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Summary
-Svetlana paid me to come-
The words scorch down Mickey's throat and twist his stomach like acid, but they only hurt half as much as Ian’s muttered lie about 'waiting'.
-Fuck you, Gallagher-
Mickey didn’t plan to write Ian a letter but it happens anyway, an angry scribbled mess of all the ways he hadn’t known Ian fucking Gallagher would break his heart. He shoves it in the prison mailbox, breaks the pen to pieces, and walks away without a second glance.
-Fuck you, Gallagher-
Mickey didn’t plan to write a letter--but he can't help feeling hopeful when Ian writes him back.
Sometimes truth is easier written than spoken, things that can’t be said through a dividing glass easier to whisper into smuggled cellphones and read in furtive texts when guards aren’t looking.
Sometimes free means admitting to hurt and betrayal while wishing for love, and sometimes free means breaking from behind bars to say those things face to face.
This is Mickey and Ian’s story: Scattered letters and secret calls, angry conversations and whispered confessions, and the journey to find themselves, each other, and somehow finally...
... freedom.