Chapter Text
Fall had just started, but winter felt closer than ever, so did the cold and unforgiving weather that came with it. The heater wasn’t broken, they weren’t living in the slums anymore and could afford to be warm in the winter. Mickey was still cold though— his body temperature definitely below average. He turned his head to find the other side of the bed vacant, Ian must’ve already left for his run. Touching it with his hand it felt warm, southing him a little.
As the covers left his body he started shivering— his bare feet touching the chilly wooden panels below. Mickey quickly made his way to the en-suite bathroom and emptied his full bladder before walking over to the sink. The mirror was still foggy from Ian’s morning shower and the condensation on the walls was only just starting to evaporate. Fuck, he looked like shit. Even that was an understatement. The bags under his eyes grew larger than he’d ever seen them, and his eyes held no life within them. The once vibrant baby blue turning into something murky and glossy. He felt so gross and dirty— which he was.. on the outside anyway. His reflection started back at him lazily and wait- was his hair starting to turn gray? Just as he took a step forward to check, something suddenly moved in his peripheral vision. He quickly braced himself and turned around but to no avail, there was nothing there. Still as he turned back around he can swear he saw something, or rather someone, staring back at him.
Stepping out of the bathroom he instead stepped on to the balcony, though not before wrapping himself up in the blanket that was hazardously thrown over the top of one of their arm chairs. It was really fucking cold outside, but Ian has caught him trying to smoke inside one too many times- he couldn’t afford to have another argument about that. The box was nearly empty, yet he took a cigarette out and lit up, struggling due to the heavy, chilly wind which kept blowing the flame out. The fire finally calmed down and stayed on the tip of his cigarette. Looking down from the balcony he caught himself people watching. Their balcony sat directly above their apartments pool, even in the cold weather and early time of day people could be seen enjoying the water. The sky was dull and the clouds were slowly approaching each other making the sky barely visible and the atmosphere much darker. The west side was much different than where they grew up, yet it was still similar in some ways. Inhaling the last of the smoke, the ashtray connected with the finished cigarette butt.
The man slowly approached the couch and sat down, ready to go back to sleep. He knew he should probably shower– or eat something– it’s been days, if not already a week since he’s last washed himself. Strands of hair were barely distinguishable anymore as his head was now covered in a mess of grease and old gel. His appetite wasn’t gone— not even close, but Mickey couldn’t bring himself to eat.
Ian was still on top of his everyday morning runs and bi-weekly trips to their apartments gym, while Mickey hasn’t been out of the house to do anything other than work in what felt like years. He felt gross, and the muscle on his body was starting to disappear due to poor maintenance. Even just getting up in the morning felt like lifting 100lbs of force— he couldn’t imagine what actually lifting 100lb at the gym would do to him. And so he didn’t eat, if he wasn’t going to exercise he could at least not pig himself out anymore. He’d been skipping meals here and there blaming it on his upset stomach, but Ian was bound to notice— he had to take the opportunity and only eat if Ian was around to see. Though even then he felt ashamed. He’s really let himself go.
As he lay there motionless trying to fall asleep, his thoughts were going 100mph. The past couple months have been rocky to say the least. It’s not that he was unhappy with his life, it was quite the opposite— he’s never been happier. Ever since they got married last year, things just kept looking up. Obviously, they had the occasional big fight that would send either one of them couch surfing at multiple Gallagher siblings places for a few days; but that was just married life. In the end they always found each other again and made up. Now.. whether that was by a fist fight, sex, or an actual conversation, varied quite a lot, but the end result was all the same.
But something was wrong. The day his father died kind of set something off deep within him. It was weird— he obviously wasn’t sad about Terry’s death. Still, the day he died must of been one of the worst ones he’s had in a while. Mickey found himself uncontrollably crying from the second they got back to the Gallagher house. It was strange, he never really cried, and even when he did it was maybe one or two tears that ended up falling. Understandably, Ian was concerned. Not even just concerned but he was irritated, irritated at Mickey for crying over his evil father’s death. The blame ended up being on the fact that he wasn’t able to kill him himself; which wasn’t wrong, just not quite correct. Because he was upset about that, but deep down he knew it wasn’t the reason for his tears.
Life moved on though, as always. He soon forgot about it— as much as one could anyway. The nightmares never stopped though, neither did the panic attacks he’d wake up with on particularly bad days. He got irritable, he barely had any sleep anymore— nightmares for one, but he was scared of falling asleep and waking Ian up with a panic attack. Mickey didn’t want him to worry, he was fine.
They were starting to fight more often because of his new found irritability; even the smallest things began to set him off. And best believe Ian was livid– how dare Mickey get pissed off at him when he’s the one leaving shit everywhere and not cleaning up after himself. Not only that but they barely even had sex anymore.. Now, he thought they’d just finally got out of their honeymoon period, or you know.. were having a dry spell— but it’s been weeks. And Mickey.. he can’t explain it. He doesn’t have the energy for it, nor the want either and every time he thinks about it there’s a sense of disgust that crawls up through him. Everything is messed up and fucked recently. He doesn’t feel like himself. Logically he should be overjoyed, they were finally together and married, living alone and employed— a steady income. However, he couldn’t be any fucking further from overjoyed. Mickey felt as if he was in a never ending state of panic, worry and fatigue. He felt stuck, and useless; Ian was constantly doing new things, improving himself, starting new hobbies, he was even planning on going back to school to potentially get another job in healthcare. And what was Mickey doing? Barely hanging on.