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He’s glad to be back home.
He feels more relaxed the moment he steps through the front door. The familiar smell of cigarettes filters through the air and he breathes it in before being mindlessly led to the lounge room.
He sits on the couch and stares back at the faces of his younger siblings. Liam is grinning at him, eager to see him and he tries to smile back. He’s not sure if he does but his face must do something because Liam grins even wider somehow.
He feels better than when he did at the hospital. Not as foggy but still out of it. They’d forced medication in him this morning and his body is reacting to it now. He wants to go to bed and lie down. Lip follows him upstairs and lets him lay down and sleep.
They tiptoe around him the rest of the day. Carl doesn’t even enter the room almost like he’s been banned from entering the room and disturbing him. He doesn’t actually sleep though, mind racing over a million things and nothing at all. He’s kinda staring at the wall with his eyes shut because he can’t be bothered opening them.
He wants Mickey here but Mickey chose the smart option to stay away.
The next day he wakes up with a dry mouth and the intense need to throw up everything in his stomach. Which ends up not being a lot but he staggers over to the bathroom and falls down in front of the toilet. He thanks every god he can think of no one was using the bathroom when he needed it because he definitely would not have made it downstairs when he feels like this.
He stands up, using the back of his hand to wipe his mouth and flushes the toilet. He steps over to the sink and turns it on, washing his hands thoroughly before cupping water in them and lowering his head to drink it. He swashes it around his mouth and spits it out, repeats it a few more times to get the taste of bile out before having a proper drink. He looks at his reflection in the mirror and fully registers what he looks like right now.
He looks rough to say the least. He tilts his head one way and then another, has he always been this pale? His hair is hanging over his forehead and when he tries to move it, it flops right back down to where it was before. There are bags under his eyes that stand out against his skin, it looks like he went hand to hand in a boxing ring and lost miserably.
The house is quiet and he discovers that most of the people in this household are out working or doing whatever they do to pass time during the day. He grabs a dressing gown that was discarded on the floor and slowly makes his way downstairs.
Debbie and Liam are sitting on the couch where she’s focused on her phone, texting some guy he doesn’t really know. There’s a cartoon playing on the TV to keep Liam entertained and neither of them hear Ian walk behind them to the kitchen.
He still feels like he’s in a weird haze. He runs his hands over the fridge, fingers catching at the notes hanging up on magnets and opens the fridge. He grabs the carton of orange juice with both hands because they’re still shaky and he feels weirdly weak and takes a few big gulps.
He turns around, still holding the orange juice and there they are. Sitting on the counter like they’re a fucking centrepiece at a fancy dinner. Three orange bottles. The fridge closes behind him as he walks over and he sits the orange juice down next to them. He’s not really paying attention to anything else, eyes glossing over each label.
IAN GALLAGHER
OLANZAPINE 15ML
TABLET
TAKE ONE PILL THREE TIMES
A DAY WITH FOOD
The other two are prescribed for Lithium and Aripiprazole.
It feels like a cruel joke, the fact he’s on three medications he has to take three times a day. Like it’s one big fuck you, as if being born wasn’t enough. He’s trying to control his breathing, kind of feels like screaming. He unscrews the cap of the Lithium and tips them out and then repeats with the other bottles. He gathers all the pills into his hands and stares at them. He could swallow them all. It’s an insane number of pills and it would be more than enough to do the job.
But he doesn’t.
Instead he cradles the pills and walks over to the downstairs toilet and dumps them in, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Debbie didn’t hear the splashes. He flushes the toilet, heads upstairs to change out of the dressing gown into his green shirt and zip up jacket and sits outside.
The lesbian neighbours are working on a community garden in the empty lot next door but he pays them no mind. He lights up a stray cigarette he found in his pocket and just sits and watches, occasionally making the smoke come out of his nose.
“Hey there” a woman's voice says “Ian, isn’t it? I remember that because that’s my therapists name and he’s a ginger too”
She pauses like she’s expecting Ian to greet her back and act like he gives a shit that she knows another red head. “Anyway” she shakes her head “I was wondering when you think you might be able to get to taking down this pool”
It takes him a moment to realise he’s supposed to reply to her.
“Well” he mutters around his cigarette, not bothering to take it out of his mouth or take his hands out of his pockets. He discovers it’s annoying talking like this so he does take the cigarette out. “I’m coming down off some heavy lithium right now. Maybe in an hour or two”
She’s clearly frustrated with his answer but replies with a quick “perfect”, a nod and then she leaves him alone.
Debbie’s screaming his name from the porch and he makes no move to face her as she rushes down the stairs. Just takes another puff of his cigarette.
“Oh my god, there you are” she looks frantic and out of breath.
“Here I am”
“Ian, what happened to all your pills?” she asks worriedly
“They’re gone” Ian blows out some smoke.
“Y-Yeah” Debbie stutters “I can see that they’re gone but gone where? Did you swallow them?”
“No” Ian looks her in the eyes this time. Debbie sighs in relief that at the very least he didn’t try to off himself. “They’re flushed”
“Why would you do that?” she asks with a confused look on her face. Like she can’t seem to grasp any idea that would make someone want to flush their medication that’s supposed to make them better.
“They make me feel awful, Debs” Ian sighs “Like life is not worth living”
He paces a few steps.
“I feel so much better just knowing they’re gone” he finishes up and walks away from her.
Debbie huffs in frustration before running back inside the house, no doubt trying to figure out a way to get his pills back. He ignores her and heads back to his perch near the pool.
There’s something so peaceful about the dead leaves floating on top of the water, only moving when the wind allows them too. He wants to be a dead leaf. He glances around to make sure Debbie had gone back inside and then looked over to the lesbians to see if they were minding their own business. They were so he climbed the ladder, turned around and crouched down and gently lowered his body into the old water. It was cold and his first reaction was to immediately stand up and get out but he didn’t. He closed his eyes, spread his arms out and floated amongst the leaves.
Carl comes into the backyard later on and starts digging around the junk littered under the stairs. He finds what he’s searching for and climbs back up the stairs and tosses something into the water. Ian opens his eyes and slowly turns his head towards the splash and finds a toaster floating nearby.
“Are you trying to give me shock therapy?” he asks, voice louder than earlier and the fog lifting from his mind,
“Supposed to be good for you” Carl responds like it’s obvious.
“You need to plug it in first” Ian says, closing his eyes again and facing the sky.
Carl leaves him to it and then he’s letting the relaxing movement of the water keep him at bay. Eventually, he climbs out of the pool and sits down in a lounge chair and stares off into space. Fiona comes home from work, walks towards him with her arms crossed.
“Flushed your pills?” she asks. It’s a rhetorical question. “You get that that’s a full on Monica move, right?”
Ian huffs and closes his eyes. He knew this was coming and he has been dreading it.
“I’m not Monica” he says, not looking Fiona in the eyes.
“Come on, let’s go to the clinic, let’s get your new prescription” she tries to persuade him. Making it seem like a trip to the clinic is a fine outing.
“No”
Fiona starts a spiel about how Debbie thinks it’s her fault and Ian’s sick of it.
“Now you’re trying to manipulate me” Ian smiles slyly, it’s not really a smile at all but he can feel his mouth twitch. “Like we used to do with Monica. I’m not Monica”
Ian can feel his temper slowly rising.
“I’m not Monica” he repeats “I didn’t slash my wrists over thanksgiving dinner. I went for a drive”
“You took a baby”
“I took him” Ian’s voice raises and he’s leaning up out of his chair. He takes a deep breath and calms himself down before continuing. “For a drive and yeah, I guess it was a really long drive and I didn’t plan ahead but I did not hurt that baby. I took care of the baby, I fed the baby, I sang to the baby. I love that baby”
Ian’s voice is shaking when he finishes up. He doesn’t feel like crying but his voice shakes the same way. Maybe now he can think back at his actions and see that things could have gone wrong but they didn’t. He doesn’t understand why people aren’t focusing on the things that happened and are choosing to focus on scenarios that didn’t happen.
“I get why everyone’s freaking out but I mean, you pulled some pretty serious shit not too long ago and everyone didn’t try to turn on you and permanently medicate you”
“I went to jail” she’s saying it like he’s Liam’s age. Like he needs it to be dumbed down for him.
“So did I” Ian replies “Now I’m out. I’m not Monica anymore than you are”
Fiona leaves him alone after that, he hears her slam the backdoor in frustration and Ian feels some sort of sick satisfaction that he’s won this argument. She hears her leave with Liam and he stays out here for a little bit longer. He goes back in the house when he’s dry and hauls his tired body up the stairs and into his room. He changes into a tank top and then climbs back into his bed and resumes the position of facing the wall until he falls asleep.
The sound of the door opening and someone walking into his room wakes him up hours later. He opens his eyes but doesn’t make any move to look at who’s walked in.
“Hey” a voice startles him out of his thoughtless thoughts.
He jumps slightly and glances over his shoulder to see Mickey standing near the doorway. He rolls over fully to see if it’s really him or his mind is playing tricks on him.
“Sorry I’m late” Mickey says softly, like speaking too loud will break whatever is going on between them right now.
Ian’s still in disbelief, leaning up on one elbow and lowers himself back down and shuffles over a little bit. Mickey’s got a black eye that looks pretty fresh and a cut on his cheek and he briefly wonders what on earth Mickey has been up to. He doesn’t think long because Mickey is taking his jacket off and crawling into bed with him. He feels like a weight has been lifted off of his shoulders as Mickey settles down next to him.
He doesn’t remember the last time they were this gentle with one another. It’s different and not what they’re usually like but it’s perfect. Mickey is perfect.
Mickey’s on his side and brings up his hand to caress Ian’s face and gives him a soft smile. Ian’s quiet the whole time, scared if he even breathes too loudly it will scare Mickey away. Mickey kisses his forehead and nudges Ian’s nose gently with his own and then fully lies down next to him, making sure they’re hands are conjoined and Ian can hear his breathing.
They lie like that for what seems like hours but is probably only a few minutes. Ian can feel Mickey’s soft breath on his neck and he clutches his hand tighter, Mickey returning the same tightness.
Ian doesn’t think they’ve ever been this intimate, they’ve fucked countless times and kiss each other. They’ve made out with no intention of it leading to sex and they’ve actually cuddled like, three times now. But this feels different. Maybe it’s the way he can feel Mickey’s eyelashes against his skin or the fact that he’s just here, lying with him in a too small bed.
“You said you’d never leave” Ian’s voice cracks “You weren’t there”
“I was scared” Mickey says quietly, sniffs softly “I don’t know what to do”
“I’m scared too”
“I don’t think I could ever leave you” MIckey confesses. He sighs and presses a feather light kiss onto Ians neck. “You’re under my skin”