Firecrotch

Michael knowshe is STARING, but he can’t seem to HELP IT. there is something so MAGNETIZING about the male and he can’t help but be pulled in. swallowing hard, he ran his tongue over his upper  lip, before nodding slowly. he should be a great deal more CAREFUL yet he doesn’t seem to care. “ yeah…alright. ”

that's all he needs. a small smile on gracing lips as Ian  GRABS  the front of the boy's shirt.  he leads his new friend somewhere more PRIVATE. briefly he looks back over his shoulder.

        "Ian."

he is not  working so he more incline  to give the guy his REAL name.  it doesn't hurt that he's CUTE and Ian kind of wants to KNOW more about him. though not now. right now he wants to party. wants to get LOST in the high and most  of  all wants to  FUCK.  once away from  the hustle and bustle of the crowded  club floor Ian pulls out a small bag of pills. he holds it out to his new friend.

Fiona’s brows furrow as she reaches out and places a gentle hand on his shoulder, “I know you’re not Monica. You’re not selfish. You never have been and you never will be.” Her shoulders ease up when he agrees as she gives him a small smile, “I think that’s a good place to start.” She looks at him for a moment with concern, “You know I love ya no matter what, right? There’s nothing you could do that could make me love you any less.” Fiona presses a gentle, reassuring kiss to the top of his head.

As she speaks he bites his lip. He knows his family will love him no matter what. Knows they are prepared to handle anything life throws at them including him. Hell, after Monica he probably seemed like a walk in the park. Fiona was right though he wasn’t selfish and that made it worse. Unlike Monica he didn’t want to be a burden on his family, didn't want them to have to worry about him all the time, to suffer because of his illness. "I know Fi. I just hate that you have to deal with all this shit. I remember watching Monica go through her highs and her lows. I don't want that for the people I love."

No one listened, guards  in this place didn’t care.  It was lazy, he’d been  here long enough to  realize that.     “Ooooh, I’d love to.”  As long as he got out  as well. If not he wasn’t  interested.      “Guards here don’t       care, don’t pay       attention to SHIT.       They probably       haven’t noticed       anything. Why what      are you thinking?” 

A bright smile lit up Ian's  face.  He  was ready to get home.

    "One  of  us  creates       a DIVERSION then       the   other   will   be       CLEAR  to grab the       keys since  no  one       will  be  looking  for       TWO of us." 

It wasn’t a complex plan &  it could use a little fleshing out but he thought it was a good start.

“But you don’t act right when you’re off of them. I mean look what happened to Monica when she went off her meds.” A sigh erupts from her as she rubs the bridge of her nose, “Look, why don’t we talk to the Doctor about lowering the dose or something?”

"I am not Monica." He growls. Though her sigh has him calming down some. Deep down he knows Fiona is just worried about him. Sometimes that just makes it all worse, everyone worrying about him. "Fine, yeah let's see if they'll do that. I'm not taking them if they won't."

Jerome nods his head,  agreeing with the other.     “That’s always the WAY,      isn’t it? If they’d been      in the same position,      they’d have done the  SAME. No one ever      gets that.”  He smiles, moving forward at the mention of not staying here LONG.      “Yeah? Me either.     Got a plan yet?” 

Glancing around once more,  certain no  one is listening,  Ian leans forward some.

  "Not  yet,  don't  know    the  lay  of  the  land    yet. I was HOPING    you  could  HELP.

Ian grins  some  as an idea forms in his head.

“Come on, Ian. Just take your damn meds!”

“You don’t get it Fi. I don’t feel right on them. They make me feel like a fuckin’ zombie.”

    “WELLLL,       I’d LOVE to find       out.”  Not that they could  in here. Jerome wasn’t  planning on staying in  here too long though.  No problem busting  the other out too, he’s sure.      “Got bad news for      ya, SPORT. Gotta       be crazy to get yourself      thrown in here. By       THEIR standards anyway.      I don’t think I’m crazy      either. What’d ya’       do to get thrown in?” 

    "No,  I  know  that.      They  all  THINK      I've LOST it. I got      thrown  in  here      cause I KILLED      someone but they      don't understand the      fucker deserved it."

Maybe it's foolish, or indeed crazy, but Ian feels like he can trust this guy. He can only hope this guy wants out as bad as he does because he could use a bit of help breaking out.

Jerome stares noticing  all at once how they look  alike. Too much alike.  Exactly alike. Like staring into a mirror, except  the reflection is way too depressing to be him.     “…Whaaaat the fuck?”  New things happen  everyday it seems.    “No FAIR, I was going to      ask you that. I’m not SURE.     There’s probably a reasonable     explanation that doesn’t      sound straight out of a      soap opera.” 

  “With my  LUCK  it’s    more likely something    outta  a  Stephen  King    novel.”

Suddenly, as if from no where laughter bubbles up from inside him.

@packin9inchs| liked for a starter

   “Welcome to HELL,”  He says, sitting down  in front of the NEW  face.      “Just kidding. It’s       not SO bad. The       food is a little      dry sometimes.      But,”  He shrugs.      “You get used to      that.” 

He  looks  up  at  the STRANGER now  talking to him.  Only the face is not really strange   but   more disturbingly familiar.

    "I'm starting to think      dry food is the least      of my worries."

His  eyes  dart  around the room for a moment.

“I promise, I promise.” Yev was practically bouncing  he was so excited. “Can we go do it now? Please? Ian Please?!” He pleaded with his step-father, looking up at him with wide eyes. The one thing he probably loved most about Ian was hearing his stories of his ROTC training, Yevgeny couldn’t wait until he was old enough to start. 

@packin9inchs liked this for a Christmas starter!

outside, the snow was starting to fall. leaning against the window, Michael’s breath made a GHOST of the hood rats going about their business, feeling a sense of EUPHORIA. it had been  y e a r s  since  he had last seen a snowfall, and never like this. reaching across the bed, he rocked Ian gently, a BRIGHT SMILE pulling at his lips.

“ Ian? Ian! it’s SNOWING! ”

a sleepy groan left the red haired boy. someone was trying to wake him, but why? it registered that his name was called. the voice sounded EXCITED about whatever it was.

SNOWING! Ian heard that loud & clear, his body shooting up as he looked out the window. it's the FIRST snow of the season & he’s out of bed grabbing clothes quickly. there was something about the snow. no matter how bad things got in the dreary grey haze he calls life it had a way of making him feel like a small boy again. happy, hopefully, & PURE.

Yevgeny’s face lit up and he ran to hug the redhead around the waist. “Aw thanks Ian! You’re the greatest dad ever!” Ever since Yev found out about Ian’s army  days he had been dying to learn some stuff, specifically with a switch knife. 

“Aw c’mon Ian please!” The young Milkovich pleaded with his step-father. He’d known for a long time it was easier to get anything out of the redhead than his mom or dad.  Ian had a weak spot when it came to Yev and the boy loved to use that against him.  “I won’t tell anyone promise?”

@packin9inchs liked this for a short starter

he’d seen him around, of COURSE he had. dancing at the clubs in boy’s town. America was a WORLD away from what he’d known growing up; the land of FREEDOM and BIGOTRY all rolled into one. but here, in the dark corners of Chicago, was a  h o m e unlike any he’d known before. the red head’s swaying body was like a SIREN SONG and, try as he might, he found himself pulled BACK here. third time this week. 

this wasn't the first time he had seen the guy. at first it had been just a  GLIMPSE  here and there.  though RECENTLY it’s been impossible not to see him. letting the music guide his body Ian shot the guy a KNOWING smirk. 

moving across the dance floor he leaned in close to the guy who seemed to be under his SPELL. his lips almost brushing against the guy’s ear as he spoke.