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Mickey Milkovich was a cry baby.
He had always experienced his emotions stronger than any of the other Milkoviches, being raised in a very masculine environment had hardened all of his siblings. But not him. He felt that his fathers constant reinforcement of 'true' male strength had had the opposite effect on him, making him tear up at any occasion.
Which is how he found himself curled up outside his high school building, hugging his knees close to his chest, as he tried to surpress the sobs that threatened to explode out of his chest, eyes squeezed shut. He was completely alone. All the students and teachers had left a while ago and yet he was still too embarrassed to cry vocally, for fear that someone would walk past and hear him be weak.
Milkovich boys don't fucking cry his fathers words echoed throughout his head, Milkoviches are strong and don't show other fuckers their weaknesses. Mickey felt himself nodding along to the voice in his mind, softly tapping the brick exterior of the building he was leaning against on the back of his skull.
He had been concentrating so hard at the voice yelling in his head that he didn't notice another figure moving towards him. He also didn't notice when said figure slide down the brick wall to meet Mickey's still teary face. But he definitely felt the soft tap on his shoulder and heard the whispered question.
Mickey sat completely still, willing silently that this figure would leave him alone. But after a minute of silence, and no movement from the figure on his left he slowly opened his eyes and peaked at the stranger. "What did you say?"
The person was not a stranger to Mickey, but a face that he had pasted over a hundred times during his high school career.
"I asked are you okay?" Ian whispered a little louder with a concerned facial expression.
Ian Gallagher. A name and face Mickey knew well, along with the popular reputation.
"Uh-h well-um," Mickey stuttered, still trying to control the tears that were falling freely down his face, "I-I guess."
Ian smiled a little at Mickey's responce, "You guess you're okay with tears falling down your face?"
Mickey heard the playful tone in his voice. "I mean," he tried again, "I guess I'm not okay."
"Oh, I'm sorry," Ian replied, voice now thick with concern, "is there anything I can do?"
Mickey shook his head in responce. He was now freely crying on his school uniform after his last answer, now unable to control the sounds coming out of his mouth. He was to embarrassed to look at Ian right now, so he hid his face in his arms, imagining the same face of disgust that his father would show Mickey on Ian's face.
There was no other noises being exchanged behind the school building other than Mickeys loud, wet sobs being muffled slightly by his jumper sleeves. He expected that Ian would leave him to be the big cry baby that he was, no one would want to hang out with a boy who couldn't control their emotions. So he was surprised to feel an arm wrap around his shoulders and hold him tightly.
"You know it's okay to cry, right?" Mickey felt Ian's hot breath on the exposed part of his throat, "there's nothing wrong with showing emotion."
He continued to calm the crying boy down with helpful phrases and comforting words until Mickeys breathing was controlled and his face wasn't wet.
"Thank you," Mickey whispered in the air between the two boys.
"No worries," Ian replied nonchalantly, "always here if you need someone to talk -" he was cut off by a ringtone.
Mickey lifted his head from its resting position on his arms and watched Ian's furrowed eyebrows as he spoke into the phone. "Who was that?" He asked after Ian hung up.
"My boss, I'm late," Ian replied hastily, all his calming vibes gone, "I need to go." He stood quickly, grabbed his bag and exchanged a hand out to Mickey's hunched figure.
Mickey let Ian pull him up, "thanks again."
"Gimme your phone," Ian requested. Mickey quickly pulled his smartphone out of his pocket and gave it to Ian's outstreached hand. "I'm putting my number in," Ian explained as he quickly typed on Mickeys screen, "and if you need to talk, just call."
"Youre not fucking sick of me yet?" Mickey asked feeling closer to his usual tough guy persona than before.
"Nope," Ian grinned.
"Wanna hang out then? Tomorrow?"
"Sure, that sounds like fun!"
Mickey grimced back at Ian's enthusiasm, "okay we can hang at mine?"
"Sure, I'll meet you here after school?"
"Sounds good," Mickey replied.
"Okay well I have to go," Ian started to walk backwards, "but I will see you tomorrow, right here."
"Fucking better," Mickey threatened, but the smile forming on his lips broke his tough exteriour.