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The back roads to Indiana were always Mickey’s favorite as a child; nothing but grass and land and ponds that helped cool the summer nights while they just drived.
But the windows were up, trapping in the tension suffocating Mickey. He was spitting out breath for breath like it was a bad taste; it’s been almost twelve hours, and he’s gone through a list of people to blame:
Fiona, for believing it was all so simple.
Lip, for deciding Monica’s old pills would be enough.
Himself, for not realizing soon enough.
He’d gotten a reply from Ian hours after he texted him, asking where on earth he was:
Ian-back road
He was going out on a limb, guessing Ian was talking about one of his favorite childhood memories, but Ian liked hearing about that, how their mom would take them to Indiana when Terry was too drunk to be around, when they had enough money to just get out. Ian liked that story.
And it was a long road with twists and turns. He almost gave up hope when he was near the end of the trail, where there was a gas station to greet anyone entering the state of Indiana. But he found Ian, standing there at the train tracks, the last set before the entrance.
Mickey stopped the car, calling out for Ian. “Hey, man!”
Ian turned as Mickey climbed out of the car, slamming the door shut and walking swiftly over to him. “I’ve been looking for hours, man,” Mickey said when he finally stood next to Ian. “How the hell did you get out here?”
Ian’s voice was thick and heavy as he spoke. “Ran into Monica, I asked her to take me out here. We both got out the car and just sat here, looking and stuff, y’ know? I think she was high or something…I wondered off into the grass, just to see what I’d find or somethin’…she must’ve forgotten I was there.” He went quiet, his words whispered. “She left me.” He dropped his head, unable to hold back whatever he’d been thinking about. “Everyone forgets me.” The tears erupted, fast and hard. With the amount of talking he was doing, he couldn’t possibly hold back the tears pushing at the back of his throat.
Mickey reacted instantly, not hesitant a bit. He grabbed Ian’s shoulder, spinning the taller boy around so that he’d face Mickey. But Ian refused to look at Mickey.
“Hey, look at me.” Mickey grabbed Ian’s face forcefully, forcing Ian to make eye contact with the frantic Mickey. “That’s not true, Ian. I swear it’s not true. We’ve all been worried sick about you. You weren’t home and I started looking. I don’t forget you.” With every statement, Mickey’s voice became shakier, seeing Ian didn’t believe his words. “Don’t shake your head at me, Ian. Trust me, people care. Just…”
“I couldn’t do it.”
“Do what? What couldn’t you do?” Mickey’s eyes kept searching, he saw a coldly familiar dead look in those green eyes and the fear he knew was there crept to the forefront.
“A train already came by…I couldn’t…but…I have to.”
“What, Ian?” It all came racing toward him as Ian put the image in his head. He shook his head, trying to somehow make Ian believe. “No you don’t. You don’t have to-“
“But I do!” Ian pushed away, heading towards to track again. His eyes never left Mickey’s; that made it scarier.
No, it was the sound of a train coming that made it scarier. He looked both ways and it was still out of sight. He had time, but not that much.
Ian laughed manically. “You know,” he shouted past his tears, “I thought to myself ‘will they miss me when I’m gone?’ and I thought, yeah; maybe for a minute, a day, a week, a month. But they’d forget; you’d all forget because you all have shit to deal with. My shit isn’t as important as everybody else’s shit. Am I right or am I right?” He laughed some more, now standing in the middle of the tracks.
This wasn’t right; it couldn’t be. Mickey had to be having a nightmare. The sound of the train grew louder as it rode forward, metal rolling against metal. And he followed Ian, finding himself in the middle of the tracks to. He did that kind of thing for Ian: put himself in front of a gun, in front of a train- all for Ian.
He grabbed Ian’s hands, not sure if it was his own shaking or the manic boy he held onto. “Ian, please, please, please, please…” he was ready to go off on a tangent, say anything and everything to just make Ian follow him off the tracks. The gravel began to rumble close by, and the train was in view. He looked back up to Ian, seeing through the thick haze of his own tears that Ian was standing before him; his Ian, helpless. He pulled them, a part of Ian trying to tug away from Mickey’s grasp. “Ian, please. Try. For me.” He inched them closer to the edge, talking quickly and loud to make sure Ian would catch everything. “It was shit when you weren’t here. Everyone always asked about you. I asked about. I practically forgot I was supposed to be pretending to be straight. I got sloppy. I thought you’d be back in four years and I couldn’t take. Please, please, please Ian. Try for me because I love you and thought of losing forever is too painful-“ he was caught off at the train whistle, blaring in their ears as the train came closer and closer…
Mickey stumbled back, tripping over the rail and tugging Ian down with as the train passed by, making the ground beneath rumble. It wasn’t until the train had left completely that he noticed the rumbling still going on. It almost seemed impossible for Ian to cry any harder. Hut he was, trembling like a hurricane rolling through as Mickey cradled him into his chest.
He sighed heavily, letting go of a breath he wasn’t even aware he was holding. His hold on Ian tightened as he held on to the life that almost flashed before his eyes, the second between Ian still being alive and him being gone forever. It was a second that Mickey would cherish. He took moments, a few handful of cherished seconds as he tried to gather himself; enough was enough and he didn’t want to go through this again. It was one thing putting himself in front of a gun, but when Ian was right behind him, it would all be futile.
Mickey never told Ian where they were going once they got in the car, he just started driving. He’d fallen asleep to the feel of the summer wind on his face as they raced through the winding back road. It didn’t do much to help his headache, but it still felt nice.
He woke up when he felt the car stopped. Opening his eyes, he expected to see his neighborhood, but he was welcomed to a building- a massive one.
“Are we at the hospital?” Ian’s voice croaked as he asked.
Mickey’s face was set in stone and eyes bloodshot as he nodded. He got out of the car and Ian followed, not noticing until they got to the entrance what section of the hospital they were at.
“The psychiatric ward?” Ian read the sign of the fancy name for this part of the hospital. “Mickey…” Ian began to protest.
“Don’t.” He opened the door, gesturing for Ian to go before him.
They’d gone through a process: filling out paperwork and waiting for someone to call on him. That part didn’t take long, thankfully, because Mickey wasn’t sure how long he’d could without bursting. But as soon as he was in the room, Ian’s family came, worried expressions. He’d texted Fiona on the way to the hospital.
“Hey,” Fiona greeted, eyes wide with worry. “How’s he doing?”
He only shrugged, not trusting his ability to talk at this moment. He looked away from her concerned face, laying his sight on an unidentified blond with them. She was pretty young, but obviously older than the rest. She could have been old enough to be their mother…
“Why the fuck did you leave him out there?!” he heard himself exclaim, already making his way toward the woman. Before he could get too close, he felt someone holding him back- Lip.
“Hey, hey, easy,” Lip said, struggling to keep the enraged Mickey contained. For someone small, he was pretty damn strong. “We already talked to her. She was high off her ass. She almost crashed a few times on her way to us.”
“I don’t give a fuck what you talked about with her. Ian almost killed himself! I almost lost him for good!” he was speaking too much, letting out too much emotion, and he was on the brink of crying again. He’d cried so much that day- too much for his liking. He’d cried on the way to the hospital, battling with himself on whether or not to actually take him there.
“Let’s just calm down for a second,” Fiona piped up, getting in front Mickey’s path to Monica. “We were trying to tell you this before,” she reminded him. “If he’d been hospitalized when we found out, he wouldn’t have gotten to this point.”
Mickey didn’t know what to say. He wanted to shout back, forget the fact that he would be bawling in front of people he could barely stand. But he wanted to agree with her. It was his fault. He’d been too stubborn- too selfish- to let Ian get the proper help he deserved. He wanted to do so many things at that moment.
“Mr. Milkovich,” the nurse called to him. “I’d like to speak with you for a second.”
Lip let go so he could walk to the nurse, but Fiona was in front of him in a second. “I’m Ian’s sister,” she informed. “Is it ok if I go back to see him?”
The nurse looked between Fiona and Mickey, contemplating, before she replied. “I’m sorry, but since this man was the one to bring him here, I have to confide with him before anyone else. After we’re done discussing the matters of Ian, I’ll come back for you.”
Mickey began to walk with the nurse, looking back in enough time to see a look in Fiona’s face that he’d seen before: some type of realization that hit her hard.
This is exactly what he didn’t want to see: to see Ian in a well lit room- a room made to see every thing that could possibly wrong with you. Here he was, and knew what the verdict would be before the doctor started talking.
“So, Mr. Milkovich,” the doctor started, “it seems as though Ian and you have been aware of his Bipolar Disorder.” He could hear the accusation and question in the doctor’s voice.
“His mother has it, so we thought we could manage it on our own.” He looked at Ian, who had his head down. “We know now that was a mistake.”
The doctor nodded. “Well, we do want to keep him for a few days, just to make sure we can find him the right medication to stabilize his moods. That usually doesn’t take too long, but to start seeing a difference takes time. So, we’re going to keep him for a full 30 days…” he trailed off, noticing Mickey’s expression. “You’d be able to visit him every day, from 2pm-4pm.”
Mickey nodded, trying to get with the only optimistic side to all this.
“I’ll get a few things settled for Ian, here. And if there’s any family out there, I can have the nurse send them in.”
He nodded again as the doctor stood up. He held out his hand to shake Mickey’s, and he almost pulled it away when all Mickey did was stare at the seemingly foreign gesture, but at the last moment Mickey grabbed hold, giving him a firm shake.
The nurse stood at the door, about to ask if she should bring the rest back, when Mickey said, “Give us a few minutes.” She nodded, closing the door, leaving Ian and Mickey in the room, sitting their quietly.
“I didn’t wanna bring you here,” Mickey says, initiating the conversation. When Ian doesn’t reply, he goes on. “I never wanted to bring you here. I was scared of what they’d do, you know. What if they decided they’d keep you here forever? That’d…that would…”he couldn’t finish, the word cutting him off like the feeling it gave Mickey.
“So you meant what you said?” Ian’s voice was low like a whisper. “At the tracks?”
Mickey scooted his chair over so that their knees knocked together. “I meant what I said, Ian. It was absolute shit with you not here, and you were still alive. And you were supposed to be back in four years- that was too long. I know there was a time where I could pretend but I can’t now. I don’t know why…I just can’t. And we’ve been through too much, man…” he tried to sniff back the tears, to shove them back down his throat, but the way Ian looked up to him, he couldn’t hold back. Fuck, he was crying again. But it was ok with Ian. “I love you and it makes me do stupid shit, like get shot twice and get thrown into juvie twice.” He breathes out a laugh at Ian’s small smile. It’s progress and he never thought he’d be so into progress but with Ian, he was into a lot of things. He grabbed the back of Ian’s neck, pulling their faces closer together so he his words could pass between them and not float out into the atmosphere. Foreheads rested together, Mickey cried harder with every word he whispered. “But I do even crazier shit when you’re not here. You keep me grounded and sane when everything turns to madness and shit and the next 30 days are gonna drag massive balls because two hours a day…” he clamped his hand tighter to Ian, not wanting to let go now or forever.
“I love you, too.” Mickey barely hears it, but it cuts deep; cuts right through his sobs, right through his thick, scarred skin, and settles into the core of his heart and he feels it expand painfully in his chest. The words were supposed to calm him, reassure him, but he struggles to hold back the flood, failing as Ian tries to wipe away tear after endless tear. “I’m willing to try, Mickey. Anything for you.”
Mickey meets Ian’s gaze then, seeing the green as a blurry haze. He nods. “Yeah, anything for you,” he promises.