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Ian sat, leaning against the window while the rain came down. It was a miserable day, Ian laughed sadly. It was quite ironic that the weather matched his mood today. Grey and miserable. Ian wasn’t low like his family thought, no. This sadness wasn’t brought on by his Bi-polar. It was brought on by the only person who could make him feel like this, Mickey Milkovich.
He had honestly just had enough. Mickey was playing these stupid ridiculous games with him, being all hot and cold, and Ian didn’t know how much more of it he could take. He was still trying to deal with the recent diagnosis of his Bi-polar, his family walking on egg shells around him, asking him one hundred times a day if he was “Okay”, what ever the fuck that meant these days, trying to keep his pills hidden from Frank but not hidden enough that he forgot to take them, and now Mickey had disappeared. Again.
Ian’s life was going to shit. Ian felt so empty. He knew he wasn’t perfect. Ian has crossed his fingers when he said his last goodbye hoping it wasn’t all just a lie. Did Mickey still love him? Still need him? Ian wasn’t sure where he belonged at the moment. It felt like Mickey was moving on and Ian was still stuck in the moment.
Ian didn’t know how long he had been sitting by the window because he got lost in the moments that they both used to know so well. The smell of pot reminding him of some of their better times, when things were easier than they were now. Ian never planned this. Never planned to wake up on his own. Never planned to fall in love. There was a vacant space in his heart that he knew belonged with Mickey. Mickey felt like home, well, he used to. Now? Now he felt like a stranger.
How was Ian supposed to lay his love for Mick to rest? For all he knew, Mickey was still holding on. But for now, he would continue to sit by the window smoking his cigarette and think back on their time together. Ian needed a drink. He stood up slowly, his knees cracking from being in the one spot for so long. Fuck his back hurt. He bent over the stretch it out just as the door opened. Ian reached down and touched his toes.
“Fucking giant.” He heard Mickey's voice in his head and couldn’t help the sad smile the crept on his face at just the thought of the look on Mickey’s face if he saw Ian stretching. Ian knew Mick couldn’t reach his toes, flexible as fuck in bed, but that was about it. He sighed as he felt his back cracking.
“Not even going to acknowledge me now fire crotch?” Ian stood up so quickly he grimaced at the pain that shot up his back. There, standing in his bedroom door was Mickey and Jesus fuck he had never looked so good. Hair a mess, the dirty jeans hanging low on his hips, muscle sleeve shirt tight that stuck to him like a second skin and made Ian drool every time he wore it. Fuck he even smelled good, like pure Mickey. But Ian’s smile quickly fell off his face.
“What the fuck Mick?”
“What?” Mickey gave him his tongue in cheek smile, the one Ian always wanted to kiss off his face, but he had to stay strong today. Had to know where the fuck Micky has been.
“Don’t what me fuckhead. Where the actual fuck have you been?!”
“Around.” Another smirk. Ian threw his hands up in the air and tried to push Mickey out of the doorway so he could leave with little success. Mickey grabbed him around the waist and Ian saw red. He was so angry, frustrated and overall tired. Without thinking he started hitting Mick wherever he could get him.
“Woah, Calm down there army!” Mickey grabbed Ian’s hands and held them above Ian’s head, and Ian cringed when he realised his face was wet with tears. Ian felt so tired. He absolutely hated anyone seeing him cry, let alone Mickey.
Mickey's hand reluctantly let go of one of Ian’s hands and cradled his face which of course, made Ian cry more. Next minute Mickey wrapped his arms around him cautiously, as if afraid of what Ian would do next. Ian felt more than heard Mickey take a big breath in. Ian could tell Mickey was scared, of what he wasn’t sure, and that worried Ian a little. For the life of him though he couldn’t stop crying. Mickey’s arms felt like home and he never wanted to leave, but he had to. Just as Ian went to pull back he felt Mickey take another breath as if gearing himself up for something big, something that would probably change his life. Ian held his breath, thinking the worst. This was it. This was Mickey breaking up with him.
“I love you.” Mickey whispered in his ear. Ian jerked back in shock completely unsure if he had heard him correctly. The look on Mickey's face was pure fear, his thumb was near his lip doing that cute thing he did when he was feeling vulnerable. Ian absolutely loved when he did it because it showed that Mickey trusted Ian.
“What?” Ian asked dumbly, looking for confirmation.
“You fucking heard me,” Mickey replied with a small smile. “Said it once, ain’t saying shit again. Took me weeks to get the courage to say it once.”
And suddenly, the pieces fell into place. Mickey hadn’t found someone else, he was just coming to terms with whatever the fuck it was Ian and him were doing.
Ian leant in and finally kissed Mickey with everything he had. Ian was home, and even though he had a long fight ahead of him personally, he knew he could rely on Mickey to be beside him through it all. Ian pulled back from the kiss and held Mickey's face in his hands, staring straight into his eyes.
“I love you too.”
Ian smiled slightly and looked past Mickey's shoulder to the window where the sun was shining, peeking through the clouds. Oh the irony.