It was kind of funny actually. The last time Mickey had spent the night at Ian's, he woke up and went immediately to the toilet. And once again that was the case. He woke up with a raging headache and nausea that was so bad he had vomited in the toilet once. Now he just laid back against the bathroom wall, rubbing his head.
"Here," Ian says. "These are Lip's clothes but I doubt he'll notice. Your shirt has blood all over it and they probably won't let you into school that way." Ian sets the pair of Lip's clothing down on the sink before stepping over Mickey and starting the shower. "Fi's gonna make breakfast so you can just meet me down there when you're done" Mickey gives him a curt nod before forcing himself up on his feet. He shuts the bathroom door and strips out of his dirtied clothes, climbing into the hot shower.
The feeling was amazing. Nine times out of ten the Milkovich household was out of hot water by the time Mickey got to shower so he eventually gave up on even trying to shower. But the way the hot water beat down on his bruised skin helped him remember how good it felt.
It burnt slightly, turning his pale skin a soft red color. But Mickey welcomed the new pain. It felt better than the stinging of his cut up face or the pain that raged through his head. If Mickey could, he'd spend the next several years of his life in this shower. In here he felt safe, locked away from Terry and his abusive tendencies.
He grabs the shampoo and scrubs it into his hair. The water trickling down his body turns a pink color as the blood that matted the back of his head rinsed down his body, mixing in with the water at his feet. Mickey stared at it, watching the two colors mix on the shower floor.
"Fuck," he groans out, rinsing out his hair. Mickey didn't want to go to school, but he had no other option. He didn't want to go home and if Ian was going, Mickey wanted to go just to be by him. Mickey wanted the feeling of safety he felt with Ian to never end. If he could he'd follow Ian around everywhere just to feel that sense of security.
Once showered and rinsed off, Mickey steps out of the shower and shivers as he grabs an old white towel. He towels himself off before tugging on the clothes Ian left him. Mickey gently dried his hair with the towel, careful of the bump on the back of his head before exiting the bathroom. He walks down the stairs and the scent of pancakes practically slaps him in the face.
"Hey, feeling better?" Ian asks, grinning at him. Mickey just stares back. The rest of the Gallaghers sat around the table and Mickey could have sworn he had never felt so out of place than he did in that moment.
Mickey offers Ian a small shrug before helping himself to the pancakes. He grabs a plate and loads them up with syrup and butter. He takes the empty seat next to Ian and stuffs a big bite of pancakes into his mouth.
"What the hell happened to your face?" Carl asks, sipping his orange juice. Mickey shoots him a glare from across the table.
"None of your fuckin' business," he grumbles, mouth full of pancakes. Lip on the other hand shot Ian a small smirk. Ian caught his brother's look and immediately glares back.
"Don't," he mouths. When he had told Lip about his crush on Mickey, he wasn't expecting the boy to show up at his house needing a place to sleep. He was expecting to keep his distance from Lip and the others. But now that he hadn't, he was slightly worried that his little secret would get out. But Ian did trust Lip. That was the whole reason why he had told him about his crush in the first place. He knew Lip wouldn't snitch on him to Mickey.
"We should get going," Ian says and Mickey nods, desperate to get out of room of Gallaghers. He shoved he last of his pancakes into his mouth before standing up. He snatches the mostly empty gallon of orange juvie from the table and downs it quickly.
"So you paying for groceries around here now?" Lip taunts.
Mickey just flips him off. "Fuck off there was like a sip left," he mumbles, walking to the living room. He slips into his shoes and coat as Ian does the same.
"We can stop at your house real quick to grab your backpack."
"Fuck That. Not like I use it anyways," the older boy says. He opens the door and walks out, Ian right behind him.
Ian nods, glancing over at Mickey as they walk down the sidewalk. "Head feeling any better?"
Mickey nods. "Yeah, a bit. After I showered and ate it's a bit better."
Ian nods. "You're not coming to boxing tonight, right?" He wanted the older boy to come to boxing. Mickey was the thing he liked the most about it. He'd be lying if he said Mickey beating on a punching bag while wearing a tight tank top wasn't one of the hottest things he had ever seen.
"Why wouldn't I?" He asks, raising an eyebrow.
Ian stares at him before letting out a small chuckle. "Mick, you've got a concussion. Hell you probably shouldn't even be going to school today."
Mickey rolls his eyes. "I'll be fine at boxing. I need it anyways," he mumbles.
"What do you mean?" Ian asks, frowning.
Mickey shrugs. He opens up his pack of cigarettes and places one between his lips, lighting it up. "Pent up anger and shit. Gotta let it out one way or another," he explains. He takes a drag from the cigarette before holding it out for Ian who takes it gratefully.
"But if you get knocked around and shit it's gonna mess with your head and make it worse," he mumbles around the cigarette. Mickey rolls his eyes.
"Stop sounding like a fucking pussy."
The rest of the walk was rather quiet. The two boys continued to pass the cigarette back and forth. Once they reached the school they both went their separate ways. Mickey went to his friends and Ian went over to Mandy.
"Thank god you're finally here," Mandy says. "Have you seen Mickey?"
Ian nods as the two of them sit down on a bench. "Yeah, he spent the night at my place. I meant to text you and tell you but I kinda forgot."
"It's okay. I was just worried about him last night because I know he went on a run with Terry and those things don't always end well."
Ian nods, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, uh... he was a little beaten up. But I helped him and shit."
Mandy nods, smiling over at Ian. She was happy Mickey finally had someone who would look out for him. She had always tried her best to do it herself but Mickey wasn't always the most open or willing to accept the help she offered. But for strange reason, she noticed Mickey getting close with Ian faster than what she was used to. "Thanks, Ian. He just worries me sometimes. He'll get into a fight with Terry or get drunk and then he won't come home that night. And half the time I think he sleeps under the bridge when he does it."
Ian nods. "I told him he can come over whenever. Same goes to you, Mandy." She smiles, kissing Ian's cheek.
Soon the halls began to shrink in body count as everyone scurried off to class. Mickey walks into his first hour just as the bell rang. "I was fucking worried about you, asshole," Mandy says to him. Her eyes go wide as she slowly scans mickeys face. "Holy shit... Mick what happened?"
He shakes his head and slumps down into his seat. "Not in the mood to talk about it."
"You never are Mickey," she mutters back. Mandy turns around in her chair to face her brother. "Tell me what fucking happened."
"Fuck off, Mandy. Said I don't wanna talk about this right now."
"Then when, huh?" She asks, folding her arms over her chest. Mickey rolls his eyes and flips her off, glaring daggers at his sister.
"Hello, would the Milkovichs like to join us for class today?" Mr. Sterns asks. He had yet another one of his cardigans. This one was a dark turquoise color with a black and white flannel underneath, hair gelled back perfectly.
Mickey shrugs. "Not really feeling it today, Sterns. Think Imma take the day off."
Mr. Sterns sighs. "That wasn't an option. You're participating today. In fact, why don't you come do the bell ringer for us on the board?" He asks, holding the chalk out to Mickey.
"No," Mickey says. He rubs his forehead, trying to rub away the small headache he had.
"Yes, now." Mickey stares back at the other man, waiting for him to break the stare down first. When he didn't Mickey let out a heavy sigh and forced himself out of his seat. He walked up to the board and snatched the chalk from his hands. He tried his best to ignore the man's soften expression as he looked at the bruises littering his face. He turns and faces the board, reading over the chemistry equation before shrugging. "I don't know it." Which was a lie. Mickey knew how to do this problem easy. If he really wanted to, he could probably even calculate it in his head.
"At least try the-"
"I fucking told you I don't know how to do it!" Mickey says angrily. He was sick and tired of being bossed around and knocked around by guys older than him. "I'm not fucking doing it!" He slams the piece of chalk on the ground and looks back up at the teacher.
"Hallway. Now," he says in a deadly tone. Mickey snorts.
"Already on my way out," he mutters back. He walks out the classroom, slamming the door behind him and leans back against the wall. The rest of the class Mickey stayed with his back against that wall, eyes closed. He had to do everything in his power not to just punch a hole in every wall there, but it was hard. His anger was only growing which caused his headache to worsen with it. Finally the final bell rang and Mr. Sterns came out to retrieve Mickey. "Mikhailo, speak with me for a moment." Mickey let's out a heavy sigh as he forced himself onto his feet and into the teacher's class room.
"What do you want?" He mumbles. Sterns shuts the door and sighs heavily.
"I'm sick of your outbursts, Mickey. The detentions don't seem to be doing the job and I'm considering bringing your parents in for a meeting on how to fix this."
The second the word "parents" came out of the teacher's mouth, Mickey looked up at him, trying to hide the fear on his face.
"Dad wouldn't come to the school."
"What about your mom?"
"Dead."
Sterns rubs his forehead and nods slowly. "Why wouldn't your dad come?"
Mickey knocked his knuckles against the side of his nose. "Works a lot so he ain't home often."
Mr. Sterns stares the boy down, trying to deceiver his lie. "I'm going to give him a call anyways so we can set up a meeting when he's available."
Mickey shakes his head. "You're just wasting your fucking time. He won't come here."
"Then let me waste my time. Let me call him and see what happens.... why are you so against him coming?"
Mickey licks his split lip and looks away from him. "I'm not... I ain't against it. Just trying to save your time," he mumbles. Sterns immediately senses the shift in the boy's attitude and starts to put the pieces together. The bruises and cuts were only the scars Terry had left on the outside of the boy and Sterns was finally now realizing that. He knew Mickey was into dumb shit and was a fighter so he always blamed the cuts on that. But now he wasn't so sure.
"Have you ever thought about talking to a counselor here?"
Mickey immediately raises an eyebrow. "The fuck for?"
He sighs and shakes his head. "Never mind," he said, not wanting to start the boy back up again. He could sense the hostility Mickey felt towards the whole subject and figured he went through enough in the past few days. "Listen... I won't call your dad yet. But these misdemeanors need to stop. Do we have an understanding, Mikhailo?"
Mickey rolls his eyes and nods, picking up his backpack. "Yeah, sure. Whatever Sterns," he mutters, leaving the classroom without a second glance.
________________________________
It was a quiet ride to Buster's Gym. The two boys sat next to eachother like usual but neither one spoke to the other. The first time one of them tried to actually speak was when they had already changed and were walking out of the locker room together. "Mickey, you really shouldn't box anyone today," Ian says to him. He carried his new boxing gloves with him into the gym and walked over to the punching back with Mickey.
"Stop being such a pussy, Gallagher. I'll be fine," Mickey says, grinning a bit. He licks his busted up lip before wrapping his hands in the white tape. "Wanna hold it for me?" He gestures toward the bag. Ian nods. The boy sets down his boxing gloves before moving behind the bag and holding it in place for Mickey to hit. The older boy squared up to the bag and hit it with such force that Ian stumbled backwards a bit. Mickey could feel the adrenaline and anger quickly rushing back into his hands as he slammed them into the bag, pretending it was his dad instead of a stupid bag.
"Shit, Mick," Ian breaths out, licking his lips. Mickey smirks at him, slamming another fist into the bag and trying to ignore the pain resurfacing in his head. "Hey, why don't you sit down for a second?" He asks, noticing Mickey's light headedness. He backs away from the bag just far enough so that he could look at Ian
"I'm fine," he says, face blank. "In fact... hey you!" He calls, waving a boy over. "You wanna get in there with me?" He points to the boxing ring and the boy nods.
"Hell yeah," he grins.
As Mickey starts to follow behind him, Ian grabs him by the wrist. "Mickey, c'mon. You're gonna fuck your head up even more."
Mickey stares down at Ian's hand for a split second before yanking it away. He reaches past Ian and grabs a pair of boxing gloves, slipping them on. "I don't need a babysitter," he mutters, walking into the ring with the boy.
"Looks like someone already kicked your ass," the kid says, looking at Mickey's cut up face.
Mickey ignores the comment as he swings a fist forward, colliding with the taller boy's cheek. The kid stumbled backwards and moves his jaw back and forth, easing the pain. Mickey would have taken the opportunity to throw another punch but he felt the dizziness return. He squeezed his eyes shut for a split second and opened them just in time to see a gloved hand flying towards his face. He tried to move out of the way but his actions were slow and sluggish, ending with the punch landing him square in the nose. Mickey stumbles on his feet, but somehow maintains his balance. Everything around him started getting blurry. Even the kid in front of him seemed out of focus. It was so bad that Mickey barely noticed as another punch landed him on his ass and hurt his already split lip. He let's out a groan and swings a fist forward. The taller kid knocks it away with ease and with one more punch, Mickey was on his ass.
"That's enough," he heard a voice say. Mickey glances over through his blurry vision and could make out the features of a familiar red head climbing into the ring. "C'mon, Mick." Ian reaches down and pulls Mickey up by slipping his arms under his shoulders.
"I'm fuckin' fine," Mickey grumbles out angrily. He had gone in there hoping to release some anger by wailing away on some random kid, but instead had walked out with even more pent up anger.
"Just shut up," Ian says back. He carefully helps Mickey back into the locker room but as soon as the doors close, Mickey shoved Ian hard in the chest.
"Just leave me the fuck alone! I was fine! I was gonna kick his ass!"
Ian rolls his eyes. "The only guy getting their ass beat was you. You looked like you were about to puke."
Mickey shakes his head and glares at Ian. "I'm sick of this," he whispers out, knocking his knuckles against the side of his nose.
Ian frowns, looking over at him. "Sick of what?"
Mickey shakes his head, sitting down on the bench. "Sick of fucking everything. I don't know if there's anything that doesn't either piss me off or make me wanna explode."
Ian nods understandably. Sure Frank had his moments and had hit Ian or his siblings. But that was rare and only when he was trashed. Ian couldn't even begin to image having his father beat him on a regular basis like Mickey's did. The things that did to Mickey were too horrible for Ian to even think about.
So he understood why Mickey was angry. He hadn't won the fights at home and so he needed to win the ones here to compensate.
"I brought you a Gatorade," Ian says quietly, trying to calm him. He pulls out a blue Gatorade and holds it out to Mickey. The older boy looks over at him and couldn't help the small smile on his face. He sits down on the bench next to Ian and grabs the Gatorade from his hands.
"Thanks," he mumbles, taking a long sip from it.
Ian nods a bit, biting his bottom lip. Mickey glances over at him and so help him did he want to just lean in and kiss Ian right there. He wanted to be the one tugging and biting at Ian's bottom lip. But he couldn't.
At least not yet.