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“What are you so fucking mopey about?” Carl asked, entering the Gallagher kitchen. His older brother was sitting by the kitchen island, seemingly staring into nothing. The only part of his body seemingly moving was his fingers, slightly tugging at a hangnail or something. A small strand of red hair was hanging down over his forehead, making him look tired in the way that he did in the mornings, despite the fact that it was currently four in the afternoon.
Carl opened the refrigerator door, getting himself a bottle of orange juice, screwing the lid off and throwing it into the sink before he turned around, leaning against the cold, white surface.
“Thought you had a date with your boyfriend or some shit” The younger Gallagher boy continued when he didn’t get a reaction. Ian swallowed, nodding as he let his gaze drop to his hands.
“Yeah, I um… I cancelled” He spoke, voice rough. After a second or two, he looked up, meeting his little brother’s eyes. “I ask you something?”
Carl did nothing but shrug as he took a large gulp of the yellow liquid, feeling it pour down into his throat.
“Mickey’s out… Right, and he came by the alibi a few days back” Carl’s eyebrows traveled further up his forehead in surprise as he nodded, giving Ian a sign that he understood, and for him to keep talking. “He said that… Ah, fuck it. It’s not important what he said. The point is that it made me realize that maybe I made a mistake dumping his ass, but now he won’t talk to me. I don’t really understand why. I know some of the things I did were crappy, but he’s being kind of an asshole not taking my calls, you know? I at least deserve a conversation” Ian ranted. “What do you think?” He asked then, swallowing.
“You deserve nothing” Carl spoke truthfully, and Ian raised his eyebrows in surprise, wondering whether he had heard him right.
“Excuse me?” His little brother swallowed, fighting to stay calm. The truth was that once in a while he wondered whether he actually liked Mickey Milkovich better than his own older brother. Mickey was cool, he liked guns, and he actually talked to Carl as if he was an adult, but still on his level somehow. Nothing had ever been weird with Mickey, they were buddies, sort of. Had been back when he and Ian had been together, at least. Carl obviously hadn’t seen the man in quite a few months now.
“I said you fucking deserve nothing” He repeated, placing the plastic bottle of orange juice down onto the kitchen counter as he walked a few steps closer towards his brother. “Think of it like this, bro - You cheat, you lie, you put Mickey through all hell and god fucking knows what else” Carl did his best to keep his voice leveled, but he was starting to fail as it started growing louder without him really intending it to. “Mickey fucking took care of you, did everything. Loved you - however that was possible. Then you dump him, and now you’re here, saying that he owes you something” Ian’s little brother snapped the light on inside of his head. “You don’t deserve shit”
With those words, Carl was out of the kitchen, leaving Ian to beat himself up even more than before.
Ian took a deep breath, looking up at the rundown, almost seemingly abandoned apartment building. It had taken him almost three whole days to find the current residence of Mickey Milkovich. His brothers and Svetlana hadn’t been very friendly to Ian, in fact they had been nasty enough that he had gotten goosebumps, and not the good kind.
Alas, now he was here, and he forced himself to take three deep breaths before he started walking up the skinny staircase. It rassled under his feet, making him wonder whether his weight would break it. After surely about twenty five - surprisingly scary - steps, he was standing in front of the metal door of the red brick building. His right fist hit the surface three times, then he let his arm drop to his side as he waited.
The truth was that Ian wasn’t all too sure about what he was going to say when he came face to face with the person who haunted his dreams and his nightmares, but he knew that he had to talk to him. Try to get him to see things from his own point of view. At least once.
Mickey sighed deeply, running a hand over his tired face as he walked through the old run down apartment towards the front door. He wasn’t sure who the fuck wanted him, but they didn’t seem to give up. He started to grumble about them waking him up, but then again, he realized that most people probably didn’t sleep in until eight pm.
“I’m fucking coming” Mickey sighed, finally swinging the thick metal door open, eyes focusing on green. Ian Gallagher was standing outside of his door, hair a complete mess, eyes looking slightly red as if he had been crying or something. His hands were buried deep into his pockets, and two years ago, Mickey probably would have found the entire sight as a whole something close to cute. Now, though, he was honestly just confused.
When Mickey had gone to the alibi that day, he had literally had no motives other than to give himself some kind of closure. He hadn’t wanted to drag Ian back into his life - in fact, if Ian was happy with that new guy whatshisface, then Mickey was happy for him. Not a single word that he had spoken in that booth had been a lie, and he had truly wished for that to be the end of them. The end to all of it.
Yet here Ian was, not even a week later.
“Look, before you say anything…” He spoke. Mickey’s lips had been slightly parted, getting ready to do just that, but now he closed them, raising his eyebrows in await. “What you said the other day, Mick. I… I know what a fucking asshole I was when we were together, alright? I do. But what you said made me realize that, it made me see how fucking amazing you were. I know now how much I love you, and how much I don’t want anybody else, not ever!” Ian ranted, pretty sure that he was stumbling over his words and repeating things, but he didn’t care. He needed to get this out. “Look, I get if it will take some time for you to get over everything, alright? But please, baby…” Ian’s fragile voice finally cracked. “Please, baby” He repeated. “Just try. Give me… a chance, just try”
The entire time that Ian spoke, his head was tilted slightly to the side, a small, peaceful smile covering his lips. When Ian finally finished, he was out of breath, eyes full of desperation as he awaited his ex’s reaction. Mickey didn’t slam the door in his face, though, and he didn’t start crying, whispering ‘Yes, yes, yes’; those were the two reactions that Ian had found possible, and neither seemed to be happening.
“You what, Gallagher?” He got instead, the smile never falling off of Mickey’s lips. “The past year… It’s been fucking crazy for me, alright? It’s been a long one” Mickey spoke, sounding very confident and sure of himself - sure in what he was saying. “But it’s made me realize that Ian Gallagher isn’t all there is to me. I am who I am, man. I’m my own fucking person. Without you. Since I got out… I’m not a copy of pops or my brothers, and I’m not your boyfriend. I’m… me.” Mickey stated with a small, soft chuckle. “And I’m happy” He nodded.
Ian frowned, trying to figure out exactly where his ex boyfriend was going with all of this.
“I meant what I said, Ian. I’m done - with all of it. You know, you’re standing here… crying” Mickey continued, seeing the one tear roll down Ian’s pale cheek. “After everything. And for the first time… I don’t give a single fuck” He stated, his sound somewhere in between a sigh and a chuckle, truly revealing his relief. The small smile was still stuck on his lips, and Ian’s were parted, eyebrows furrowed. He was getting ready to say something back, but was cut off instead.
“Mick?” A voice rang through the apartment, reaching Ian’s ears in the doorway. “Baby, are you coming back to bed?”
Mickey could all but physically see Ian’s throat snurp shut as the words registered with him, his head most likely spinning in confusion. He swallowed, tilting his head slightly to the side as Ian ran a hand over his own chin.
“That’s not to say that you don’t deserve to be happy or at peace, man. You do. You’ve been through a lot of shit, just like me. So… if that guy makes you happy, that Caleb guy or whatever, then go for it”
Mickey shrugged, feeling - if at all possible - even more at peace than he had that day in the alibi. He wasn’t angry, he didn’t hold a grudge whatsoever. He was just… done. That was the only possible way to describe the feeling that had been settling in his body for the past few weeks. Done, at peace. With all of it. Ian seemed to be completely stunned into silence, lips still parted in shock - at the person in Mickey’s bed, at Mickey’s passive aggressive reaction to his begging, all of it. So Mickey swallowed, his tongue darting out to wet his dry lips.
“I want you to be happy, man” He repeated. “It’s just not gonna be with me” With one last, peaceful smile sent Ian’s way; Mickey backed up into the apartment, closing the door on their story.