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Soft exhales escaped Ian’s nose every now and then, his temple leaned into his open hand, elbow placed on the armrest of the Gallagher couch as he followed whatever meaningless comedy show was currently playing on the television screen. His boyfriend was sitting on the other end of the furniture, scrolling through one of his stolen phones, knees pulled up almost all the way to his chest. As much as Ian fought against it, soon enough he couldn’t really fight turning his head anymore.
His gaze focused on Mickey’s eyelids, and he felt his throat grow a little bit tighter. Almost three weeks after the initial breakup, Ian had finally managed to convince Mickey to take him back. He had slaved for almost two weeks, trying to figure out a way to win him back. In the end, he had been on his knees - literally begging - with tears pouring down his cheeks, and the older man had cracked. They had kissed that day, and as happy as Ian had been that night and a few days afterwards, lately he had started to notice something wasn’t quite the way that it usually was with them.
Like now for example.
Ian and Mickey were completely alone in the Gallagher house, and the night was ever so slightly starting to fall outside of the windows. Yet, they were on the couch watching television. A year ago they would have already fucked three, or maybe even four times. It wasn’t that they hadn’t fucked since they had gotten back together - they were Ian and Mickey, of course they had. But for some reason, Ian felt as if Mickey wasn’t quite as much ‘there’ as he had been in the past.
Random affection was another thing that Ian felt as if they were lacking. He remembered a few times a year or so back when they had been alone in either the Gallagher or the Milkovich house in this way, and they would always be touching in some way. Maybe Mickey would have his feet in Ian’s lap, or maybe Ian would lay his head in Mickey’s. Maybe they would hold hands, or maybe Mickey would just be sitting in Ian’s lap. Somehow they always used to touch at random moments, especially when they were alone. It was as if they just hadn’t been able to keep their hands off of one another.
But now - not only was Mickey not paying attention to Ian, but Ian felt as if he had a thick brick wall up in between them. And not just tonight; in one way or another, he had felt it be there ever since the moment he had broken up with him. And sure, in a way he couldn’t blame Mickey for it. He had been a terrible boyfriend to the man for a long time, even way before he had ended up dumping him. He just wished that Mickey would acknowledge it so that he in some sort of way could make it all better. Ian wanted them to be the way that they used to be, he just had no fucking clue how to make that happen at this point.
Because while he in a way was annoyed that Mickey was somehow shutting him out, he was also really fucking angry at himself for making them get to this point, so he wasn’t sure that he would be allowed to ask. Maybe he should just be patient and wait for Mickey to come back to him. Really come back to him.
Ian was somehow torn out of his daze when Mickey locked his phone and threw it down onto the couch, getting up without a word and heading out into the kitchen. The taller man swallowed, feeling his cheeks start to ache with the need to barf. They weren’t supposed to be this way, this wasn’t what ‘happily back together’ was supposed to look like; feel like.
Before he could overthink it too much, Ian was standing up as well, walking into the kitchen. Mickey was just closing the refrigerator door, his hand wrapped around a cold bottle of beer. A small, surprised gasp escaped his lips when he turned around, finding his boyfriend standing so much closer than what was really normal, closing him in and making him back up against the cold, white surface.
The truth was that Ian wasn’t all too sure about what he was doing, but he felt as if he had had enough with all of this. If Mickey had agreed to get back together, then he wanted them to be truly back together. He was so, so fucking sorry about what he had done, but he wasn’t quite sure how to express it. How to make Mickey truly believe it.
“What are you doing, man?” Mickey asked, eyebrows knitted into a frown. Ian swallowed. What was he doing? He had no fucking idea, he just wanted some kind of an answer as to what all of this was. His problem wasn’t with the fact that Mickey hadn’t quite forgiven him just yet - that was to be expected after all the shit he had put them through. No, his problem was with the fact that Mickey didn’t say anything about it. He hadn’t said ‘Heads up, Ian. It might take me a little while to trust you again’. Ian would have completely understood that, but instead Mickey just continued shutting him out, pretending as if nothing at all was wrong. Pretending as if everything was as it was supposed to be, even though they both knew that it wasn’t.
“What are we doing?” Ian heard himself ask. “You won’t talk to me, you won’t kiss me unless we’re fucking. When you said that you were going to give me a second chance, I thought that maybe… Fuck. Mickey - I know how fucking badly I hurt you, alright? I do - “
“No, you don’t” Mickey interrupted him, voice dark as he placed a flat palm against his chest, walking around him, leaning against the kitchen counter to create a little bit more space in between them. Ian’s brows knitted together as he waited for his boyfriend to elaborate. “Look, you… I know I’m not acting like I used to around you, man. I’m not a fucking idiot. It’s just…” He trailed off for a second, gaze shifting to the floor. Ian stayed completely silent, taking in every word. “I told you I loved you and you dumped my ass, man. It’s just… difficult to move on from that”
Ian swallowed, head moving slowly up and down. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t known that he had hurt Mickey - of course he did. It just hurt to hear it.
“I love you” Mickey sighed at the words, their eyes connecting again as he nodded. Mickey knew that Ian loved him, but that didn’t mean that forgiving him got any easier. “What can I do?”
Mickey’s shoulders were pulled up a little bit into some kind of a shrug, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. He supposed that he could say that Ian should give him more space, he could say that he should give him less space. He could say that they needed to go on more dates, or start talking more. But in the end, there was only one answer that would get them where they needed to go.
“Just um…” Mickey mumbled, eyebrows knitted together. “Just give me some time, alright?” Ian immediately nodded in agreement, thankful that Mickey had finally voiced his needs. Time. He could do that.
“However long you need”