Chapter Text
Mickey is sitting in one of his abandoned buildings. The buildings that had come to be not only his, but Ian’s as well. Fuck, he misses Ian. He misses the stupid red hair, the laughs they share, the way they kissed like the world was ending but they had all the time in the world.
He spent one day happy. One night not giving a shit about what Terry might say. Not giving a shit about anyone except for Ian. One perfect night. That’s all he asked for.
The world decided that was too much for him. Mickey might agree. As far as he’s concerned, he doesn’t deserve anything. He doesn’t deserve the red hair, the laughs, the kisses. He deserves nothing. Not for being Terry’s favorite son.
Just one peaceful fucking night.
Now he hasn’t talked to Ian in days, he’s saddled with a wife, and has a baby on the way. Because Terry has to get his way. He always does, doesn’t he?
Mickey is halfway through his second bottle of whiskey for the day when Ian walks in. He should’ve expected it, having introduced his favorite hiding spot to him. He should’ve expected a lot of things. What’s done is done, right?
“Heard you were getting married,” Ian says, with a tone suggesting he doesn’t give a shit. He must, right? He has to, after all they’ve been through. Not that Mickey would suggest that. As far as Mickey is concerned, they are still just fuck buddies. Nothing more. He wouldn’t let there be more.
Mickey keeps his mouth shut as Gallagher continues to stare at him, sipping his whiskey and staring outside the window. Maybe, he thinks, if he ignores Ian, this won’t be real. This won’t be happening, was all a bad dream, if he just keeps his mouth shut. This never started if he won’t acknowledge it now.
He’s set on keeping quiet until Ian snaps, throwing an empty bottle of Mickey’s at a pillar in the abandoned room. Fuck it, he thinks then. If this asshole is going to act tough, he’ll show him tough.
He isn’t sure how they end up there, but they are in the yards between their buildings now. Mickey throws the first punch, sending Ian to the ground. Fuck, he can’t stand to hurt him. He can’t stand the way Ian flew to the ground, having lost a tooth. He can’t stand the way he’s groaning in pain now. He’s turned to leave when Ian says “you love me, and you’re gay.”
Okay, tough guy. You want to call him gay, tell him how he feels, you’re going to get the shit beat out of you. Mickey punches Ian again, sending him back down.
Thinking he’s done, that Ian has learned self preservation, he turns to leave again. “You feel better, like more of a man?” Ian asks him while attempting to stand up.
Shit. Not wanting to hurt the idiotic Gallagher more, he sends a kick into Ian’s abdomen. Ian falls down once more. “Feel better now,” Mickey lies as he walks away.
Now, instead of just having his fucked-up conversion rape baby and hand whore wife on his mind, he has that pained expression Ian gave him as he sat there, drinking his whiskey. Now, being Terry’s favorite son is the least of his problems. Because he started to love that red head who smiles at him like he’s the fucking sun. And he just had to keep his tough guy, king of the Southside act up. He just had to hurt Ian. He had to hurt himself.
The only way Mickey knows to hurt himself is by hurting those he loves. Now, he hurt himself. And it feels good. It feels deserved. He deserves to be hurt, for what he’s done. He deserves to be hurt, for who he is. For who he’s ruined. For who he’s hurt.
Mickey doesn’t see Ian again until his wedding day. Until then, he thinks it’s over. That he really fucked it up this time, and there’s no return. That Ian has walked away one last time, leaving Mickey lying naked and alone.