or somethin'. Anyways, you were in the back room, which is freezing fucking cold like could you have chosen anywhere else? You stared at me and you looked fucking terrified and I was confused as shit with what was going on and I was honestly nervous as fuck to hear why you were panicking.

"You started taking about how your mom came back to fuck everything up again, then you said some shit in, like, gibberish, then started talking really fucking fast about how she was gonna ruin your lives again. By this point I kinda understood your issue and what was going on but I was a little caught off guard by your sobbing and shit. I'm not sure why, but seeing you cry makes me feel really guilty, even when it's not my fault. It's the same when I see Mandy cry. I just feel so guilty.

"And then I just let my guard down and hugged you. I was really nervous at that point about hugging you but I kinda felt the need to do it I guess. And I remember being really freaked out and shit because I was just new to the whole 'affection' thing. And then you cried and I was awkward and just thinking 'the fuck do I do now' and then me being me I got a fucking boner and... Well then we fucked and Kash caught us and I freaked the fucking fuck out and ran. So yeah." I finish, lighting up yet another cigarette. I look over at Ian, who's staring at me intensely.

He chuckles to himself quietly before saying, "if anyone would've told me that Mickey Milkovich would actually express his feelings to me, I would've punched them in the face and told them to stop lying to me."

"Surprise." I say sarcastically, taking a long drag of my cigarette and handing it over to Ian, who takes it graciously.

"Throw me a fucking party while you're at it." He teases as I roll my eyes and shove his arm playfully.

"Fuck off, man." I reply, standing up and stretching. "Just for that, you don't get any more shitty stories from me." I taunt as he looks at me sorrowfully.

"No no no. I'm sorry. My bad, Mick. My bad." He pleads as I smile in a tempting way.

"Grab me a beer and I'll tell you more." I bargain as he rushes inside, coming back out with a cold beer in hand.

"Damn Gallagher, that was fast." I say as he snickers, obviously making a pun in his mind.

"Not the only thing I do quickly." He says as I laugh and then glare at him for actually making me laugh at something so ridiculous. Fuck you, Gallagher. Fuck you for making me laugh at your stupid shit. Fuck your stupid shit. Fuck you stupid ass. Your stupid, perfect ass that I actually wouldn't mind fucking right now.

"Shut the fuck up, fucking dork." I sneer, glaring at him but with an amused grin on my face. He's fucking dumb but I find myself falling for him anyways. Fuckin' Gallagher making me feel and shit. I look over at his pale face, looking older and definitely more mature than he did when he was fifteen. He looked so much more innocent back then, if that's even possible. But I still fell for him really fucking hard.

"Okay. This is from back when we were like seventeen and you had your shaved hair and you were looking like a fucking dweeb at the time. Also, you were seventeen for like, three years, man." I begin to say as we both laugh at the memory of the wannabe soldier in training. He looked fucking ridiculous back then.

But it's alright. I like Carrot Tops. With the red hair and freckles. Fuckin' alien lookin'. I like Dweebs. I like Dorks, Doofs and Weirdoes. Especially this one.