Work Text:
Like a Flame
When Mickey got the call a part of him already knew. He knew as soon as the first person, their own father, raised their fist on his sister that she was a candle. A candle just like her mother before her.
Being a candle is good in a way. It brings light and warmth to the world, but it can also burn you and destroy the world around it when miss handled. That’s all okay though. The problem with candles, Mickey mused painfully, is that they are often stamped out by others.
When Mickey closed his eyes he could imagine his sister, a bright and burning candle, burning the fists of her abusers, but not enough for them/him to not stamp her out. Wax is weak when burning only having the flame to protect it, but sometimes the flame isn’t enough.
Mickey can still see the pictures of her abuser’s hands (at least he got 10 in the pen) and if he looks close enough the bloodily red splotches from where his fists hit Mandy over and over again kind of look like burns. Mickey knows his sister didn’t go down without leaving at least a few.
Now his candle of a sister is coming back to him as ashes as all fires do one day.
To Mickey everyone is some kind of fire. His father was a heater, but one that was wired wrong. What should have provided warmth instead burnt those around them. What could have provided safety instead instilled fear instead.
Mickey thinks his brothers are those mini bic lighters they burn, but not for very long and not all that bright.
But Mickey, he is a kind of lighter too one that is metal, has some dents, but can be refilled and burns oh so bright. He’s a zippo lighter. When he was a kid he was refilled little by little by his mother’s love, then hatred of his father, and now the love he receives from his husband.
Ian, oh, Ian is a type of zippo too. One that can create warmth and safety, but also burn the world down. Together they burn without ever burning each other out.
Mickey’s fingers hover over the put in cart on the Zippo website. Two lighter; one for him, a simple black with orange letters with a simpler Mickey, the other, a orange with fancy inlay reading Ian. He wants to put something about burning, being together, and the fires of those around him, but the words never come. He hits purchase.
While he lights his cigarette, his new lighter in hand, (he can see Ian’s in his back pocket and a warmth floods his chest) (not to be gay), he thinks about Ian’s family.
Fiona was a lighter too, one of those bic ones that never seem to die. Mickey had a pink one that was once Mandy’s when she was 14, it still works. Fiona is one of those. You can refill them, but hardly ever do. They seem disposable until you need that little bit of light and warmth. Hopefully, he muses a little more, she found someone/something/somewhere that refills her.
Lip is a box of matches. He burns through himself so quickly only to find a new part of himself behind the box. Lip, the smart one (gone), the alcoholic (gone), the college kid (gone), the lover (gone), Lip the father (still burning).
Ash falls from Mickey’s cigarette but his mind is still stuck in the fire.
Debbie, is one of those novelty lighters, kind of annoying, kind of fun. Here for a good time, but not a long time. These type of lighters don’t provide much warmth or light, but just enough that you think you need to keep it.
Carl is the fire in the fire place, he burns contained for now, but will spark up and can burn you. You need to feed it, be kind to it but it will provide you with the best warmth of your life. These type of fires have a job to do and they know that, but they are also the one you gather family with.
Liam, is an oil lantern, providing light and a comfort in the darkest of times. He is the one you don’t know you need until it’s almost too late. He’s an old soul in his own way too.
Franny and Fred are just sparks. Mickey hopes they turn into good fires ones that will be protected and nurtured so they don’t have to burn those around them. He almost prays to a god he doesn’t believe in (one that doesn’t believe in him either) that they aren’t snuffed out by another’s fists.
Mickey pulls he gaze down on to his hands as he flicks his lighter open. He’s face faintly forms a snarled.
Monica is a fire cracker. Something that isn’t here for long, but can create a lasting burn. She burned bright for only a few moments let off some sparks; her kids.
Finally, Frank. Frank was a wildfire something dangerous. He burnt all that was in his path and would burn anyone who came to close. Mickey flicked his cigarette. The only good thing about wildfires is when they finally die out they leave room for new growth. Wildfires are essential in the ecosystem for when the old is washed away only then can the new come.
Mickey finally puts his sights on the laughing Gallagher family and knew the time for new growth had begun. Part of him was thankful for the sparks their parent’s harmful fires had let off, but another hated the burns he saw on them all.
He pulled his gaze away from his husbands bright burning one as one tear rolled down his face, not nearly enough to snuff out his flame, as he thought of the bright flame his sister should have still bee