"Mickey."
Mickey peered up at James while chugging down a cold bottle of water, feeling drops run down his chin and disappear under his dirty tanktop. He let out a content sigh once he replenished his thirst and twisted the cap back on the bottle. James watched him. "What's up?"
"In pulling out for an hour, think you could cover for me?" James asked, a cigarette between his lips.
Mickey squinted at the few cars lined up. "Sure, why not. You headed somewhere specific?"
James exhaled the smoke from his mouth and gave Mickey an amused look. "Nope. Nowhere special."
"Bullshitting on the job, huh?" Mickey asked, making James laugh.
"With a job like this, who wouldn't?"
"So the family death was bullshit too, then?"
James's face lost emotion, his eyebrows dropping and eyelids becoming more hooded than before. He looked down at the ground and swallowed, flicking the cigarette to the concrete. "No, it wasn't."
His voice sounded just as petulant as he looked. Mickey's throat went dry, mentally hitting himself. "Oh- shit, man... I'm sorry. I'm a fucking idiot, just ignore me seriously-"
"It's okay," James interrupted, clearing his throat. He stood up and pulled his uniform over his bare arms, buttoning it up over his tank top that matched Mickey's. "Dean's inside taking interviews. I'll be back later."
Mickey cursed under his breath as James walked away, a feeling of guilt creeping up his spine. Mickey and his big fucking mouth. "James!"
James turned around slowly and stood silently. He motioned with his hands, what?
"If you uh, ever need to talk," Mickey advised awkwardly. "Like, for advice or something or just to vent. I'm here."
James nodded, not looking directly at Mickey. He shoved his tattooed hands in his uniform pockets and walked away. Mickey watched as he left, still a little raw from the previous situation.
"Mickey Milkovich."
Mickey turned his head, raising an eyebrow at the dirty, disheveled kids before him. One held a baseball bat in his hand and the two others held pocket knives and clenched fists. He glanced up at the kid who spoke with an uninterested look. "The fuck do you want?"
"You don't remember me?" The kid asked with fake innocence. His friends chuckled.
"Lotta dirty faces around here, but let me try and see if I can remember all your names," Mickey pretended to think for a second before pointing at the kid with the baseball bat. "You must be Jackass. How could I forget you?" He moved down the line. "You must be Twat, and you're Assbreath. The famous trio."
All three boys grit their teeth and held tightly onto their weapons. "Very fucking funny, Milkovich. I see you changed up your look, you look like more of a bitch than you did before."
Mickey straightened his back and ran his tongue over his teeth, sucking in a deep breath. With one single movement he sucker punched, what was it? Assbreath? In the face sending him to the ground in seconds. Mickey had a hand around the baseball bat before Jackass could swing and used it to hit the knife out of Twat's hand, then rammed the wood into Twat's knees, sending him next to the groaning mess on the floor. Jackass was last to the ground with the baseball bat right to his nose.
Mickey breathed harshly before kicking Assbreath in the stomach aggressively, then dropping the baseball bat on his curled up body. "Next time you pieces of shit decide to fuck with someone, choose somebody more your type. I'm Mickey fucking Milkovich, bitches. Do not try to fuck with me."
"Faggot," one of the boys, probably Assbreath, mumbled. Mickey felt a burning rage race through him. He ran both hands through his growing hair, pushing it back.
"That I am, boys," he replied, walking away. "That I am."
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Sometimes, people can go crazy when something they love is taken away from them.
Ian was now realizing this.
Whenever he thought of Kash, of the blood on his hands, of Maria helping him, he didn't feel guilt. He felt crazy. Who does something like that? He tried to convince himself that it was just the moment, just the situation he was in that forced him to murder Kash.
After all, Kash did try to take away the most important person in Ian's life.
Maybe Ian should see a doctor or something. Because ever since last night, after the wedding and Mickey declaring that they should both just be friends, Ian couldn't stop thinking about Mickey. It's nothing surprising really, since he always thinks of Mickey, but now he's literally the only thing on the red head's mind.
That's how Ian ended up here.
"So, how are you feeling, Ian?"
Ian looked up at Anthony, the group councilor. It was Ian's first day in group therapy and he wasn't regretting it yet, but he also wasn't enjoying it. Being put on the spot, sharing thoughts- he can barely do that with his own siblings.
"I feel OK," Ian replied nonetheless. "For the most part."
"Is there something bothering you? Something that you'd like to talk about and share?"
"Just a breakup, really," Ian mumbled, fidgeting slightly. "I fucked up and lost everything."
Anthony cocked his head. Everybody stared at Ian. "How did you mess up?"
Ian's mouth was dry. "I, um... took off. Ran away. Disappeared for too long. By the time I got back, he was over it. Over me. I can tell he doesn't feel what I still feel anymore. But I can also tell he's fighting off any feelings he has left for me."
"How can you be so sure?"
"It's his eyes, they've always said everything his mouth couldn't. Everytime I needed an answer I would just look in his eyes. They never failed to express his emotions."
"And what exactly do you see in his eyes when you're around him?"
Ian thought for a moment, eyes on the ground. "Guilt. Regret. Sadness. I can see that he craves a love he feels doesn't exist with me. I wish I knew how to tell him that it does."
"You could just tell him," another person suggested. "You could convince him."
"I can tell that when I left I took all his love and sympathy with me. He said he's done better without me. I feel as if I'm holding him off from better things. Do you know what I mean?"
"We understand, Ian. Tell me, what better things could you be holding him off from?"
Ian sighed heavily. "I don't know... a better job? A relationship? A family?"
"If you really love him as much as it sounds like you do, why did you leave him?" A guy asked. Ian glanced at the name tag on his shirt. Casey.
"For a job that I wanted my whole life," Ian replied with a small voice. "I guess it was either him or the job. I let my ambition get the best of me."
"Couldn't he go with you to your job?"
Ian shook his head. "No. He didn't like my choice of employment. He couldn't commit to not seeing me for months, maybe longer."
"Would you like to tell us what job this is?"
Ian decided fuck it, why not tell them? "Military."
"Dude what the fuck?" Casey snorted. "Imagine the shit you put your boyfriend through, making him choose a decision like that."
"Him? What about me? I feel like a fucking failure giving up on my dreams for a relationship."
"We're starting to get somewhere, Ian. You had to choose between ambition or love. You chose love because you came back. Do you feel you made the right decision?"
Ian sighed and thought for a minute. "Honestly, no. Mickey doesn't want me anymore. He don't need me. He's said it and I can feel it."
There were a few whispers scattered around. Ian looked around at them, confused. Casey stared right at Ian with big eyes. "Mickey? Did you say Mickey?"
"Uh, yeah," Ian replied awkwardly. He looked at Anthony for help. "Mickey is- was my boyfriend."
"Alright, let's settle down," Anthony said loudly, cutting off the quiet voices. "Ian, Mickey was with us for one session because of probation requirements. That's how we know him."
"He was?" Ian asked, surprised.
"Yeah, after he went batshit insane, beating a guy almost to death at the Alibi." Casey crossed his arms. "That your fault too?"
"Who the fuck are you exactly?" Ian spat, standing up. Casey stood up too.
"A friend of Mickey's," Casey replied with a snark look. "That bother you?"
"Sit down. Both of you," Anthony instructed, authority in his voice. Ian glared as hard as he could at Casey before sitting down in his seat. Casey sat down as well, eyes still on Ian. Ian looked to the side, his leg bouncing agitatedly.
-
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"M-Mickey?"
Mickey glanced up at Ian who had just entered the Gallagher house, just returning from the group council meeting. The red head's eyes widened as he watched Mickey toy around with Liam. "Hey, Gallagher. Where you been?"
Mickey was obviously trying to make himself sound as if he was uninterested, as if he didn't give a single fuck about wherever Ian's been or whatever he's been doing. But Ian could see right through those blue eyes. Mickey will never stop being the protective little shit Ian knows he is. "Ah, nowhere. Here and there, meeting with old friends. Why you here?"
"Just got off work, thought I'd give Liam a visit," Mickey chuckled as he threw an action figure at Liam, averting the little boy's attention from the TV. Liam turned his head and smiled at Ian before snapping his head back towards the TV like a squirrel. Ian laughed, his heart warming up.
Just for a second, a sight like this: Mickey with their own child, watching TV, both happy to see Ian home. They'd all watch together, Mickey and Ian sharing loving touches and moments with their child/children. It was so overwhelming to Ian that he craved it so much.
"Anyway," Ian cleared his throat, sitting down on the couch near Mickey- not next to him, but near him- and resisted kissing those cute lips. "You know a guy named Casey?"
Mickey's eyebrows shot up. "Why?"
"Is that a yes?"
Mickey rolled his eyes and slumped back on the couch. "What, you stalking me now, Gallagher?"
Ian cringed at the name Mickey gave him. He liked it when Mickey called him Ian, he would say it more lovingly. Gallagher sounded rough, annoyed. It made Ian feel small and just... unwanted. "No. Just bumped into this guy, said his name was Casey. You came up while we were talking and he said he knew you."
"Well yeah, I know him," Mickey finally replied.
Ian swallowed heavily. "You just friends?"
Mickey pinched the bridge of his nose and gave Ian a tired look. "C'mon man, we talked about this. Me and you, we're just friends. Whatever I'm doing with Casey don't matter to you."
"It matters a lot to me," Ian couldn't help the little crack in his voice. "You'll never be able to have what we had with anyone else but me."
"Who says I'm fucking looking for what we had?" Mickey spat venomously, eyes piercing. "Last time I checked, I'm not looking for another guy to run out on me."
"Fuck you, Mickey, you didn't even let me explain why I left."
"I don't wanna hear it, Gallagher. You're real goddamn blessed in the bullshit department."
"You know what, Mick. You, with your problems and your fucked up daddy issues, nobody is going to accept you like I did. I saved you. I gave you a place to stay when you had nowhere to go. I did my best to keep you and your siblings safe in my house, putting my family in danger. I let myself be shot for you. I was kidnapped for you. I killed someone for you. I gave up on all my dreams and ambitions for you. If all you're gonna judge me for is running away, then maybe you gotta think of the good things over the one bad thing that I did. Because I did so, so fucking much, Mickey. All out of love."
Ian took a deep breath, not letting his tears fall from his eyes. "And for some fucking reason, you can't even say you love me."
"I-" Mickey croaked as Ian stood up, heading to the door again. "I do."
"No you don't," Ian replied sourly, hand on the doorknob. "You don't love me until you can say it."
Mickey covered his mouth with his hand as the door slammed shut, hiding his pathetic whimper from escaping his mouth. Liam looked at him with pouty eyes, no doubt hearing the whole conversation.
I actually am so angry at myself for this late short update. There's two more parts coming TOMORROW just because you amazing readers are so patient with me. Also your guy's comments are the funniest things ever, I laugh so hard while reading them 😂
How about.... 50 votes and 50 comments? I know you pretty angels can do it!! Love you xoxo