#letianbottom

Second part of Numerical A.U.gust.

beta’d by mrsenneshaw​

Rating: Explicit. Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University; Explicit Sexual Content; Fuckbuddies; Internalized Homophobia; Mildly Dubious Consent; LetIanBottom; Bottom Ian Notes: tagged with 'mildly dubious consent' because of Nuria's remark regarding one of the scene. Though, it'll be shown later in the chapter that nothing was dubious regarding the character's will to have sex. I preferred tagging it in case of potential trigger.

Chapter 1: Week 1.

It’s probably only 7 PM by now, but Ian’s exhausted. He hasn’t thought he’d have that many things to move into his new home – well, at least for the year. He spent his two first years in college in dorms, rooming with idiots. But this year, it’s over. He managed to find someone renting a room in a house not that far from college. He applied, and here he is. Well, it was more complicated than that, but now that he is actually in the room itself, with boxes scattered around and a bare bed awaiting fresh sheets, he doesn’t want to think about anything else.

He’s borrowed Kev’s truck to move his stuff from the Gallagher home to this house because everyone else has been way too busy to actually help him – not that he cares. His neighbor only needs his vehicle back the next day, so Ian slumps down on the bed. He closes his eyes, but thinks hard enough to not actually fall asleep right here. He can hear noises downstairs, voices. He’s the third one moving into the house this week, but Jennifer told him earlier in the day that within another week, the two other empty bedrooms will be occupied. Apparently, the two missing roommates have been living here for the past three years, and would only come back by the end of the summer.

Mickey’s quiet. Really fucking quiet. He talks before—big game, and after— but in the middle of everything he bites his lip and furrows his brow and breathes out hard through his nose with restraint that no seventeen year old should be trained to have. Ian thinks about the times— if any— with other guys, other places, quiet, quiet. A gasp that he immediately swallows back down with a grunt that never leaves his throat. Ian wants to change that, all of it. Come undone.

Summary:

Ian wakes up after his four week long low phase, happy to feel normal again but he overhears Mickey and Mandy talking about how expensive his meds are and how they're struggling to come up with the money. So after hearing this he leaves and starts wandering the streets of Chicago. He passes out in front of a church and a young modern priest takes him in. Ian finds comfort in the last place he ever thought.

Prologue

Snow creaked under his feet, and the cold was filling his lungs with every breath his shivering lips took. It was probably one of the coldest days this winter, or maybe it wasn't. Maybe it was just the fact he was wearing nothing more than a wrinkled, plaid shirt and baggy sweatpants he grabbed off the floor which probably weren't even his to begin with. They were too short, just enough to cover his bare ankles and the top of his socks that peeked from his worn-out red Converse sneakers.

He wrapped his arms around his chest, desperately trying to warm up, but his body couldn't resist the cold. He was shivering as the blood in his veins became more and more frozen. He didn't even know where he was going, he just knew he needed to get  away from there. 

If he was being honest, Ian knew this was bound to happen eventually. He knew Mickey would break one day and get fed up with everything. Yes, Ian knew Mickey had some sort of feelings for him.The things he’d done and still continued doing confirmed that: coming out in front of his family, the beating he took for him. It all made sense. But it wasn't just that. It was the soft touches on Ian's shoulders, the peppered kisses on his hair, the way Mickey's body would curl up against his, his hands covering Ian's when he would wrap them around Mickey's waist. The hot breath against Ian's neck and the words that melted his entire being, sending him one step more towards bliss. That was the way of Mickey showing he cared. That Ian mattered, that he's the one. He didn't need Mickey to tell him those three little words; Ian knew that.

But then his brain had to fall apart and fuck up everything. Just when things were going really well.

Sure, there were things Ian didn't like. He knew that Mickey's son didn't ask to be born, he was just a little sweet innocent being with his father's blue eyes and soft pale skin and he was beautiful. But every time Ian's eyes would come up to meet his, in his mind he relived that terrible day when everything fell apart. His present, his future, his life.

Having Svetlana there wasn't helping either. She wasn't all that bad and Ian was kind of thankful that she understood and accepted him, albeit reluctantly, but still… He just wished it could have been two of them. Alone. Just him and Mickey. It didn't matter where, it could be in a small shitty room with a dirty old mattress or in a castle with a pool and servants. He would have been just as happy. Just to feel Mickey in the mornings, eat breakfast with him with their feet tangled under the table, to crawl into bed next to him and fall asleep with Mickey's back pressed tightly against his heart, skin on skin, hand in hand.

But no. The universe had other plans for him. Because the moment they were supposed to begin living their lives the way they wanted to and the way it should be was the exact moment his mind decided to play with them. And Mickey, oh God, Mickey. He was so happy when they were lying in bed free, talking, kissing, cuddling. Just breathing next to each other. Existing for each other. He was supposed to smile, he wasn't supposed to cry himself to sleep every night. He thought Ian didn't know that, but even at his lowest, he was lucid enough to feel the bed shake and hear silent sobs from the boy next to him, a boy he had loved since he was fifteen. That's what Mickey was: a nineteen year old boy with a kid he didn't want, a wife he didn't love, a sister he couldn't help and a psycho crazy boyfriend who dragged him further down under the water every single minute of every single day. No one deserved that kind of a life with that much shit on their back.

That was why Ian was walking through the snow, poorly dressed and cold, feeling only the warmth of his breath and the sting of tears frozen on his cheeks.

  It was the first day in almost four weeks that Ian woke up feeling normal. Well,as normal as anyone in his state of mind could feel. He took his time to glance around the room. It was still a bit dark with just a couple of rays of morning sun rising and poking through the holes in the rusty, broken blinds, reflecting off the small mirror on the back of the door, making the entire room brighter by the second. He reached behind his back but his hand found only a crumpled blanket and a small, soft pillow.

No Mickey. He was probably in the kitchen having breakfast with Mandy, Ian thought to himself. He uncovered the blanket that was wrapped tightly around his body and propped on his elbow, trying to move his legs over the edge of the bed onto the floor. His whole body ached and his back cracked as he sat himself up, head low between the shoulder blades, his eyes fixated on his bare feet. He twisted his neck couple of times just to regain the feeling again and helped himself up, leaning on his palms and pushing off the mattress.

He was naked so he grabbed the first thing that was lying on the floor: some baggy sweatpants and a blue tank top, covering it with a longsleeved, plaid shirt. His Converse were there with socks still folded in them, next to an old wooden chair that was missing a leg and was now more of a hanger than a chair. He put them on and tucked his shirt in. There was a small, round mirror hanging on the back of the door but Ian refused to stop and look at his reflection. He just ran his fingers through his hair a couple of times and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, fingers swiping over his mouth to clean the remains of the drool that had gathered in the corner.

The door was closed but he could smell bacon and eggs, and the distinct scent of coffee, probably strong, the way Mickey liked it. His stomach growled at the sensation and he thought to himself that it was a good thing he was hungry. He didn't have much to eat during his low phase. He remembered Mickey bringing him toast every now and then but he never felt strong enough to move, let alone eat. He exhaled, closed his eyes and reached for the knob quietly. He knew the door squeaked when opened all the way so he pushed it slowly, inch by inch, not wanting Mickey to hear. He wanted to surprise him.

With the door half opened, Ian heard muffled noises coming from the kitchen. He recognized Mickey's and Mandy's voices. He exited the room making his way into the hallway when he stopped in his tracks. The smile that had spread over his face just a second ago faded as soon as he heard Mickey speak.

"I can't, Mandy. I just..." Mickey was sitting at the table rubbing his hands across his pale tired face in frustration. Envelopes with what Ian assumed were bills were scattered all over. Mandy was opposite of him, eating her eggs and looking down at her plate. "I'm torn between him and that little fucker. Svetlana has her hand in my wallet. Bitch asks me for money every day. Diapers cost a shit load, not to mention Ian's meds. I just can't d-"

 "No! Don't you dare," Mandy cut him off before he could finish. "You hear me? Don't you fucking dare to say‒to even THINK‒that you can't do this. After everything the two of you went through? The shit you survived? It was worth it Mick. You love him and he loves you. Hell, he loved you from day one. I know, I listened to him talk about you, and the way his eyes shined and his smile grew wider with every word… Don't you ever think that he isn't worth it." She was now standing in front of him, holding her half empty plate and a mug, with her eyes boring into him.

"I'm not saying he isn't worth it. I've never said that. I wouldn't have done all those things if I thought that. If there's anyone in this world that deserves everything, it's him. I just… I don't think I'll be able to give him that. Maybe Fiona was right. Maybe he should get some real help or treatment or some shit. Everything I had done these past weeks didn't do jack shit. He's still in bed, covered up to his eyes, won't talk, won't eat, drink… Just sleeps and no matter what I do I can't change it." Mickey looked up at her and she put the plate down, wrapping her arm around her brother's shoulders, while he continued talking.

"How could I even think I would be able to take care of him on my own? Shit, I still don't even understand that bipolar crap." Mandy went to the kitchen, put the dishes into the sink and leaned against the counter, her hands folded across her chest.

"We can make it, Mick. I'll put in some extra shifts, we could ask Fiona and Lip to chip in some more. And the rub ‘n’ tug is going pretty good, right? Besides-" she looked down at her feet and wrapped the sweater tightly around herself "-we don't have to pay the gas bill this month. We'll just get some more blankets or whatever..."

"Right," Mickey scoffed, "bitch is gonna cut my balls off if I let that little fucker freeze to death. No, I'm gonna have to go on runs again, maybe ask Joey if he could cut me in." He leaned back and yawned loudly.

"Jesus, go and get some sleep Mick. You need the strength for all of this. How long has it been since you had a good night’s sleep anyway? Go, I'll clean this up. Go see if Ian wants something to eat. Here-" she poured some water into the glass and handed it to her brother, "-try and make him drink this." He took it and went to his bedroom.

  An hour must have passed since Ian began walking through the cold Chicago streets. His feet were getting tired and he could barely feel his toes anymore. He thought about going to Brian's, but it would be a long walk all the way to the North side. So he kept walking and walking, body shivering and fingers red, teeth chattering behind purple lips, but he kept on going until he couldn't walk anymore.

Chapter 2 : Where are you, Gallagher?

Summary:

Mickey brought Ian's pillow to his face and inhaled. It smelled of sweat and camomile cream and it was a bit greasy but he didn't care. He couldn't get Ian to take a shower so he would wipe the sweat off his face with a warm, damp cloth and cover it with a thin layer of chamomile cream (Svetlana said it would soothe and relax his skin-she gave him one of Yevgeny's tubes). He closed his eyes, still clutching the pillow. "Where the fuck are you, Gallagher?"

Three weeks earlier

  There were few moments in Mickey' life when he felt exactly like this: calm, lying in his bed, rested after a good night's sleep. He remembered all of them because they were rare.They were good times, times when his mom was alive and somewhat normal and would occasionally wake him up before school by whispering in his ear, "C'mon baby, school time." Mickey loved these moments, that feeling just seconds after you opened your eyes and saw the only person in your life who would make you feel safe and loved, protected from everything.

And when that person gave you a smile so bright it could outshine the sun itself, you knew you meant something. You knew someone cared and no matter how bad you felt until that moment, you knew your day was going to get better and that you'd make it through.

Now, as Mickey was lying in his small bed, feeling heat from a familiar muscular body pressed up against his, freckled arm covering his own and a feeling of hot breath against his neck, he knew his day was going to be good.

"Mmmm....mornin'" Ian said and planted a soft kiss on Mickey's shoulder. It was warm and sweet and made Mickey's heart do fucking jumping jacks inside his chest. He felt a slight pain in his neck as he tried to turn towards the familiar face.

"Ow..." he winced involuntarily. "Shit man, it's like I was hit by a fucking truck." He opened his eyes and saw Ian propped on his elbow, and judging from the way his face looked fresh, Mickey knew he’d been awake for sometime now. "What's the time?"

"Little after nine," Ian said without even looking at the clock. "You feelin' okay?"

"I feel like shit man.Can't move, it's like I broke every fucking bone in my body," Mickey said, his voice close to a whisper. He stretched his left hand above his head while his right stayed tucked under a pillow. "Why's it so quiet in here? Your house is usually like a train station," he asked shifting a bit, trying to get closer to Ian.

"Debbie and Carl went to school, Fiona took Liam to V's before heading for work. So that leaves you and me alone in here." Ian smiled one of those stupid grins that made Mickey's heart grow three times bigger just from the feeling of it.

"Yeah? Well sorry to dissapoint you, but no way I'm fucking you feeling like this."

"It's ok, I'll fuck you then. It's kinda my job anyway," Ian said and pressed his hip against Mickey's, letting him feel his erection, but he stopped after Mickey's  hiss. "Shit, did I hurt you?"

"Nah man, just… my ribs… don’t worry about it," he cupped Ian's face and brushed a couple of loose strands of red hair from his forehead. Memories of the events from the night before came to him in a flash. "Fuck, can't believe last night happened," he said. "Did it happen? Tell me last night happened."

"It happened," Ian whispered and ran his fingers through the dark hair. "It fucking happened," he repeated and gave Mickey a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. "You were amazing, so brave… so fucking brave, and strong and beautiful..." Ian leaned in and nuzzled his nose in Mickey's hair, peppering kisses along his neck, down his chest.

"Shut up. Cut that sappy shit man," Mickey said softly, moving his head to the side, not wanting Ian to see him blushing.

"Well, sappy or not, I've never been more proud of you. Ever." Ian threw the covers away and they ended up on the floor. He then shifted a bit and got on his knees next to Mickey's hip, trailing his fingers along Mickey's chest. "The way you stood up to your dad, it was… I can't even find the words to describe it."

"Can't find the words huh? That's a first." Mickey grinned and let out a loud groan when Ian pinched one of his nipples. "Fuck..." It was unbelievable how that boy knew just the right thing to do, the right thing to say to make Mickey fall apart at the seams.

"You like that?" Ian whispered, making small circles over and over around Mickey's nipple with his thumb before he gave it a slow lick and bit it softly. It was hardly more than a touch but it made Mickey's gut twist in a way he couldn't even describe. And he really didn't think he would ever get tired of that. He twisted his fingers in red hair and held tightly, trying to keep Ian in place.

His erection was tenting his boxers and he was one step away fromgoing back on  his words about being too hurt to fuck, because the way Ian's lips were inching closer and closer to his hips he didn't think he felt the pain anymore. As Ian ran his thumbs over Mickey's sensitive nipples, he kissed around his belly button at the same time When he lifted his head up to look Mickey in the eyes, Mickey's head was tilted back, exposing the fine column of his neck and Ian just wanted to bite into the pulse line, because he knew it made Mickey's heart beat faster. And Ian loved feeling the vibrations of Mickey’s moaning on his lips.

"Jesus Christ, Ian..." Mickey moaned when Ian ran his tongue over the head of his dick through the thin fabric of his boxers, a combination of saliva and precum making a wet spot on it. Ian pulled the waistband down just enough to take Mickey’s cock into his mouth.The other man spread his legs wider on instinct and bent them at the knees as his grip on Ian's hair tightened. He watched, mesmerized, as the redhead bobbed up and down his cock and at Ian’s tongue licking over the slit, making small circles around it.

The sight of Ian all flushed and beautiful, lips swollen red and eyes closed almost made him come right there on the spot like he was a teenager, but then Ian looked up and suddenly Mickey felt a sharp pain piercing his chest.

He held Ian's head still, looking straight into those beautiful big eyes, and the way Ian smirked at him made him feel like crying. He still couldn’t comprehend why someone so beautiful, so smart and perfect in every way would ever want to be with him. And not just be with him but to touch him, kiss him, laugh with him. To love him.

Yes, it was stupid and gay and ridiculous, call it what you want, the way looking at another man made his stomach and his chest tighten, but he couldn't stop it. His eyes were tearing up and he couldn't do shit about it. And he told himself that he wasn't going to cry, he wasn’t a pussy and crying while someone is sucking your dick was definitely not the right thing to do but he couldn’t stop himself. He could feel it, one single drop falling from his eye, rolling down his cheek. 

And then another one, and another one…

Ian came up and brushed the tears away, holding Mickey close and kissing the top of his head, just like he did the night before, when the doors to that cage of fear and embarrassment that the name Milkovich closed around him opened and Mickey walked out a free man.

"Shh... it's ok..." he whispered softly in Mickey's ear, "...you're good....we're good.”

And Mickey buried his head into Ian's neck and dug his nails into Ian's arms, his knuckles turning white. It was like he had been drowning and there was nothing there to keep him from going under, no life jacket, no branches, nothing. But then suddenly a float in the form of a redheaded body appeared from somewhere and he held on to it with everything he had. He realized that he didn't want to go under, he realized that his life was worth living because someone cared. Because for some reason he couldn’t understand, someone loved him and wanted him, with all his virtues and all his flaws.

So he gripped it almost to the point of breaking and he just let tears fall. It didn't matter if it made him look like a bitch, because he knew Ian would never think that. He would never mention it again and Mickey loved him for that even more than he had up until now.

And he honest to God hoped that Ian was here to stay.

  *** 

  “Carl, Debbie!” Fiona was shouting from the kitchen, putting peanut butter and jelly on bread slices, preparing lunches for her younger siblings. “C'mon, school time! Let's go!” She put the sandwiches into paper bags, grabbed cereal and milk from the counter and brought them to the table. She gave Liam a quick peck on the cheek and shoved a piece of toast in his mouth. “Here, little one, eat and you're gonna be a big boy. Yes you are, yes you are…” He giggled as she rubbed her nose against his, giving him an eskimo kiss, when the loud thumping and shoving down the stairs made her stop their little session.

“I'm just saying, you look like a skank.” Carl shrugged his shoulders before he plopped down on the chair, ruffling Liam's hair and shoving a mouthful of cereal into his mouth. 

“I do not, stupid. It's not that short. Besides-” Debbie poured herself some milk into a bowl before abruptly grabbing the box of cereal from her brother, “-it's none of your business how I dress.”

“Or don't dress,” Carl retorted and earned a slap on the head from Fiona.

”Hey! Enough of that. Eat your cereal.“ She turned her gaze to Debbie. “But Carl is right, that skirt is a bit shorter than what you usually wear. Maybe you oughtta change, it's freezing outside and that outfit is definitely not something you wear to school-”

“Jesus I'm not a little girl anymore, why is everyone still treating me that way?!“ she rolled her eyes and got up to put the dishes in the sink.

“Ok, God. I was just saying. Cool it down,” Fiona sighed.

“So you're gonna go see Ian today?“ Debbie asked while putting on her jacket.

“Yeah, it's been three days already. I just hope Mickey got him to at least eat something. I'll tell him you'll be there after school, okay?“

“Yeah...C'mon Carl, we're gonna be late.” She ushered her brother through the door, leaving Fiona and Liam alone in the empty house.

“Ok, I guess that leaves just you and me here, huh?“ She sat beside Liam's high chair and took her phone out of her jeans pocket, writing Mickey a text, telling him she’d be stopping by in an hour. “We're gonna go see how your big brother's doing. You'll give him a big kiss, wont you?“

She wiped the crumbs off of Liam's cheek and got up from the table, rushing to do as many chores as possible.

  ***

   "You gonna do it or you want me to?" Mandy was standing on the threshold of her brother's room with a phone in her hands. "We checked everywhere, he's not here Mick. Maybe he went home, to see his family, y'know?" She looked at her brother, scrunched on the bed, holding Ian's pillow against his chest. Her heart was breaking, and as much as she loved Ian, she loved her brother more and she realized just now how much he was hurting.

Seeing the two of them together these last few weeks made something in her heart flutter. She was genuinely happy for them. It took her a while to accept the fact that they could be good for each other, but things finally settled in the way they were supposed to. Mickey came out because of his love for Ian and Ian came back because of his love for Mickey. It was the best possible scenario she could have ever imagined for her favourite two people in the whole world.

When she thought about it, Mickey did change a lot. Of course he was still pissed off most of the time, but with Ian it seemed to falter a little. Ian made it somehow bearable.

"I thought this was his home now," Mickey said and his voice sounded so broken, Mandy felt like a dagger sank into her stomach. "That we're his family now, y'know?.... How stupid is that?"

"I didn't mean it like that Mick. I just meant that maybe he misses his brothers and sisters." She shrugged her shoulders and silently entered the room, like she did when she would check up on Ian. Something stopped her from going in deeper so she sat herself on the edge of the bed. She reached out her hand towards her brother's back but quickly pulled it away. Mickey wasn't the touching type. When she would do that after Terry's rampages, he'd just shake it away and tell her to go fuck herself.

"I mean after everything I've been through for him… for us… don't you think he'd at least want to see me first? And not escape through the window like he was a fucking prisoner here?"

"You know he hasn't been feeling himself, maybe it's just a phase or something." Mandy tried to comfort him.

"Like what, he suddenly had amnesia and forgot who and where he was? Besides, if he still is in a phase, why the fuck would he go and put himself in danger all over again?"

She wished she had an answer to that. Why indeed? Fiona said that after the low phase another manic one would come. Mandy shivered at the thought of what could happen to him outside, all alone and vulnerable. "C'mon Mick, we don't have much time. It's been, what, an hour since you noticed he was gone? Let's do this, please."

Mickey turned to face her and nodded. "Okay," he whispered, "okay." Mandy saw how his eyes were red and walked out to make a desperate call to the Gallaghers, leaving her brother alone in the room.

Mickey brought Ian's pillow to his face and inhaled. It smelled of sweat and camomile cream and it was a bit greasy but he didn't care. He couldn't get Ian to take a shower so he would wipe the sweat off his face with a warm, damp cloth and cover it with a thin layer of chamomile cream (Svetlana said it would soothe and relax his skin-she gave him one of Yevgeny's tubes). He closed his eyes, still clutching the pillow.

"Where the fuck are you, Gallagher?"

Chapter 3: Where am I?

Summary:

The first thing Ian saw when he opened his eyes was a light-yellow ceiling and a small round chandelier and he knew he was nowhere familiar. No one in his family had a room this clean and a chandelier that's not broken. He blinked a couple of times, adjusting his eyes as he lowered his gaze, feeling a sharp pain across his forehead. He had no memory of how he got here in the first place.

---

The first thing Ian saw when he opened his eyes was a light-yellow ceiling and a small round chandelier and he knew he was nowhere familiar. No one in his family had a room this clean and a chandelier that's not broken. He blinked a couple of times, adjusting his eyes as he lowered his gaze, feeling a sharp pain across his forehead. He had no memory of how he got here in the first place.

He was lying in a small bed covered by a soft blanket and he felt warm. A rush of panic went through his chest and he instinctively lifted the blanket up and huffed a sigh of relief when he saw he was fully clothed.

It was probably dark outside because the blinds were tightly closed and there was a lit candle on the nightstand left of the bed, with a rosary neatly placed next to it. He shook his head in wonder and tried to get up, but fell back on the bed, feeling a slight pressure in his chest that made it difficult for him to breathe.

There was a knock on the door couple of seconds later and a woman's voice asked for permission to come in. He said yes and a short, middle aged woman entered. He noticed that she was wearing some kind of a long black dress and some kind of veil on her head. Is that ….a habit? Is she… she's a nun! Jesus Christ where the hell was he?

"No, no, don't get up. I just came in to see if you were awake and wanted something to eat?" the nun asked and sat on the bed next to him, putting her palm on his forehead to check his temperature.

"No thanks, I am thirsty though." She reached over to the nightstand and poured him a glass of water.

"Well, good thing is you don't have a fever anymore, young man. Here, drink this and I'm going to get Father Aaron in here." She helped him bring the glass to his lips and when she attempted to get up he grabbed her wrist gently, holding her in place.

"Where am I?" he asked.

"You are safe, don't worry. Let me get Father Aaron and he will tell you everything you want to know, ok?" Memories of the previous day came to him in short sequences. He remembered  getting out of the house, he remembered walking and a sudden feeling of cold running through his body before it all went black.

***

   "I knew it, I just knew it! This is exactly what I said would happen, but noooo... Did anybody listen to me?" Lip was pacing around the Milkovich livingroom while taking off his gloves and beanie, looking at Mickey who was smoking his second pack of the day.

After Mandy informed her of her brother's disappearance, Fiona immediately called Lip who hopped on the L and came rushing home. It was like he was just waiting for Mickey to fuck up so he could finally prove that he's definitely not a good choice for Ian.

"Lip come on, it's nobody's fault. Don't make this worse for everyone than it already is," Fiona said, going through the contact list on Ian's phone, texting everyone in his address book hoping to get any feedback on her brother's whereabouts. But all the texts she received so far were the same: Sorry, I haven't seen him.

"Why? Am I saying something wrong here? What, you really thought he could do this alone?" Lip raised his voice and pointed to Mickey who was on his feet in two seconds, getting into Lip's face.

"First of all bitch, don't talk about me like I'm not even here. And what gives you the right to say anything? It took you eight fucking days to come and see Ian. Not to mention you never called! Not fucking once! So fuck off and get the fuck out of my house!" he shoved Lip hard in the chest and strolled past him on his way to the kitchen to grab a beer from the fridge.

"Oh that's it, just drink some more, that'll help find my brother," Lip said mockingly and leaned on the table, grabbing it so hard his knuckles turned white and continued, "Jesus Christ, he could be freezing as we speak, lying somewhere in the gutter..."

"Shut the fuck up! " Mickey yelled. "You have no right to stand here and talk shit. You’re about six months too late. Where the fuck were you while he was drugged out of his mind, waking up in fuck knows whose house every mornin'? Or getting felt up by everyone? Huh? You were not there for him then so cut the shit and stop making yourself look like the big concerned brother you failed to be."

"Yeah? Well why do you think he left in the first place?" Lip jabbed his fingers hard into Mickey's chest. "You made him feel like shit, like he meant nothing, you drove him away, you and your fucked up game you played with hi-" But he didn't get to finish because Mickey's fist was flying through the air and colliding with Lip's jaw.

Fiona immediately jumped and went to stand between them. "ENOUGH!" she pushed them away from each other. "This is not helping Ian in any way! We need to be in this together, that's the only way we'll find him and get him home. So if you two can't at least pretend to tolerate each other and stop blaming one another, you can both just...." she waved her hands in exasperation and ran out of the house grabbing her coat from the couch, tears filling her eyes.

  ***

   Ian was lying on the bed, his right hand behind his head and his left tapping lightly on his stomach, when a young priest he was sure was the Father Aaron that the nun had mentioned came in after knocking a couple of times.

"Good evening, young man. Glad to see you are doing better. Sister Sarah told me you don't have a fever anymore." Father Aaron smiled and sat himself on the chair next to the bed.

Father Aaron was a good looking man. Ian supposed he was in his late twenties, although a couple of wrinkles around his eyes and lips made him look probably few years older. He had short brown hair and big brown eyes, and his smile was pretty and bright. And even though he was clothed from neck to toe, Ian could see the outline of muscles underneath his suit. Ian would even go to the extent of calling him beautiful if it wasn't too weird, given the fact that he was a priest.

"So, you are probably wondering where you are and how you got here?" Father Aaron said, seeing Ian only glared at him, not making a sound. Ian cleared his throat and sat up with his legs crossed.

"Yeah, I was wondering that. And if you are a priest and that lady from earlier was a nun, I'd say I am in… church?"

The priest nodded. "That would be right. Two of our altar boys found you passed out on our doorstep yesterday afternoon and they called for me. You were cold and your lips were blue. We thought you might have frozen or something but you were still breathing so we carried you inside to warm you up. This-" he pointed around them, "-is my room, actually. But you can stay here for as long as you want, alright?" He got up, making his way towards the door when Ian's voice stopped him.

"Um… I think you should know something about me first before you let me stay in here," he said.

"Alright son, what is it?"

Ian thought about what he was going to say for a few seconds and then just blurted out, "I'm gay." He waited for a reaction from the priest, but the man simply stood still at the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Ok." he said calmly.

"’Ok’? That's it?" Ian asked incredulously. "Aren't you afraid you're gonna like, go to hell for being around me or something?"

The priest smiled and shook his head, moving away from the door and sat next to Ian. "Listen, son-"

"Can you not call me ‘son’ please?" Ian interrupted him. "I'm not used to it, no one has called me that in a long time..." He fidgeted with couple of loose threads on his sweatpants, averting his eyes from the man beside him. "My name is Ian."

"Well Ian, nice to meet you. I'm Aaron," the man said and offered Ian his hand which Ian shook with a light smile on his face. "Anyway, as I was saying..." he continued, "...you are a person, one of God's children, gay or straight, black or white, rich or poor. So if I'm going anywhere for helping you, I'm sure it will be somewhere where I will be appreciated and acknowledged.”

 Ian just shrugged. This was the first time he was open with someone who was supposed to be against everything Ian was. But he had to admit, he felt somewhat relaxed and safe talking about it with Father Aaron.

"But aren't you supposed to preach against us or something? I mean, I know how the church feels about gays-"

The man's soft voice interrupted him. "Listen Ian, let me tell you something first and then you can draw your conclusions about the church and about me. Not me as Father Aaron, me as a person, as Aaron Roberts, ok?" Ian nodded and sat up straight, leaning his head against the headboard, looking at the man in front of him with interest.

 Father Aaron relaxed and exhaled before continuing.

"I never thought about becoming a priest. I was just a normal child, growing up in a loving family with two older sisters and a baby brother. Our parents were probably the most understanding people in the world, there wasn't anything we were not allowed to do. Well, they did instill in us the ability to differentiate right from wrong, so it's not like they were ok with us wanting to, say, shave our heads or smoke and drink. We knew the consequences of our actions and they made us deal with those consequences alone. My oldest sister Andrea was the closest to me, she is seven years older and taught me a lot from her experiences in life. I love her to death. Annie, my younger older sister came out to us on her seventeenth birthday. I was twelve but I knew what being gay meant.

My parents accepted it, dad wasn't particularly happy but over the years he kind of learned how to deal with all the looks from our neighbors and even some members of our family, and today he has a rainbow flag on his wall behind his office desk. My brother Anthony is finishing high school, wants to be an astronaut. Go figure. And yes, my parents had this weird obsession with a certain letter. My father’s name is Alan and my mother’s is Angelica.So it was actually her wish to have all of her children’s names start with an A. Dad used to tease her and said that the next step should be changing our surname. But that would be too weird, right?" He laughed at the memory and shook his head slightly, but his face became serious again as he continued.

"I was a quarterback in school, had straight As, tons of friends, not to mention girlfriends." And Ian could almost imagine what Father Aaron must have looked like in his varsity jacket, sitting at the middle table in the cafeteria, surrounded by pretty girls all wanting his attention, and guys just being proud to be his friends. "I was very popular, girls were dancing around me, dying to know who my next girlfriend was going to be. And I literally had a new girl every couple of weeks. Even some of the guys came on to me, I mean it was subtle and to anyone else it wasn't that obvious, but I could tell the difference between when they were just being friendly or flirting with me. And I wasn't repulsed by the idea, I just wasn't attracted to them in that way.

Then in my senior year I began dating this girl whose brother was known for being the bad boy of the neighborhood. It wasn't love or anything, it was more of a… physical nature. But we all started hanging out together and litle by litle I started using. In the beginning it was just a joint or two a day, washed down with some vodka or Jameson, but eventually it resolved in me not being able to function properly without doing a line of coke. It lasted for about three months and I hate to even think about what I was doing in that period of time. I got really good at pretending in front of my family, but Annie sensed there was something wrong and two weeks before Christmas, she arranged an intervention. It was then that I realised that I was hurting everyone around me, not to mention wasting my life and my health away.

I decided to get clean but I didn't go to one of those clinics. Annie's girlfriend's father was a doctor and together they got me clean and sober. So after thinking about it for a couple of weeks, I decided that the best way to thank God for saving me and helping me was to become a priest. It was a shock to everyone. But I wanted to be able to help young people that were going through some hard times in their lives.

So here I am. And I know that as a man of the cloth I'm suppose to agree with everything the Bible says. But how can I be against my own sister? Such a beautiful, smart and honest person whose only fault, according to the Church, is the fact that she's gay?

You will never hear me preach against homosexuality in my services, I never address it in that way. A lot of people in this parish, especially young people like yourself, have come to me, telling me that I am the first person they came out to. I mean, one of the greatest commandments says ‘Love thy neighbor as yourself’ It doesn't say ‘Love thy neighbor unless they're gay, or have a different skin colour’. We are all the same under our skin, we all bleed when we’re cut, we bruise when we fall, our hearts are the same shape. So tell me, Ian, you still think I'll end up in hell for being around you? Besides, the Church has witnessed far worse things than a young gay boy needing help."

Ian was stunned. He was amazed and he simply couldn't manage to let words cross his lips. Father Aaron stood up and headed for the door. He turned to face Ian again. "Get some rest Ian, and tomorrow we'll try to find the way to help you, ok?"

Chapter 4: I'm ready to confess

Summary:

He didn't think he'd ever cried that much in his entire life the way he did now. But he felt at peace, liberated and free. He fell asleep that night with a clear mind and a weight lifted off his shoulders.

  The next day Ian woke up to the smell of fresh coffee. He opened his eyes and squinted at the morning sun coming through the half closed blinds. Sister Sarah was standing in front of a brown wooden closet with two sliding mirror doors. She was going through the clothes and Ian saw her take out a shirt and a pair of jeans. He yawned and sat up, stretched and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

"Good morning Ian" the nun said and turned around, closing the wardrobe doors and putting the clothes she had in her hands on the edge of the bed. "Here are some clean clothes, they are Father Aaron's. You two are built similarly so I think they should fit."

She moved to stand next to the bedside table and poured some coffee into a mug. As Ian took the mug and blew a little at it trying to cool off the coffee, she walked to the window and pulled the blinds up.

"There, some natural light. It looks like it's going to be a beautiful day today." She smiled at him and Ian forced himself to curve his lips up, but inside he felt like crying.

There was nothing wonderful about the day unless Mickey was next to him. Oh God, Mickey… Ian wondered what Mickey was doing. Was he relieved that Ian was gone, did he look for him, was he sad… His heart started beating faster and his chest felt heavy and there were tears forming in the corners of his eyes. He imagined how happy Mickey would have been, seeing his boyfriend up and normal. Ian was going to surprise him, wrap his arms around Mickey's waist and kiss his neck, hold him tight until they both would be out of air, run his hands through that gelled hair of his and lay him on their bed, trail soft kisses down his chest, stroke his back as they laid tangled in each other.

Because Jesus Christ, he loved that boy with every bit of his body, his soul, his entire being. The way Mickey would make him feel complete, as stupid as it sounded, but Ian couldn't remember ever feeling so full and peaceful before that cold winter's day three years ago. And it would be perfect, they would finally be free to enjoy their love every day. Except for one little problem in Ian's brain chemistry that turned their lives upside down.

Having a kid he never wanted and a boyfriend that needed care like a fucking infant wasn't exactly a promising future for Mickey, a future Ian wanted for him, a future he deserved after everything he'd gone through in his shitty life. Ian closed his stinging eyes and let a couple of tears roll down his cheeks with a sigh.

"Father Aaron is waiting for you in his office. It's the second door on the right," Sister Sarah said, looking at him with sadness written all over her face. "Eat your breakfast and change your clothes. Just leave yours on the bed and I'll be here later to take them, ok?" She reached out and caressed his hair. "Don't worry, Ian. Whatever you're going through, I promise we will help you."

Ian leaned into her touch and closed his eyes for a second. It was gentle, almost like a mother comforting her child. And he craved that. He was hungry for a gentle touch, some comforting words and maybe a hug from his mother. She gave him a soft smile and exited the room, leaving him alone with his sadness.

God he missed having a mother.

***

"Good morning Ian. Come, sit down." Father Aaron greeted him and pointed at the chair opposite of his desk as Ian entered his office. Ian nodded and offered him a polite smile. He wasn’t the one to go to church every sunday, it was mostly on Christmas and Easter. But being here made him feel safe and calm. "Did you sleep well?" the priest asked while shutting down his laptop and taking off his reading glasses.

The back of his hand came to cover his mouth as he yawned. "I'm sorry, I guess I didn't get much sleep last night." Ian felt guilty for taking his bed and he apologized. "No, don't worry about that. I have to prepare for tomorrow’s service, and let me tell you, a sermon is not easy to write." He smiled clasping his hands and  leaning on his elbows, closer to where Ian was sitting. "You think you’re ready to call your family, let them know you're alright? Maybe have them come and take you home?" he asked.

"My family..." Ian smiled sarcastically. Really, who was he suppose to call? Fiona, who had her own shit to take care off? Lip, with all of his exams and classes? Debbie, Carl? Or maybe Mandy? As if she wasn't broken enough. The last thing she needed was to take care of an eighteen year old nutcase.

Or maybe Mickey? The thing was, Ian knew that Mickey would come running the second he called. But Ian didn’t want that. No matter how much Mickey loved him, he would be better off without him. 'Cause Ian had become too big of a responsibility and a burden so heavy that it dragged Mickey deeper and deeper under water like a rock tied around his neck, until one days it would suffocate him.

"I don't have anybody. It's just me." He spread his arms and shrugged, looking down at his feet.

"Now Ian, we all have somebody. And I am sure there are people that love you. You just have to give them a chance."

"Like I said," Ian repeated, "it's just me. Everyone else has their own things to take care of."

"So you're saying that nobody wants you? Not even your parents?"

"A drunken bum and a runaway? No. But you could ask them yourself if you could find them."

"Brother, sister..?"

"One in college, one on parole, two teenagers and a toddler? I don't think so."

"Ok, how about friends then? You must have friends."

"An abuse victim? She can't even help herself. I mean, I couldn't help her either. Some friend am I, right?"

"Jesus Ian, you're not giving me much here," the priest huffed and rubbed his forehead. "Ok, is there anyone else? Like a ...love partner maybe?" and Father Aaron sensed he struck a cord because Ian was suddenly looking down and his leg was shaking. He was nervous. "There is someone special, isn't there? Would you like to call him? I presume it's a he, right?"

Ian nodded.

"Mickey," he said quietly.

"Mickey," the priest repeated and nodded. "Alright, let's call Mickey then."

"NO!" Ian almost jumped from his seat. "I don't want to… He doesn't… Just leave it be, please?"

"Ok, ok, sit down and tell me what happened. You will feel better once you get the weight off your chest. Maybe we could make it a real thing and you could confess properly if it'll be easier. What do you say? Would that make you feel more comfortable?"

"I don't know how to, but yeah, why not… I could do that I guess," Ian whispered and twenty minutes later he began his confessions.

Confessions of his broken mind.

He felt good finally letting it all out. And he sure let it all out.

The memories of his childhood, growing up with Frank and Monica, the first time he remembered Frank's fist slamming into his jaw, all those nights when Monica took them for a ride in the middle of the night just to leave them in the car while she got high with God knows who. He talked about school and ROTC training and his big goal in life to join the army and become an officer. About Roger Spikey and Kash and that Asian kid Ralph from under the bleachers and even about Ned.

About all the times he felt used and sad, beaten, hurt. About the first time he felt like there was something different with him, like he was happy one day and then depressed two days later for no reason at all. About Mandy and her friendship, and the way they looked after each other. About his siblings and Fiona's struggle to keep food on the table, about stealing and cheating in order to make some money to pay the gas bills or get a new water heater.

About his dad not being his dad and his mom going from being straight to gay then straight again. About missing her when she was gone and wanting her to leave when she came back. About the army and all the two-faced, traitorous, lying people in Basic training. About party favours and strange mornings spent in unfamiliar beds.

And about Mickey. From the first time Mickey said his name to the time he drove him away. The time Ian fell in love with him just to get himself hurt by him. Their first kiss and their first fight. About Terry and Svetlana, Mickey's son and his sham of a marriage. About Mickey being the one that brought him home when his own family didn't bother to come after him for weeks.

He didn't think he'd ever cried that much in his entire life the way he did now. But he felt at peace, liberated and free. He fell asleep that night with a clear mind and a weight lifted off his shoulders.

  ***

  The church was usually quiet and peaceful; only a few people came in to light a candle and pray in silence. Ian would look at them and think about what they were praying for. Maybe it was for a better life and a chance at happiness. After two weeks there, he learned just how to read people.

He knew that the guy who would come every other day at the same time and sit in the second row on the right side of the altar prayed for his wife to carry her pregnancy safely until the end. Aaron told him it was their fifth child they're expecting and that it was diagnosed with Down’s Syndrome. The husband wanted his wife to abort it at first but one talk with the priest made him change his mind. He never missed a day of prayer since.

Then there was a girl that reminded him so much of Mandy (God he missed her), somewhere around twenty, that prayed for the willingness to forgive her rapist and strength to love the child that was conceived from the act. She was there every day at 5:15 in the afternoon and every time Ian would see her kneeling in front of the altar crying, his heart would break a little, because her story reminded him so much of Mickey. Of that morning when Ian sat on the chair with a gun pointed at his head, watching as his and Mickey's lives fell apart. He would then leave whatever he was doing and go to his room, curl up on the bed and just cry until there would be no more tears left.

He was impressed by one man, possibly in his thirties, who was always in a suit and with a briefcase.He was pretty handsome but he had that sad look in his eyes, like he just lost someone close to him. Father Aaron said that he was a drug addict and even broke his mother's nose once when she refused to give him her grandmother's ring he wanted to sell for a fix. It took him almost a year to accept the fact that he was close to death every time he stuck a needle into his arm. The death of his long-term girlfriend who overdosed on their sixth anniversary was the last straw before he came to the church and humbly asked for help. He got clean, finished law school and, just a week ago, got a job with one of Chicago's oldest law firms. He was there almost every day, thanking God for giving him a new life. He would light a candle after his silent prayer and look up with a hand on his heart and tears in his eyes.

Yes, there were many sad people in this town. And many of them considered this place to be a safe haven, somewhere where they could let their guard down and completely bare their souls. And thinking about it made Ian regret all the times he walked by but never took a step in.

  ***

  Loud knocking woke Mickey up from his sleep. He put a pillow over his head and squeezed it hard against his ears but it didn't help because whoever was at the door, decided to make his life even more miserable than it was up until now. When the knocking didn't stop not even after couple of minutes, the only way to end it was to get up and beat the shit out of whoever had the nerve to step on his porch.

“Alright, knock it off already!” he yelled, which was probably not a good idea since his head was pounding like he had a drums-only orchestra in there. He hoped some ibuprofen and a glass of water would do the trick. “I swear to god, if you are fucking selling something I'm gonna-”

“What the fuck, man?” Iggy yelled as he walked past the wonder-stricken Mickey, slapping him on the side of the head. “Still sleeping? It's like …noon!”

“The fuck are you doin' here?” Mickey kicked the door but then remembered his head would probably explode from the thud so he grabbed it at the last second and slowly closed it. “And why the fuck were you knockin' so damn loud? Don't you got a key to this shithole?” He followed Iggy into the living room, watching as his brother looked like he was on a sightseeing tour.

“Where is everyone?” Iggy turned around and headed for the kitchen, probably to get a beer, Mickey thought. He thought right, because couple of seconds later Iggy came back with two cans and flopped on the sofa, throwing one can at Mickey.

“'Scuse you? You wanna fuckin' tell me what are you doin' here?” Mickey furrowed his brow and stood behind the table, wanting some answers from his brother who obviously wasn't willing to give them.

Just when Iggy was about to move his mouth from the can and tell Mickey why he came there, a loud cry came from Svetlana's room, startling both men.

“Fuck was that?” Iggy burped and put his feet on the coffee table. “Your brat? You're babysittin'?”

Jesus fucking Christ, Mickey totally forgot that it was his turn to watch Yevgeny today. He remembered Mandy telling him something about it last night, but he was too damn drunk to memorize anything but where the beer in their house was.

“Fuck…” he let out a groan and put the opened beer can on the table next to Iggy's feet, giving him a warning look on his way to get his son.

Yevgeny was soaking wet and probably starving because Svetlana had left with Nika in the early morning and Mandy's shift started at nine. So the baby must not have eaten anything since before then. He picked him up from his crib, brought him to the living room and laid him on the couch before he went to get diapers.

"What the fuck, Mouse?! He pissed himself!” Iggy jumped from the couch, accidentally kicking the beer can Mickey left on the table, spilling the beer all over the carpet. It didn't matter much since it was just another stain joining the other fifty.

“Relax you idiot, it ain't gonna bite your head off.” Mickey said while changing Yevgeny's diaper. Mandy showed him how, but he still couldn't do it properly. He remembered one time he and Ian were alone with the kid and how Ian laughed at Mickey who was cursing under his breath trying so desperately to figure out which side goes to the front (“You could help, fuckhead.” “Oh but you're doing fine, Mick.” “Fuck off and show me what to do.”).

“Damn Mouse, you're gettin' pretty good at this whole baby thing. Look at you, a fuckin' dad now.” Iggy laughed and barely dodged the wet diaper Mickey threw at him. “What the fuck?”

“You still haven't told me what the hell you doin' here.” Mickey put Yevgeny in the play pen and went to kitchen to heat up the formula Mandy had already prepared. Despite the fact that he knew how to do it, his sister still wrote him a note explaining how to check on his wrist that it wasn't too hot. “And what's with the ‘Mouse’ thing again? Told you not to call me that.”

When Mickey was born, Iggy was four years old. The cartoons were the most important thing in his little life and when his mom came back from hospital with a baby in her arms and told him: “Iggy, this is Michael, your baby brother, but you can call him Mickey, ok?”  he said: “Like the mouse?” and it stuck until Mickey grew up strong enough to kick Iggy enough to stop him from calling him that. This was first time in almost ten years that Iggy used the nickname again.

“Relax dude, I ain't here to fuck with you.” Iggy said plopping back on the couch.

“Then why are you here? If it's money, I ain't got it.”

“'S not money, Jesus. Can't a man just hang with his brother anymore?”

“A man can, you can't. I haven't seen you in two months. Why the sudden interest in your brother's life? And if it's to talk trash I gotta warn you-”

“Fuck you man, you know I ain't like that. Besides, don't worry, I don't think of you any less after your… um… y'know, coming out, or whatever the fuck  they call it,” Iggy said, sounding offended that his brother would think that. He waited until Mickey took the baby in his arms and fed him the bottle. Yevgeny fell asleep before he could finish it. “So you two are alone, huh?”

“Looks like it smartass.” Mickey took a sleeping Yevgeny back to Svetlana's room and sat next to his brother, lighting a cigarette. “Fuckin' finally,” he groaned and twisted his neck. “So, how have you been and shit?” he asked Iggy, leaning his head against the back of the couch and putting his legs on the table next to Iggy's.

“Same old same old, same construction job, still with that skinny chick from that burger joint.”

”Yeah? She good to you?”

“Suppose. Been living with her folks for a month now. Dad’s an asshole but her mom is fuckin' hot, I mean, H.O.T. Y'know? Would bang her anytime, man.” Iggy laughed and grabbed his crotch with his right hand, giving it a squeeze.

“You're disgusting, y'know that, right?” Mickey said with a frown but still laughed with him.

“Oh shit, yeah, I forgot you ain't like that.“

Mickey stood up and faced his brother. “The fuck are you gettin' at?“

“Jesus, relax for fuck's sake! Damn, when did you get so touchy?” Iggy put up his hands in defense. “Sit your ass back down, I wanna talk to you. Got some stuff 'round here?”

“Yeah.” Mickey went to grab them some more beer and a joint he had stashed under his bed. “Here, it's the last one.” He gave it to Iggy and popped the cap from his beer bottle taking a sip. “So,” he continued, “you were saying?“

Iggy cleared his throat and flipped a lighter in his hand a few times. “Anyway, Mandy said you've been drinkin' a lot lately.”

“Oh, she sent you then? So is this like an intervention or some shit? 'Cause I don't need nobody tellin' me how to deal with my shit.”

“It's no intervention man, I just thought you wanted to have, like, a man to man talk or some shit. I dunno.” Iggy punched Mickey's shoulder like he used to when they were kids. It didn't hurt, it was a Milkovich being as affectionate as he knew best. Mickey could tell the whole situation was awkwardly uncomfortable for Iggy, but he wasn’t feeling any differently either.

“You mean 'bout Ian? You know nothin' about it, man.”

“So tell me. Y'know, they say brothers are s'possed to care about each other, so I guess this is me caring about you. Or something.”

They didn't know how to do this soft, caring stuff. Their dad never let them be soft, always said that being soft and crying turned men into pussies. But ever since Mickey fell in love with Ian he let himself be like that, be vulnerable. He found out that it was incredibly liberating to let his guard down once in a while and show the other person who he really was. Ian had once told him, a couple of days after he came back, that it was a brave thing to fall in love and ask the other person to love you back. Mickey finally understood.

“Nothin' to tell. I did what I did and he did what he did and that's pretty much it.” Mickey took a long drag and gave the blunt back to Iggy.

And it could have been that he was still slightly buzzed from the previous night and that being like that always got him talking too much, or the sudden memory of that nickname from when him and Iggy were just brothers running around, playing hide and seek or whatever they could think of before their father came home from his drug runs. Or maybe it was just the opportunity to be honest with someone for once in his life.But whatever it was, it got Mickey to open up to his brother in a way he never thought he could.

“Well what do you want me to say? That I'm mad at him for leaving like he did? That I'm drinking all the time just to keep my mind busy enough to stop thinking about him? About his stupid face and those stupid big eyes. His eyes man, Jesus Christ those eyes… they could see right through you, y'know? I mean, you could… you could pretend and bullshit him all you wanted but he would just smile back at you like a fucking retard and you'd know you were fucked because you could see that he was on to you… And when he got sick, and I couldn’t do jack shit about it, y'know? It broke my heart man.”“ Mickey slammed his fist into his chest couple of times, making his brother cringe.

“Shit bro, I never knew how serious it was. I mean I kinda figured it out that you wouldn't just come out the way you did if it wasn't right, but I didn't know you felt like that.”

“Well, took me by surprise too, believe me. Never thought I'd be like, happy or whatever. And with a dude… Go figure, huh…  Guess it doesn't matter anymore.”

“Look, you know I know nothin' about love or any of that sappy shit. I mean look at me, living with a girl for her money and dreaming about banging her old lady. How fucked up is that, huh?”

“Well doin' fucked up shit is kinda our family motto, right?”

“You certainly have the message tattooed all over your hands. We made sure of that, didn't we?”

“Yeah…” Mickey ran his fingers across his knuckles and turned to face Iggy. “Think it'll get better? Y'know, some day?”

“Fuck if I know. But you gotta stop drinkin' man. You got a baby now, think about that.”

“Yeah I guess.” Mickey  shrugged.

“Well, I gotta go, got an early shift today. Some new faggot down at the factory got us all under his booth,” Iggy said and then realized what he said. “Shit man, I didn't mean it like that…”

“'S alright, don't worry about it,” Mickey waved him off.

“Guess I'm gonna have to scrap that word out of my vocabulary. See, I can say Vo-ca-bu-la-ry,” Iggy repeated the word slowly like a kid and punched Mickey on the side of the head slightly. “And people say I’m dumb.”

“Yeah, yeah, go on now, Einstein. Next thing you know you're gonna be taking credit for inventing the TV.”

Both of them stood awkwardly on the front porch, Mickey extending a hand for a shake and Iggy opening his arms to give his brother a hug. They eventually settled for a quick hug and Iggy hopped off the stairs and turned around to face his brother once again.

“Fuck man, this whole having a fag for a brother thing is making me soft as hell. Gotta stop coming here if I want to keep my manhood intact.”

“Fuck you!” Mickey flipped him off but there was no real heat in his voice. His brother loved him and accepted him the way he was and he couldn't ask for more. He walked back into the house to take a shower. He was going to stop drinking, especially now that his brother had driven home the fact that  there were people who cared about him.

Chapter 5: It's ok to miss him, y'know?

Summary:

“Where is he?!” Mickey was yelling as he entered the Milkovich house fifteen minutes after receiving Svetlana’s phone call. “Where the fuck is he? I’m gonna kick his fucking ass! Motherfucking son of a bitch!”

Apart from Ian, Debbie was Mickey's favourite Gallagher. She was everything but a typical thirteen year old girl. She carried a shiv in her schoolbag in case she ran into her ex-boyfriend’s new girlfriend.

She dunked some girl under water for making fun of her in front of all her friends at public pool and almost drowned her. She even went to the extent of putting sand weights around her neck, just to be sure the bitch would get it through her head who she was messing with (Debbie wasn’t in any danger because like with everything she did, she got prepared).

She dated a twenty something guy because her slutty girlfriends told her it was about time she lost her virginity (which ended with her finally accepting that her virginity was hers and that she was the one who got to decide when and if she’s gonna lose it).

But what Mickey loved the most about Debbie was the fact that, out of all the Gallaghers, she reminded him of Ian the most.

She was honest and kind to everyone, like Ian. Caring and gentle, like Ian. She was always generous and loving, like Ian. Basically, she was one of the good people in this fucked up place. And she had red hair and a nose covered in freckles, just like Ian.

When he saw her on his doorstep, something inside of him twitched. Maybe it was the brightness of her red hair shining in the morning sun or the gentle smile she gave him as soon as he opened the door. The one that started in one corner and then slowly spread through the entire lips. Just like Ian’s.

“Hey, Mickey,” Debbie said, bouncing from foot to foot, probably trying to warm up.

“Hey,” he answered dryly. He opened the door wider and moved to the side to let her in.

“Jesus it’s cold outside,” Debbie said, taking off her gloves and puffing warm breath into her hands. She sat herself down on the couch and tucked her hands between her knees.

“Mandy ain’t here,” Mickey said, rubbing his lower lip with his thumb.

“It’s ok, I didn’t come here for her.” Debbie looked at him and her eyes had that same colour as Ian’s just seconds before he would start a serious conversation.

He went to the kitchen to grab a beer because no way he could do this thing sober.

“Wanna drink?” he asked her, opening a can of beer for himself and taking a sip.

“No thank you, I’m fine,” Debbie answered and turned to him when she heard him huff out a small chuckle. “What?”

“Nothin’, just... You’re so polite, y’know? Just like your brother. Always saying ‘thank you’ and ‘please’… Like a regular boy scout.” Mickey smiled around the bottle and slowly returned to the living room. Debbie tapped the place on the couch next to her silently inviting him to join her, so he put the bottle on the coffee table and sat down, leaning his elbows on his knees looking at the floor.

“It’s ok to miss him, you know? I do too.”

He nodded silently and she took his hand into hers. Her hand was warm and soft and it was a gentle gesture but made Mickey flinch because it was exactly the thing Ian would do to him. He always used to touch Mickey whenever he wanted, and without a reason at all. It was one of those things that always got Mickey wondering, because no one ever wanted to just touch him.

“Look Mickey, I know Lip and Fiona are blaming you for letting this happen and I know you know Lip never approved of you and Ian, but I just wanted to tell you that I don’t think he left because of you.”

He smiled at her innocence and honesty, another good quality she shared with her brother. He was still looking down as her grip tightened. He returned the gesture by softly rubbing her knuckles with his thumb, something he would find himself doing to Ian when they would just be watching TV or laying in bed after sex. Ian found it soothing.

“I still think you are the best thing that happened to him and no matter how things turn out in the end, no one can tell me otherwise.”

“Thanks,” he murmured after couple of seconds and she continued.

“You know, when Ian went missing the first time around and we didn’t know where he was, I told everyone we should go look for him. Maybe I sensed there was something going on with him, and I sometimes blame myself for not doing anything about it.”

“There was nothing you could have done anyway. It wouldn’t have stopped his illness from happening,” he assured her.

“Yeah but I could have told you and you could have gone to find him sooner and brought him home and none of this would be as big as it is now because if he got the right treatment maybe he wouldn’t have ended up at that place and-”

He stopped her when he saw tears forming in her eyes and he wasn’t far from shedding a couple himself.

“Don’t do that, don’t beat yourself up over it. What’s done is done, we can only hope that wherever he is , there is someone there to help him. Now,” he quickly changed the subject, “tell me about school. You doing ok there? Anyone giving you trouble? Because if they are you better tell me and I’m gonna have a word with them.”

She let go of his hand to wipe the tears away and smiled. “It’s all good, thanks, and if anyone was giving me trouble I think I would be able to ‘have a word with them’ myself.” She airquoted that last part and laughed with him.

God she reminded him so much of Mandy at that age.

They talked some more about Carl and Liam and she asked him about his son. Even Frank got mentioned a couple of times but then forgotten a second later. She looked at her watch and got up from the couch. “I gotta go, lot of homework.”

Mickey stood up and followed her to the door, but before he could open it, she gave him a quick peck on the cheek and wrapped her hands around his shoulders. His eyes widened and he swayed back a little because of this unusual gesture of hers, but just like he did with Ian, he let go and hugged her back.

“You tell me if some of the guys in school are bothering you. And if you ever need help with something, like math maybe, you know where to find me, ok?” He let go of her and she narrowed her eyes and gave him a questionable look. “What? It just so happens I’m good at math, ‘s all.” He shrugged and they both laughed. He opened the door and a rush of cold air entered the house, giving it a much needed refreshment.

“He’ll come back, you know? You just have to be patient and give him some time,” she said putting on her gloves and buttoning her coat.

“Yeah...”

“And if you ever need help with Yevgeny you know where to find me, ok?” She hopped off the stairs and waved at him before going in the direction of the Gallagher house. He waved her back but she was already around the corner.

He stayed there on the porch inhaling fresh air for couple of more minutes, watching her walk away. He got more and more fond of that redheaded girl each day.

  ***

 “So what’s your story?”

A young girl approached Ian from the right as he was sitting in the Rectory study room hunched over a notebook sister Sarah had given him. Ian liked it in here. It was quiet and peaceful and he was the only one here most of the time. He’d had some thoughts for awhile now, thoughts he wanted to save, but his head couldn’t hold everything in.He was just writing down an idea he had for a while now, about videogames and marketing benefits that could eventually come from that. He turned towards the voice.

“Excuse me?”

“Your story?” the girl repeated.

“I don’t have a story,” Ian said quickly and buried his face back into his notes.

“Get out of here, everyone has a story dude.” She pulled out a chair opposite of where he was sitting and slumped against it, chewing her bubblegum and making rather annoying sounds.

“Well I don’t,” he retorted. “Now would you please go away? I’m kinda in the middle of something here.”

She leaned on her elbows wanting to peek into his notebook, and tilted her head as she was trying to see what was so fascinating in there that kept him from talking to her.

“Do you mind?” Ian abruptly closed the notebook and sighed.

“Well excuse me Mr. Poe, didn’t mean to disturb your greatness.” She rolled her eyes and blew a bubble with her pink gum, the strawberry kind. Ian could smell it.

“Who are you even?” Ian asked, huffish. “How did you get in here? I thought the church was still locked. You’re looking for someone or just cruising churches searching for someone to bother? And how old are you? Do your parents know you’re here? Shouldn’t you be gettin-”

“Jesus what’s with the twenty questions dude?! Seriously?!” She shook her head and leaned back, putting her left leg over her right knee, shaking it a little.

“So? You gonna tell me who you are or am I gonna have to call someone?”

“Relax,” she said casually, drawing out the a sound. “I’m Catherine, but you can call me Cat. All my friends do.”

“Well Catherine, what are you doing here this early?” Ian asked tapping his left foot on the floor, getting more and more annoyed with the conversation.

“Same as you probably,” she said and bent down to tie the lace on her Dr. Martens.

“Christ, can you carry a normal conversation here?” Ian stood up ready to leave this, whoever she was, and hopefully finish writing down his thoughts before they all evaporated from his head.

“Hey, Ian, c’mon… I’m just messing with you. Come back, sit down.” She motioned to the chair where he had been sitting not a minute earlier.

“How did you know my name? And who sent you here?” He narrowed his eyes at her but sat back on the chair, still clutching his notebook.

“Who sent you here?” she mocked. “What are we, in a spy movie? You’re funny, dude.”

“No need for name calling.” He raised his eyebrows and leaned back, getting himself comfortable for whatever this conversation was gonna be about.

“Well if that’s the meanest you’ve been called I hate to think what made you leave your family and give up on them?” He noticed how her face went from playful and goofy to more serious within seconds. “Seriously, what’s your story?”

“No story, I just got fed up with everything and left.”

“What’s ‘everything’?” she insisted.

“Has anyone ever told you ask too many questions?”

“Yeah, all the time,” she smirked. “But how would I know things if I didn’t ask questions?”

Ok, that made sense, Ian thought. But it still bothered him how she knew who he was.

“So how do you know my name?” he tried again.

“Aaron told me. Two days after we found you outside in the snow,” she said with a shrug and watched his questionable look.

“You found me?”

“Well not me technically. I was with Aaron when they brought you in.”

“Who’s ‘they’?”

“Let’s see,” she tilted her head up and put a forefinger under her chin, like she was trying to think and remember something. “There were James, Mark aaaaand, I think Donnie. Yep, James, Mark and Donnie.” she returned her gaze back to him and continued, “Man, you were so blue and cold, we thought you were some street kid that OD-ed or something.”

“Ha ha, very funny,” he retorted. “So you still haven’t told me who you are and what you’re doing here.”

“Like I said, my name is Cat and I’m a runaway just like you.”

Cat was a fifteen year old girl with dark hair and brown eyes that were so big but unfortunately didn’t stand out on her face because of too much eyeliner around them. She was dressed in all black save for the grey plaid shirt tied around her waist. She had skinny legs and her Dr. Martens looked about two sizes too big on her feet. Her face looked soft and as much as she tried to come off as a bad girl, and despite the nose ring and pierced tongue, she couldn’t have fooled Ian. He saw that she was just a gentle teenager whose life didn’t pamper her.

“So what did you run away from?” Ian asked, starting to relax a bit.

“Not ‘what’, who,” Cat corrected and her eyes took a sad look. Ian presumed it was a painful topic for her to talk about. “My stepdad. He’s a dick.”

“Shh… You’re not suppose to curse in here,” he leaned towards her trying to shush her but she just waved him off.

“You wanna hear my story or not?”

“Alright,sure. Go on, I’ll be quiet. No more interruptions,” Ian promised and leaned on his elbow on the table and crossed his legs under the chair.

“Anyway, as I was saying before someone interrupted me,” she raised a brow at Ian and he rolled his eyes at her, “My dad died when I was seven and my mom married this Carter dude a year later. I mean a year later! Makes me wonder if she ever loved my dad in the first place. So when I turned ten, he threw me a birthday party, with cakes and bouncing castles and costumes and all. It was great and I thought that maybe he wasn’t all that bad, y’know?”

She went silent for a couple of seconds and started picking her nails and Ian sensed her story was about to take an ugly turn.

“Look, if it hurts too much you don’t have to-”

“No, I’ll be ok,” she shook her head and continued. “Anyway, that evening after everyone had left and my mom went to take a shower, he came to my room and asked me if I liked my party. Of course I said yes, I mean what kid would not like to spend all day playing with her friends and all those new toys. Right? So he said that there would be even more presents and days like that for me if I did something to him.”

Cat stood up turned away from Ian and wrapped her arms around her chest like she was that little girl again trying to shield herself from evil. Her voice sounded broken the next time she spoke.

“So I did, and five years later I got tired of pretending and lying to everyone and got sick of myself, so I ran away.” She turned to face Ian. “And that’s it. My story. So let’s hear yours now.”

 “But how did you end up in this place?”

“Sister Sarah saw me going through the dumpster one day, I hadn’t had anything to eat for two days and I noticed one guy throwing away his half eaten sandwich and I went to fish it out. So she brought me here and I’ve been here ever since. Which is around two months, I think.” She sat back down and leaned closer to him. “Now you.”

Ian rubbed a hand against his forehead and thought about the best way to explain to her how fucked up his life  had become.

“Um… I fell in love, it ended up badly, we broke up and I ran away, got back home and we started again, I got sick and ran away again,” he said drily.

“Geez, for someone who sits here all day and writes his thoughts or whatever it is you write in that book of yours, you sure are eloquent.” She laughed and kicked his foot with hers. “C’mon, there’s got to be more than that. So let’s hear it,” she urged him on.

“Look, you wanna know how sad my life was from the day I was born? Or how it got sadder when I found out that my siblings were actually my half brothers and sisters because my mom had this thing where she liked to fool around and somehow ended up in her brother-in-law’s bed? So nine months later, voila! The world has gained yet another poor child determined to struggle through life. Or... or how someone somewhere out there thought that my life isn’t really messed up enough, so they said: ‘What can we do to make this poor boy suffer even more in life? Oh, yes! Why don’t we make him gay in the most homophobic place on earth. That should do it! And we’ll add some mental illness on top of that! What do we have, hmmm, I know- how about a bipolar disorder? After all, we gave it to his mother too.’” Ian got up and kicked the chair on the floor with a thud, making them both flinch.He was thankful that no one else beside them was here.

“So you’re gay. Big effin’ deal, least you didn’t have your stepdad come to your bed every night to ‘spend some quality time’ with you.” She air quoted the last part again and put her hands on her hips in exasperation. “Look Ian, we all have some s-h-i-t in our lives, but we are learning to deal with it every day. We just have to be patient and persevere, that’s all.”

Ian turned to face her and started laughing, clapping his hands.

“Well said, Dr. Phil., well said indeed.”

“Shut up bit-” she almost blurted out a word she wasn’t suppose to because she remembered where she was, but it was said with laughter, so she figured Ian wouldn’t have been offended anyway. “You know what I think Ian? We are gonna get along just fine.” She nodded and high fived him before they both went to do their own thing.

  ***

  He was at the Alibi for the first time since Ian had taken off. It’d been a month already and he knew he couldn’t do anything to stop all the sad and pitiful looks people threw at him wherever he went, but life had to go on or some shit, he kept telling himself.

Kev was the first one he saw when he entered the place and, just like every other time before that, Kev greeted him with a smile on his face.

“Hey, there’s my silent partner! Where’ve you been, Milkovich?” Kev stood behind the bar wiping a glass. He threw the towel over his shoulder and extended a hand for a shake, which Mickey took. “I thought we lost you man. If it wasn’t for your wife we wouldn’t have known you were still alive.”

“Still here, alive and kickin’,” Mickey said and sat himself on his usual stool. Tommy was there too, because of course he was. Mickey wondered if the guy even had a home to go to. He gave Mickey a small nod and opened his mouth like he was gonna say something, but then shut it before putting it to his glass.

“Look, I know you all know what happened and all, and I don’t want any sad pathetic looks, alright?” Mickey looked between Tommy and Kevin and lit up his cigarette. “So all this ‘Boo-fucking-hoo poor Mickey, got dumped by the same guy after taking the beating of his lifetime for him’ better not happen or I’m gonna start kicking some ass around here, understood?” He raised his eyebrows and when the two men nodded in understanding, he tapped Kevin to get him a beer.

“Look Mickey, I said it before, no one gives a shit who you fuck, but break-ups are ugly every time. So if you ever wanna talk to someone about it, I’m always here man.” Kevin filled a glass with beer and handed it to him with a small wink. “I mean, I dunno much about gay love or gay sex so my experience is kinda limited in that section, but like I said. You know where to find me.”

Mickey flipped him off but nodded in appreciation nonetheless.

Tommy raised glass and simply said, “Here, here,” before downing it.

It was about three hours later when he heard that annoying tone on his phone go off. It was some stupid song Ian made him listen to a couple of times before it actually got stuck in his head and he just couldn’t find it in himself to change it.

“What?!” he yelled after clicking the answer button.

“You come home now,” Svetlana said and Mickey instantly regretted not taking the time to check the screen’s caller ID, otherwise he would’ve definitely not answered.

“What now? I already gave you everything I had.” Mickey sighed and shook his head.

“I don’t need money, idiot. You need to come home. King Kong beat your sister again. Blood everywhere,” Svetlana said calmly and before she even had a chance to finish he hung up and was out the door in a second.

***

  “Where is he?!” Mickey was yelling as he entered the Milkovich house fifteen minutes after receiving Svetlana’s phone call. “Where the fuck is he? I’m gonna kick his fucking ass! Motherfucking son of a bitch!”

Svetlana stood at the threshold of her and Nika’s bedroom smoking, shushing Mickey because she just managed to get Yevgeny to sleep. The kid was colicing and kept them all up most of the nights.

“He’s gone. Your sister threw a bowl at his head and he ran out. Maybe to hospital, he was bleeding a lot.” She shrugged her shoulders and moved away from the door, closing it as she walked towards the bathroom.

“Mandy?” Mickey asked angrily, his nostrils wide while taking off his coat.

“Bathroom,” Svetlana said and pointed to the kitchen floor. “Don’t worry, it is mostly his, your sister did him good.” There was blood everywhere, it looked like someone slaughtered a pig or something. His stomach turned upside down and he ran towards the bathroom and kicked the door open.

Mandy was sitting on the edge of the tub, holding a damp towel over the right side of her face. Her shirt was ripped and bloody, her hair was ruffled and she was crying. There was blood splattered all over her jeans and the hand that held the towel was shaking. A few freshly made bruises already shone around her wrist. It made Mickey’s heart stop and his breath catch in his lungs. She was his little sister and he swore after that first time Kenyatta hit her, that he wasn’t gonna let her cry anymore.

“Jesus Christ Mandy,” he sighed and moved towards her. “The fuck did he do to you?”

“It looks worse than it is Mick, really,” Mandy whispered and winced when he tried to take the towel from her hand.” Besides, I kind of brought it on myself. It wasn’t all his fault. I said some stuff I shouldn’t have, no wonder he lost it.”

 “Brought it on yourself? Fuck Mandy, are you even hearing yourself right now?” Mickey raised an eyebrow at his sister and paced around the small bathroom. “What’s he gotta do for you to get it? Kill you?”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Jesus! I’m not some fucking charity case you feel like helping, alright? I can take care of myself.” Mandy turned away from her brother as he tried to reach for her.

And Mickey knew that what she said was true.She put up with so much shit in her life, shit some other girls couldn’t even conceive, but Mandy always made it through on her own. Even right now, as she was bleeding in their bathroom, she was too proud to ask for help. Mickey admired that quality in his sister but now was not the time for her to be neither stubborn nor proud.

He sat down next to her and turned her face towards him with his hand. “For God’s sake, we need to get you checked. You’ll have to have some stitches on that. Looks like he broke your cheek bone.”

She batted his hand away but Mickey insisted. “Why don’t I call that black chick, Kev’s wife, what’s-her-name? Wasn’t she a nurse or something? Please?” he asked and after couple of more minutes of persuading Mandy finally caved in.

  ***

  “Ay, can you talk?” Mickey asked into his phone. After receiving an affirmative answer from his brother, Mickey informed Iggy about the whole situation with Kenyatta and their sister.

Iggy knew this one guy that made a living out of breaking people’s bones. It was usually drug dealers paying him to break bones of some junkies that never paid their debts, or sometimes women would hire him to beat the crap out of their husbands after they found out the bastards were cheating. Ralph was the guy’s name and he owed Iggy a favour. Mickey thought it was as good a time as any to call in to collect.

“Ralph still owe you?” Mickey asked.

“Yeah, was saving it for somethin’ big. Why?”

“Need to break some bones.”

“Who?”

“Kenyatta, y’know, Mandy’s gorilla.”

“Fuck he do?”

“Used her for a punchin’ bag, the fuckhead, that’s what.”

“Shit. Where’s the fucker at?”

“Ran like a bitch after Mandy hit him with a bowl. Broke his nose at least.”

“Damn, the girl sure is a Milkovich.”

“Yeah.. She’d be fucking dead by now if she wasn’t. So how about that favor? ”

“Guess this is as big as it gets. Where’d he run off to?”

“Fuck knows. He’ll probably be at work later today though.”

“Okay. Consider it done bro.”

“Alright. Thanks.”

“Hey, everything ok with you man?”

“Yeah, ‘m good.”

 “‘Cause I’m here, y’know.”

“Yeah, thanks anyway.”

“Right. Well I guess I’ll let you know when it’s done. I’ll text you.”

“You do that. Later.”

“Later bro.”

There was a message from Iggy in his inbox five hours later. It simply said:

*King Kong has left the building.*

Chapter 6: He'll be better off without me

Summary:

It was disgusting, the way this old pervert was sliding his hands down Ian's hips, gripping them tight and trying to press Ian down hard onto his crotch. He paid for his third lap dance this evening and specifically asked for “the ginger boy”.

“So where did you live before you ran away?” Ian asked Cat before biting into his cheeseburger. They were sitting on the bench behind the rectory, just casualy chilling, enjoying the morning sun. It was cold but it had finally stopped snowing after eight long days and they were just happy to be able to be outside.

Cat was right, they did get along pretty well. She was also staying at the rectory along with seven other people; four guys and three girls. They were all runaways and had  similar stories, and they would sometimes hang out together with Father Aaron or on their own.

Ian was surprised at how interesting and funny Aaron was. He wasn’t that much older than some of the guys in there, and he had unusually modern views of life.

He told them that his favourite band was the Rolling Stones and that his favourite movie was Raging Bull. They would all play football on the playground behind the church. There was also a basketball court and it was opened to everyone who wanted to just hang out there. Cat said that sister Sarah told her that before Aaron came to their, parish there was nothing there. He urged the community to build a place where everyone that had problems could come and find peace and comfort.

The guys there would usually play football while the girls sat on benches and played with their phones. Ian and Cat always stayed separate from the others because Ian liked to work out in the fresh air and he also enjoyed her company. She was smart and witty and always had a comment for everything he said. He would look at her sometimes, when they were doing the dishes (Aaron gave everyone some chores and Cat and Ian ended up with doing dishes) and his chest would tighten because of how much she reminded him of Mandy. God, he missed Mandy so much.

“Why you asking?” Cat wondered and took a sip from her bottle of Sprite.

“I dunno, just making conversation I guess.” He shrugged his shoulders and shook off some bread crumbs that ended up on his shirt.

She seemed like she didn’t want to answer his question so Ian thought he better drop the subject. Just as he was about to start a different kind of conversation, Cat spoke. “North side. And before you start, no, I’m not floating in money. It’s Carter’s apartment.”

“Think you’re ever gonna go back someday?”

“God no.” She shivered with disgust. “Why would I run away and then go back to that hellhole? I’m trying to put that part of my life behind me. Maybe just to see my mom, but I haven’t really thought about it. How about you? You thinking of going back?” she asked, playing with the label on her bottle.

“I dunno. Maybe. Not yet though, it’s too soon.” Ian got up to throw the paper napkin into a trash bin in the corner of the yard. Cat got up as well and followed him there.

“It’s been a month, and from what you’ve told me, your family seems like a nice one. Plus, they love you and having a loving family is a luxury nowadays.”

“‘S not my family I was referring to.” He lowered his head and rubbed a hand against  his forehead. “Look, I don’t want to talk about it, ok?”

“You mean, you don’t wanna talk about him, right?”

Ian turned to face her and sighed. In the past month they’d become really close and sometimes it felt like Cat could see right through him. Like she understood him perfectly, and even if he wouldn’t want to answer her at times, she would see his answer in his eyes. Like this time.

A week after they first met, Ian told Cat about Mickey. It was only because she wouldn’t stop following him around and she always made that stupid puppy dog face and Ian tried hard to resist the urge to tell her to go fuck herself. But he kind of got used to having her around and he even liked it. As much as she pissed him off, he was happy he found a friend in her.

He told her about the time he went to retrieve Kash’s gun from Mickey’s house and they ended up having sex. And the time he first realised he was in love with Mickey. And about their first kiss and everything that followed. She said that he was a pussy for leaving like he did and that Mickey deserved to know where he was and why he did it. And it was true, Mickey did deserve to know, maybe even more than his family did. But he knew it would be too painful for both of them. Besides, Mickey was free now, he was out and could easily find someone better that Ian. Or at least someone normal and balanced.

“Let’s just drop it.” Ian turned away from her and headed for the rectory.

“Ian, you cannot worm your way out of this without at least saying a proper goodbye to him. Don’t you think he deserves that much?”

“Trust me, he’s better off without me.”

“Says who? You?”

“Why do you care so much? This is my mess and I don’t need anyone telling me what I should and shouldn’t have done.” He stopped to face her again. “I chose to leave, me. And if and when I decide to go back it would be because I made that decision.” He slapped his hand against his chest to emphasise everytime he said I, and hoped that Cat would get the message and their conversation would end. But she just had to push and push and Ian somehow knew it was far from over.

“But it wasn’t just your decision to make, was it? I mean, if you two were in this together then you both had to decide whether to stop or continue your relationship.”

Ian went silent and Cat took that as an encouragement to continue.

“Jesus Christ I’m only fifteen and the only relationship I had so far was with my goldfish, but I still understand some things better than you.” She shook her head at him while he stood there with his eyes glued to the floor. “I know when two people love each other, I can tell from their eyes. And from the way yours shine when you talk about him it is obvious even to a fool that you love him a lot and from everything you told me he must love you too or he wouldn’t have done the things he did. He risked his life for you, what more proof do you want?”

“I know he loves me and I don’t need any proof of that, it’s just… I’m not me anymore. I’m not the guy he fell in love with. I was in bed for three weeks for God’s sake!” Ian raised his arms in exasperation. “You think you would want to spend your life with someone who doesn’t even notice you are there half the time? Someone who you have to take care of for the rest of your life? Like a freaking baby?”

“If I loved them, yes.” Cat nodded and crossed her arms over her chest, staking her claim, standing firmly in place.

“Believe me you wouldn’t. You may say that now but I’ve seen what this thing does to a person. And after some time you’d run away faster than you can say‘bipolar’.”

“So? Mickey didn’t fall in love with your health. He fell in love with you. I don’t know why, to be honest, ‘cause you can be so effin’ annoying sometimes,” she laughed and he rolled his eyes.

“You should talk,” he muttered under his breath but loud enough for her to hear.

“However...” she raised an eyebrow before continuing, “...damn, where was I?... Oh, right. Look, you’ve done this whole love thing before and you know that when people fall for someone, they fall for the whole package. Not just the pretty stuff. It’s loving someone when they’re sick so you drive them to a hospital and you end up waiting in the hall for like, three hours but you hang in there because you don’t want to miss that look in their eyes when they see you’d stayed. Or when they get drunk and throw up but you don’t look away, you hold their head above the toilet seat and wipe the sweat of their forehead. And especially if they are this stupid and boring and stubborn like you are being right now but someone still wants to spend his life with you.”

“But I’m not drunk and I don’t have a fever. I’m mentally ill. It’s the worst kind.”

“Yeah, but you are alive. You don’t have cancer like my dad did, and you are not confined to a hospital bed. You can stand on your own feet and still do everything you did before with proper medication.”

“True, but do you have any idea how much those meds cost? And my family isn’t exactly rolling in cash. And Mickey has a son he needs to be spending money on, not me.”

“Well why don’t you let Mickey decide how he wants to spend his money. And while you’re at it, go get yourself checked. Maybe it isn’t bipolar.”

Ian was looking at this broken teenager in front of him and wondered what kind of horrible things this girl went through other than what she told him. Because no one that wasn’t hurt talked like that.

“Are you sure you’re only fifteen?” he asked her narrowing his eyes.

“Are you sure you’re really ill? ‘Cause you seem just like a plain shithead to me.” She playfully punched him in the shoulder and he theatrically rubbed the place with his hand. “What a softie… Jesus, I think I have a headache and my mouth is dry from all this talking. Man, I can’t wait to meet Mickey, ‘cause I have to ask him what in hell made him fall for your annoying ass. God you’re exhausting.”

“Please, like you don’t love it.”

“Shut up.” She pressed her fingers on her temples and started making circles. “Better make yourself useful and go ask Aaron for an aspirin or something. My brain’s gonna explode.”

“Wow, you have a brain?”

“Yeah, unlike you... Race you to the house, smartass?” she asked, and before he could tell her what a baby she was, they were already running.

  ***

  It finally stopped snowing and Iggy used the good weather as an excuse to walk to work. Joanne, the girl he was living with, refused to give him her car after he crashed it for the third time so he contemplated between taking the L or enjoying the first sunny morning in weeks. It wasn’t like he wanted to walk three blocks but after yesterday’s drunkenness he decided that some fresh air would do good on his body. He took a shortcut through some narrow alley and was standing on the sidewalk waiting to cross the street. He took a cigarette out of his jacket pocket and lit it, puffing the smoke with his head tilted back.

He crossed to the other side and continued through the park, before he got to the crossroad only a block away from the construction site he worked at. There was a noise coming from the left side of the street, Brakes screeched and he turned to see what was going on. A car ran over a cat, but the poor thing recovered in a second and ran away. But what caught his intention was a redheaded man standing in front of a church talking to a priest. They were laughing and the priest was pointing to the restaurant just across, and when the man turned around, Iggy muttered, “Holy fuck!”

Because the man was none other than his brother’s boyfriend, Ian Gallagher.

Iggy could clearly see him, they were only a street apart, and he thought about calling out for him but before he opened his mouth both men had already entered the church.

Why was Gallagher talking to that priest? What was he doing in front of a church in the first place? The Gallaghers never seemed to be religious people, at least not from what Iggy knew about them.

He ran across the street and got to the church door, but before his hand had reached for the knob he promptly pulled it away. If Gallagher left his family and the guy he supposedly loved, maybe he didn’t want to be found after all. There was no other explanation as to why Ian wouldn’t have at least called someone and told them where he was.

For whatever reason, Iggy decided to turn around and forget ever seeing him.

  ***

  Father Aaron was sitting in his office working on his computer when Cat entered, carrying a tray with a little bowl of chocolate cookies and a cup of strong, black coffee. It was four in the afternoon and his usual break time. He moved his laptop to the side and she put the tray down, careful not to spill coffee over the rim of the cup. He thanked her and took a sip, put the cup down and reached for the cookie. She stood there nervously playing with the hem of her shirt and opened her mouth as if to say something, but promptly decided not to bother the man so she turned toward the exit. The priest  noticed that something was bothering her.

”You wanted to say something?” he asked quietly.

If Father Aaron knew one thing in his life, it was reading people. He knew when they were nervous or afraid, or when they wanted to tell the truth but felt ashamed and guilty. But most of all. he knew young people. Ever since he came to this parish, more and more teenagers started coming to church. Not everyone was religious and attended services; most of them came to play basketball or soccer, but it was a step in the right direction.

Aaron had prompted the congregation to its feet, so to speak, and in the short amount of time he’d been there, they had acquired eleven computers and enough funds to build a large playground and a sports hall next to the rectory. His wish was to keep youngsters off the streets and to create a place where everyone would feel the same, regardless of social status, money and origin. He was not well received by his older colleagues, but that did not matter to him as long as there were less and less drugs and violence with each day.

A girl like Cat was easy to read: always honest and sincere, and despite everything she’d gone through in life, her eyes never lost that innocent, girlish glow.

“I was just wondering if you’ve seen Ian maybe?”

“Did you check his room? Or a computer room?”

“Yeah and he’s not there. In fact I’ve been looking for him since this morning.” She sounded concerned and the priest knew something was happening with Ian, because in his month of staying there, he and Cat were never separated. Sister Sarah used to say they were like an  old married couple, always fighting over silly things but staying together nonetheless.

“Well, what does Sister Sarah say? It’s laundry day so she must have seen him when she went into his room to change the sheets.” The man got up and came to stand in front of her with his arms crossed over his chest and a worried look in his eyes.

“She said he wasn’t in his room and that the clothes you gave him were missing along with his other stuff. It looks like he took everything with him except his notebook and left. But I know he wouldn’t just leave without telling us.” Cat knew Ian always carried that notebook around, so it was clearly a sign that something was wrong. “And he was acting kinda strange these past few days,” Cat said and it got Aaron’s attention.

“How strange? I never noticed anything,” the priest wondered. But come to think of it, Ian did seem a little distant lately and spent most of his time running and working out, even more than usual.

“Well he was more physically active, like he had more energy and was all pumped up,  and he was more rude to me. You think it’s his illness getting worse?”

When Ian first confessed to having a bipolar disorder, Aaron knew it required some medicine. There were a lot of doctors and pharmacists in his congregation so he managed to get Ian checked and they gave him some Depakote and Tegretol along with Clozaril and Zyprexa, and some antidepressants too. The doctors said it was more likely for him to experience an acute mania next, since he had been in severe depression for almost a month. The priest was never sure if Ian was actually taking the meds. He figured that Ian was old enough to know the possible  consequences of refusing to take them.

“I really, really hope he was taking his meds to prevent a manic stage... who knows what could happen otherwise.” He shook his head in concern and ushered Cat through the door. “I will go help you look for him Cat, let’s see if the others have seen him maybe.” He closed his office and headed towards the playground with Cat.

  ***

  It was disgusting, the way this old pervert was sliding his hands down Ian's hips, gripping them tight and trying to press Ian down hard onto his crotch. He paid for his third lap dance this evening and specifically asked for “the ginger boy”. Ian remembered him from the time when he first started dancing at White Swallow. He said his name was John Smith (how convenient) and that he was just passing through Chicago. But after that first time the guy kept coming back every day and always asked for Ian. He was old and smelled like sweat and fried chicken and onions, and his breath made Ian want to throw up. But he was a good tipper, Ian could have lived on his tips alone.

That was what he was thinking about now, face turned away from him as he grinded his crotch against the visible bulge in the guy’s pants.

“You seem awfully quiet tonight, Curtis,“ John said, trying to hook his thumbs under the waistband of Ian's shorts. Ian slapped his hands away and smiled politely.

“A lot on my mind,” he said, continuing to grind against him.

“Need something to lift you up?” John raised an eyebrow and reached into his shirt pocket, opening his palm to revealed a small blue pill. “C’mon, take it. Don’t want you falling asleep on me. Not yet anyway...” He winked at Ian and Ian prayed to God for a meteor to hit this place and save him from mistakes he knew was about to make, but felt like he had no power to control them.

“No, I’m good, thanks. I just need some rest, that’s all. It’s been a crazy month for me.” Ian shook his head but kept his gaze on the small pill in the guy’s hand.

“Don’t be afraid Curtis, we’ve done this before,” the guy urged. He brought the pill to Ian’s mouth and nudged it open with his thumb. “Open wide...” He watched as Ian’s  lips parted and he slowly slid the pill into his mouth, waiting to hear Ian swallow it. “There. You’ll feel better in no time.” John placed his hands back on Ian’s hips and leaned back to fully enjoy the moment.

  Ian woke up in an unfamiliar place yet again, but at least this time it was somewhere decent and nice. The bed was comfortable and big, and the pillow was probably one of the softest his head had ever slept on. Everything was in light yellow save for the white linen he was covered in. He was in his boxers and his clothes were scattered all over the white, fluffy carpet. He took a quick look around the place and it was as if he had been here before. It wasn’t until he heard a familiar voice that he remembered where he was and how he got here.

“Are you decent?” Brian asked and entered the room carrying a small tray with a cup of coffee and some cookies. He placed it on the bedside table and opened the curtains. Ian squinted, slowly adjusting his eyes to the morning sun.

“What time is it?” Ian asked with a yawn and covered his head with a pillow. It was pounding like crazy and he pressed the pillow down.

“Ten. Well, I need to go to work so I’m trusting you not to do anything weird in my apartment, and that means no people over and no messing up the place while I’m out. Alright?” He gathered Ian’s clothes from the floor and neatly placed them on the edge of the bed. He started to walk out of the room but stopped on the threshold and turned his head towards the bed. “Listen Ian, I know I told you you could crash here for a while, but you really need to put yourself together and decide what you want to do with yourself. You can’t avoid your family and Mickey forever. The least you owe them is an explanation.”

“I don’t owe them anything.” Ian got up and reached for his pants. “Besides, they’re better off without me. Everyone is better off without me,” Ian said, and the sad part was that it was probably true. Because when he thought about it, it would always come down to money. Fiona couldn’t afford to pay for groceries, let alone his meds. And Mickey had more important things to spend money on. Like his son. The boy was just starting his life, and Ian did live to be eighteen, which was not so bad after all, so it was more important to allow Yevgeny to grow up to try and make something of himself. Not to end up broke and broken like his father.

Besides, it wasn’t like Ian was in such a bad condition that he needed to be put in a hospital. So he snapped a couple of times, so what? With all the shit that had happened to him in the last year, it was a miracle he’d lasted this long.

“JESUS LEAVE ME ALONE!”

The words he’d yelled at Mickey echoed in his mind. He suddenly felt sick and quickly zipped his pants before shoving Brian aside running  past him to the bathroom. He suddenly vomited, puking his guts out into the bowl until there was nothing left to heave out.. He splattered some cold water onto his face and felt a pang of pain, causing him to grab the sink with such force that his knuckles turned white. The next thing he knew, Brian was holding him while he tumbled onto the floor, clutching his side while crying.

Chapter 7: Here we go again

Summary:

Ian was exiting the building carrying a backpack, accompanied by a short brown haired man Cat could have sworn she’d already seen somewhere. It wasn’t until both men darted across the street heading in her direction that she remembered who the man was. It was Brian from apartment 7C, just one floor above where she used to live.

Chapter Text

Almost six days had passed since Ian disappeared without a word. The situation was especially hard on Cat, not only because they’d formed a strong friendship but also because he was the first one she told about the real reason for her stay in the rectory. Plus she’d kind of gotten to love the big dork. And eventhough he was stubborn as a mule and sometimes so goddamn difficult to be around, Cat couldn’t imagine her day without Ian anymore. He understood her like no one before ever had, he was the first guy that made her laugh and after all the horrible things that had happened to her, she hadn’t thought she’d be able to have a relationship with a man ever again.

It was her mother’s birthday today and despite everything she had been saying these past few weeks, she couldn’t bear to not see her mom again, even just for this one day. She knew Carter had work at ten in the morning on Thursdays, so she waited outside the building until she made sure the bastard had left.

The weather had turned cold again and it hadn’t stopped snowing since the prior night. She was standing across the street with trembling hands deep in her pockets, bouncing from heel to heel, watching as the smug bastard that was unfortunately her stepfather entered a taxi and went on his way. She felt a rush of disgust fill her body and had to refrain herself from the urge to vomit right there. Suddenly all the memories started flooding back and she thought that this was a bad idea so she turned around to leave when something caught her eye. She tilted her head slightly forward to get a better view and squinted to be sure that the lean form of the redhead in front of her was real and not just in her head.

Ian was exiting the building carrying a backpack, accompanied by a short brown haired man Cat could have sworn she’d already seen somewhere. It wasn’t until both men darted across the street heading in her direction that she remembered who the man was. It was Brian from apartment 7C, just one floor above where she used to live. After the initial sense of relief that overwhelmed her from learning that Ian was okay, some questions began to spin in her head.

What was Ian doing with Brian? What was he doing on the North side in the first place? Why didn’t he tell anyone he was leaving? Why didn’t he tell her that he was leaving? Did he call Mickey or even his own family to let them know he was alright? Was he alright?

She could not stand the suspense anymore and she knew she had to do something. She called his name his name several times but he did not hear her. After walking behind them for a couple of more blocks, she shouted once more.

“IAN!”

Her voice was muffled by the sound of screeching tires and a loud siren coming from a speeding ambulance, and before she could call to him again, she lost a sight of them. After looking around for couple more minutes she finally gave up and went back to the church. At least now she knew where he was.

***

  Iggy Milkovich wasn’t a particularly smart person. Dropping out and not finishing high school had become sort of a family tradition for the Milkovichs, and the last thing he wanted was to disappoint his dad and actually make something of himself. And yes, Iggy may had been a petty criminal and a neighborhood hoodlum, but what people saw on the outside didn’t always reflect how things were on the inside. Iggy knew that much.

Living under the strong boot of pater familias Terry Milkovich meant obeying his rules without questioning them. It meant hating the same things his dad hated and loving the same things his dad loved (which wasn’t much except drinking, getting high and beating  people up).

Personally, Iggy always felt disgusted with himself after he and his brothers would steal the money rather than earn it or after they would beat up some poor schmuck for being brave enough to admit he was gay or had a different skin colour. Or for any other reason his dad decided they needed “the readjustment”. But disgusted or not, Iggy knew better than to go against Terry’s fists. He had seen plenty of times what they brought his younger brother every time Mickey asked questions he wasn’t suppose to be asking.

But despite what everyone thought about him, Iggy did know some things. He knew that fire needed oxygen in order to burn. He knew that E=mc2 isthe world's mostfamous equation, he knew that the guy who was condemned to push the rock up the hill every day over and over again was called Sisyphus (ok, he only knew that because his dad used to say he was doing a Sisyphus’ work every time Iggy or one of his brothers fucked up a drug deal and he had to go take care of it himself).

And he knew that for every action there was an equal and opposite reaction. And as he was standing outside of his old house with a hand half up in the air between himself and the door, he hoped that the action he was about to make would not draw the opposite reaction out of his brother.

Mickey opened the door after the third knock. He nodded and greeted his brother with a smile but Iggy felt nervous as hell. His palms were sweating under the fingerless gloves and suddenly the collar of his shirt became too tight as his lips formed something that barely resembled a smile.

Because how the fuck was he suppose to tell Mickey that he had seen his runaway boyfriend almost a week ago and hadn’t said anything until now?

“Hey,” Iggy nodded back and swallowed a lump he’d had in his throat for days now. He didn’t miss the confused look his brother gave him because they spoke over the phone just the day before and Iggy never mentioned anything about stopping by.

Truth be told, it was his girlfriend’s fault. She made him watch some stupid ass movie about this guy whose wife was ill and left him because she didn’t want him to suffer because of her. Anyway, after searching for her for two months he eventually stopped and a couple of days later they found her raped and beaten in some gutter twenty miles from her house. She lived but it was a sad story anyway. Iggy’s girl ended up crying through the entire movie and after the credits closed Iggy was left staring at the screen thinking about his brother. He knew that if he didn’t tell Mickey, he would never forgive himself if something happened to his brother’s ginger boy. And as soon as dawn came he was on his way to the old neighborhood.

Mickey stepped aside to let his brother in, giving him a quick hand shake after shutting the door. The house was quiet and somehow peaceful, not at all as it used to be when their dad was home. There weren’t as many clothes and empty beer cans or pizza boxes scattered over the floor as Iggy remembered, but it still wasn’t the cleanest house in town.

“What are you doing here?” Mickey asked befuddled and went to the kitchen to make them coffee.” Something wrong? It’s not even eight yet.”

Iggy thought a lot about how to begin. Should he sugar coat it a bit and make it seem like he just saw Gallagher yesterday or just come out and say it? But before he managed to open his mouth Mickey forestalled him.

“You came to see Mandy?”

“What? Oh, right, Mandy.” Iggy shook his head in bewilderment and mentally slapped himself for forgetting about what happened to his sister, even for one brief moment. “How is she?” he asked.

“Dunno, seems okay but is kinda quiet all the time, y’know?” Mickey shrugged and placed two coffee mugs on the table. He sat himself on the chair and motioned for Iggy to do the same.

Iggy took off his gloves and wrapped his hand around the mug, savoring the feeling of warmth on his cold fingers. “Did the bastard try calling her?” he asked and took a sip.

“Nah, not after Ralph gave him a total makeover.” Both men raised their mugs and toasted with a muttered “cheers”. Mickey lit a cigarette and opened his mouth as he was about to say something but Iggy was one step ahead of him, silently praying that his brother wouldn’t do too much damage to him for what he was about to say. He got up from the table and sighed. Fuck it, he thought, it’s now or never.

“Look Mouse, I need to tell you something and I need to say it right fucking now, ‘cause if I keep it in me any longer I might actually fucking combust.” Iggy paced around the living room looking at the floor, nervously rubbing his forehead to the point of hurting.

“Alright man, chill, what’s gotten into you?” Mickey asked startled.

“Well, I guess there’s no better way to say it than to just spit it out, right?” He looked at his brother and repeated it, waiting for an answer, ”Right?”

“The fuck are you going on about? Spit out what?”

“I saw your boy,” Iggy blurted so fast Mickey could barely catch up on it. He sighed in relief and reached into his pocket to grab a cigarette.

“You saw my bo… You mean Ian? You saw Ian?” Mickey gave his brother an utterly confused look. “When? Where?” he insisted and Iggy didn’t miss how his fingers clenched the mug.

“Now, don’t be pissed, I thought about this really hard and it fucking sucks that I didn’t tell you before but I just knew that you’d-”

“‘Before’? Before what? Why would I be pissed?” Mickey demanded. “Iggy, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“I was passing by that church on Michigan and Gallagher was standing outside with some priest, I dunno.”

“A church? You fucking with me? The fuck would Ian be doing in a goddamn church?” Mickey wondered.

“Dunno, but look, there’s something else.”

“Well? Jesus fucking Christ, would you just fucking spit it out already?!”

“It was last Friday,” Iggy said quietly and ducked for cover, waiting for a blow to the face at least.

“Last Friday? You mean like a week ago?”

“Yeah and I’m only telling you this because I don’t want him to end up raped in a gutter somewhere and I couldn’t live with myself if I knew and I… I…” Iggy sat back on the chair and nervously lit a smoke, still not looking at his brother. “Just… don’t kill me, okay?”

Mickey came to stand behind him and Iggy froze and braced himself for a blow that was surely coming his way, but got surprised when he felt a tap on the back. “‘M not gonna kill your stupid ass,” Mickey  assured him.” but you’re gonna calm down and repeat every fucking word you just said.” He sat down as Iggy began to talk.

  ***

  Father Aaron was sitting at his desk with a phone in one hand and the paper with Mickey’s number in the other, contemplating whether to dial it or not. Cat had informed him about seeing Ian the day before and he knew he had to call his family and at least tell them Ian was alive.

It wasn’t the first time he found himself in this type of a situation. Since they assigned him to this parish, Aaron had more than fifty stray kids staying in his church from time to time. And usually they would go back to their families or friends they were living with. Aaron didn’t want to come between them so he let them make their own decisions. All he could do was give them advice and support and a promise to provide them with shelter whenever they needed one.

But there was this one thirteen year old boy about seven months ago that Aaron just couldn’t leave alone. There was a constant reminder of his story on the wall of Aaron’s office. It was a small framed piece of paper ripped out of a notebook with the quotation: “You have all the weapons you need, now fight,” and a “Thank you,”  scribbled under it in Dennis’ handwriting. Dennis was from a small town about twenty miles from Chicago. Dennis’ mother remarried for the fourth time and his stepfather was everything but a good person. Dennis already had his share of strange and bad people coming and going out of his life. His mother’s taste in men was rather weird; she liked when they were strong and rough. So Dennis had witnessed on more than one occasion his mother being punched and called names. He knew he had nowhere else to go so he resigned himself with his situation and the only thing he could do was to turn his head and look the other way.

It wasn’t until he was thirteen and endured a terrible beating himself by his mother’s new husband that he decided enough was enough. He waited until they were asleep and grabbed a backpack with some clothes and left. He ended up squatting with some people in an abandoned building in the middle of Chicago, but since he had no money the only way to live through the day was to steal or sell his body. Three months after running away from his home he knocked on the church door and humbly asked for help.

Two months later, after receiving a phone call from Father Aaron, Dennis’ mother came to get him. Aaron arranged for her to get help in dealing with her alcohol addiction. Today Dennis and his mom were living in Chicago and attended Aaron’s service every Sunday morning.

The thing with Ian was different though, because unlike Dennis, Ian had a loving family and a person who was willing to fight for him despite his mental illness and everything he had gone through in life. So Aaron knew he had to get involved.

  Meanwhile, in the Milkovich household, Mickey was sitting cross-legged on his bed, scrolling through the gallery of his phone. There were a lot of pictures of Ian there that he took secretly when Ian would just be eating pizza while watching TV or making coffee wearing only Mickey’s boxers.

Mickey was engrossed in watching a video of Ian he made three days after his big coming out. Ian was on their bed then, sleeping. His lower half was covered by a thin white blanket and his red, tousled hair was spread across Mickey’s pillow. His mouth was slightly open and his eyes shut, hidden behind thick ginger eyelashes. Both his hands were splayed across his stomach and taut abdominal muscles, and every time his chest would rise Mickey swore he could see the outline of Ian’s beating heart.

The sight of Ian all serene and beautiful left Mickey wondering why in God’s name would someone so perfect willingly chose to be with him. He took his phone out of his pocket and started recording. A minute and a half later Ian stretched himself and opened his eyes, giving his boyfriend a soft, lazy smile. Mickey’s heart almost melted when Ian reached out for him so he put the phone aside before getting under the blanket and curling against his boyfriend’s warm body.

The sound of a phone ringing in the living room interrupted his reminiscing, leaving him teary-eyed and melancholy. It rang five times before someone picked it up. Mickey heard Mandy saying something about Mr. Milkovich not being here and he tried not to think about it too much. He lay down on Ian’s side of the bed and closed his eyes thinking about what Iggy had told him.

He was about to drift off to sleep when he heard the phone again. It rang and rang for a full minute before he realised that nobody was going to answer. He called out for Mandy but there was no sound from her, so he got up and reluctantly went to do it himself.

“What?” he huffed in annoyance.

“Yes, hello? Hi, um, I called earlier, about ten minutes ago but the young lady hung up the phone on me. I wanted to talk to Mr. Milkovich?” said the voice on the other side of the line. Just the mention of a certain Mr. Milkovich made Mickey’s stomach wrench and left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He simply responded, “He ain’t here.”

He didn’t miss the surprise in the voice on the other side when the person let out a questionable sigh. “Well do you know where he is, or when will he be back? I have some information that I’d like to share with him.”

“He’s in the can and hopefully he ain’t coming back at all. Who’s asking, anyway?”

“Oh right, I’m sorry, I haven’t introduced myself. My name is Aaron Roberts, I am a priest at St. Peter and Paul’s Catholic Church on Michigan Avenue. I apologize for the intrusion but I just wanted to talk to Mr. Mickey Milkovich. I have some information regarding a certain young gentleman named Ian Gallagher.”

Mickey’s breath got caught in his throat at the mention of Ian’s name and his heart started racing because this was it. This man on the other side of the wire had information on Ian. It all clicked now. The guy must have been that priest Iggy had seen talking to Ian, and it must have been fate because Iggy was at the house just this morning telling him about seeing Ian in front of the church. Mickey had already planned to visit the church later that afternoon. He must have been silent and lost in his thoughts for some time because he could hear the voice repeating, “Hello, are you there?”

“Yeah I’m here,” he answered. “I’m Mickey Milkovich.”

“Oh, alright then. As I said, I have information about your... um, partner. He was staying with us for over a month but unfortunately left six days ago without telling anyone.”

“Left? What do you mean ‘left’?” Mickey demanded. “Left where?”

“That’s why I’m calling, actually. Catherine saw him yesterday morning in front of a building on the North side. She tried to-” Aaron was cut off before he could finish.

“Who’s Catherine? And what building?” Mickey’s palms were sweating so much he could barely hold the phone in his hands without dropping it.

“Catherine is a young girl that is also staying with us and she is Ian’s best friend here.” It figured that Ian had a girl for a best friend, Mickey thought.

“Okay, but what’s this about a building? You said on the North side? Got the address maybe?” he asked and went to his nightstand to get a pen and a piece of paper.

“Yes I have the address but first I want to tell you that even though I’m not allowed to explain the reason why Ian was staying with us, I can say and Cat can confirm that he never stopped talking about you. And he told me what you did for him so I thought you should at least know where to find him. I didn’t tell his family, I leave that up to you.”

“You um, know? About me and him?” Mickey asked.

“Yes Mickey, I know about you and Ian. And I know that you love each other too much to just give up that easily,” Aaron said. “Look, in the month Ian had been here, he was given proper medication for his illness, but I can’t be sure he had been taking them every day. And if that was the case he could be experiencing a manic phase now. I think it’s not necessary for me to say what that would do to him.”

Mickey knew very well what the priest thought because he saw Ian in his manic phase even though he didn’t recognized it for what it was at that time. But whether Ian still wanted him or not he wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to make sure he was doing alright and taking his meds every day. He wrote down the address and put the paper in his pocket.

“I um, want to thank you for calling,” he said, “and for taking care of Ian.”

“Sure, no problem. We never say no to people who come to us for help, and I can assure you that Ian was very well accepted by everyone here,” Aaron said. “And if you or someone from your family ever need help with anything, you can always come to me.”

Mickey thanked the priest again and after agreeing on calling him with news about Ian  he hung up and headed out of the house.

  ***

  The building where Brian lived still looked the same. But of course it was, how could it be any different? The last time Mickey had been there was with Ian after they’d shared their first public kiss in the club.

It was perfect, the way their lips had met and their hands had reached for each other at the same time, with Ian holding him close to his body. It was like they’d had a lifetime of experience kissing, when in fact it had only been their fifth kiss.

The first one was probably the sloppiest and the shortest and it couldn’t really be considered much of a kiss, but once Mickey had gotten a taste of Ian’s sweet lips, he’d known he would soon be hungry for more. And wasn’t that the truth?

The rest of the night after that club kiss had been awkward, to say the least. The party had been all fancy and expensive, everyone was so clean and smug and so pleased with themselves. Mickey’d felt like a fish out of water, because not only had he dressed up (in the cleaner one of a total of two dress shirts he owned) but also because every person there had been some kind of manager or designer or photographer, and how could Mickey being a pimp compare to that? But strangely enough, people had accepted him and by the end of the night he’d actually started liking it. Besides, Mickey had known that this world existed out there but he’d never thought he was going to be a part of it one day. And for Ian, he would do anything.

Brian was an ok guy, Mickey didn’t have any problem with him. Although he was a little skeptical about how Ian had come to know him. Ian had said Brian was his regular but Mickey was always afraid to ask what sort of regular Brian really was. He was dreading the answer so he decided that it was better if he didn’t know.

Brian recognized him the moment he opened the door. They shook hands and sat down for a coffee. They talked about everything, from the party to Mickey’s coming out and Ian being in his bed for a month. Brian told him that Ian knocked on his door one morning asking if he could crash there for couple of days. Mickey felt a pain in his chest when Brian said Ian told him he didn’t want to be with Mickey anymore. But after finding out the reason why, that pain turned to anger and disbelief. How could Ian think Mickey would be better off without him?

  Mickey learned that Ian had returned to dancing in the same club, but was still staying at Brian’s. And that he was doing a little better than that first time he came here. Brian said he was making sure Ian would take his meds every day. He didn’t want to wait for him to come back from work. He decided to not waste any more time and he said goodbye and thanked Brian for everything he’d done for Ian.

Half an hour later he found himself standing in front of Fairytale with a lump in his throat.

Chapter 8: Tell me you'll always hate me

Summary:

"Fuck you," Ian said, his voice sounding broken, like he was crying. "Fuck you Mickey. You're a piece of shit." He dropped the bag and slowly moved his hands towards Mickey's face. "I wish I never met you."

Notes:

Ahem, so, 3k+ words smut in here... I'm joining the LetIanBottom movement Tessa started on tumblr. That being said,enjoy!

When Mickey entered the club  it was like déjà vu all over again. Couples grinding against each other, dancers on their little platforms in sparkling booty shorts, men ogling at them like the sun was shining out of their asses. Everything was the same but also different.

  Roger noticed him as soon as he walked in and greeted him with a nod. He pointed in the direction of the bar, inviting him to join him, and Mickey pushed through the crowd towards the bouncer.

  “Hey man, long time no see." Roger smiled and tapped the bartender, ordering a beer for Mickey. Mickey slid onto a stool, glancing around the place, trying to find any sign of red hair but kind of hoping Ian wasn’t there at the same time.

  “Hey,” he said dryly to Roger, nodding at the bartender as the latter passed him the glass. He took a sip and looked at Roger. The fucker had a smile on his face the size of the Grand Canyon and, despite being tall and bulky, Roger was just a big softie. Mickey found that out after talking to him one night while waiting for Ian to get dressed after his shift.

  Roger was a single father to five-year-old twin boys and worked as a security guard in some law firm. But after his wife was diagnosed with cancer he took on some extra work to pay for her medical bills because his paychecks just weren’t covering them. That was how he had ended up bouncing at Fairytale for almost two years now.

  “How’ve you been?” Roger asked with a smile.

  “It’s goin’,"  Mickey said with a shrug. “You? How’re the twins, still giving you a hard time?” he asked, knowing how much Roger enjoyed talking about them. Ever since his wife had passed away he was doing his best to raise them on his own. His mother jumped in on the weekends but he never missed an opportunity to text her and ask what they were doing.

  “Still being little shits. Y’know what Damon asked me yesterday?” Roger started laughing out loud, in that deep piercing voice of his. “I was just coming out of the bathroom in my boxers and he pointed at my chest and asked me why I had a beard there. How funny is that?” He was cracking and holding on to his stomach and Mickey wondered if he was ever going to have that kind of relationship with his own son.

  “Yeah? What’d you say?” he asked, instinctively reaching for the cigarette even though he couldn't light it indoors so he simply put it behind his ear.

  “What could I say? ’S not like there’s a book with all the answers. You just tell the truth, don’t lie to them. They’re smarter than you think.” Roger tapped a finger on his forehead and took his buzzing phone out of his jeans pocket. He typed a text and put it back in. “What ‘bout your kid? You two get along alright?” he asked.

  “Don’t know, don’t care,” Mickey shrugged.

  “Yeah, Ian had mentioned something like that," Roger sighed. It looked like he wanted to say something more but someone called his name so he followed the voice and turned his head towards one of the stages where some old geezer tried to grab one of the dancers. “YO, WE GONNA HAVE A PROBLEM HERE?" he yelled in guy’s direction and patted Mickey consolingly on the shoulder. “Don’t go anywhere man, lemme finish this thing and I’ll be right back, okay?”

  Mickey nodded and turned back to the bar, tipping his head to the bartender for another beer.

  Three refills and half a pack of cigarettes later, Mickey was finally feeling strong enough to face Ian, but the redhead was nowhere to be seen and it was weird, because at least an hour must have passed since Mickey had gotten to the club.

He got up  and downed  the rest of his beer. One of the guys that was dancing on the stage a minute ago came to stand in front of him and tapped him on the back as he slid onto his stool. Mickey recognized him as Leon (it wasn’t really his name but who gives a shit). Ian called him an asshole, something about him wanting to take over his shifts, but Mickey never really payed attention to Ian's endless talking when he was at the club; he was too busy getting old fuckers off of him.

  “Mickey, right?” the asshole asked with a grin.

  “What’s it to you?”

  The guy had been standing next to him not even a minute and Mickey was already annoyed by his presence.

  “Oh nothing, just wanted to make sure you’re on the market again, maybe we could, y’know, have some fun together…” And if wiggling eyebrows, batting his eyelashes at him and running his hands over Mickey’s shirt’s collar weren’t enough of a sign, then the guy’s knee pressing against Mickey’s thigh was a confirmation enough that he was definitely trying to get into Mickey’s pants. And maybe that would have impressed Mickey in the past, hell he would have even taken pride in getting some guy interested, but ever since Ian had come along there was no place for any other man in Mickey’s pants nor in his heart. Mickey thought there never would be. He shoved the asshole away and for a moment regretted the fact that the guy wasn’t wearing a shirt because he had nowhere to grab him, but settled for his knee eventually, hovering over him, eyebrows raised and teeth gritting.

  “Now you listen to me, shithead, and listen good. You ever touch me like that again, I swear I’m gonna cut your dick off and make you wear it ‘round your neck like a goddamn necklace. You do not want to fuck with me.”

  “Jesus, alright,” asshole said, struggling to release Mickey’s grip on his knee but wincing when Mickey’s fingers dug deeper into his skin once more, just to make a point. When he let go of him eventually, the guy wasted no time in getting the fuck away from him, but stopped when he was couple of feet behind Mickey.

  “No wonder Curtis left you. Who in their right mind would last one fucking day around your sorry ass...” he scoffed before dramatically flipping Mickey off and climbing back onto the stage.

  Mickey simply shook his head and threw some bills on the bar, nodding at the bartender and heading towards the toilets. It took only three steps for him to come face to face with his ginger boy exiting the back room wearing nothing but shorts and a glittering tank top.

  His heart jumped and his lungs hurt like the air was punched out of them and he didn’t miss how Ian’s shoulders tensed and his mouth opened in surprise. They locked eyes for couple of seconds before Ian turned his gaze away.

  “Hey,” he barely managed to choke out a breath. His eyes started watering and his hands were shaking because it had been over a month since he'd looked at those beautiful eyes and felt the warmth from Ian’s body and it is all too much for him. He didn’t care why Ian left, he didn’t care what he had been doing this whole time, he just wanted to take him home and lay him on their bed and kiss him, hug him, hold him tight in his arms until they both fell asleep.

  “Ian, c’mon man,” he pleaded and repeated it a bit louder when Ian turned his head away from him. “Fuck, don’t do this, c’mon, at least look at me.” And it all sounded so familiar and it hurt the same, just as it had that time on the roof when Ian had been the one doing the pleading.

  Ian crossed his arms over his chest and looked up, lips pressed into a thin, straight line and jaw clenched tight. His eyes bored into the man in front of him, sad green meeting even sadder blue. “What are you doing here?” he sighed.

  “Dammit Ian, what do you think?” Mickey asked and took a step closer to him. He flinched when Ian moved away until his back hit the wall behind him. “What, you afraid of me all of a sudden?”

  “I don’t have time for this, I gotta go back up,” Ian nodded towards the stages and pressed his palms against the wall like he was scared and in need of something firm to hold on to.

  “Well you’re not going fucking nowhere until you tell me why the fuck you did it,” Mickey demanded.

  “Forget about me Mick, go home to your son where you belong… ” Ian said, his voice almost a whisper. He pushed himself off the wall, trying to pass the brunet, only Mickey grabbed his wrist holding him in place.

  “I don’t belong there unless you’re there with me,” he whispered against Ian’s neck and tightened his grip when the redhead tried to wiggle free from him. “Come home with me man,” he pleaded against the soft skin.

  "You don’t want me there… ” Ian cried, trying to loosen up Mickey’s grip but at the same time desperately leaning against the brunet’s touch. “You think you do, but you don’t.”

  “You can’t tell me what to want,” Mickey spoke, nuzzling his nose into Ian’s hair, peppering soft kisses on the gentle skin behind his ear, “only I know what I want… and I want you. I want you so fuckin’ much… Come home with me.” The hand that was wrapped tightly around Ian’s wrist slowly climbed up Ian’s arm and Mickey could see the younger man shiver. But as Mickey let go of Ian’s arm and moved it towards his stomach Ian abruptly pulled away and turned his back on Mickey, nervously tapping his right leg on the floor, making Mickey’s arm fall back to his side.

  “That isn’t my home… ” he said with sorrow, “not anymore.”

  “Shit Ian, that’ll always be your home,” Mickey assured, “Whatever happens, okay?” When Ian didn’t respond, just kept staring at the wall, Mickey repeated, “Okay?”

  Ian turned to face him again and made a gesture with his hand indicating the center of the club. “Look at them, look at all of them out there… you are free to be with any of them now,” he suggested, “why would you bother with a nutcase like this?” he pressed his forefinger against his temple.

  “You say that again and I’ll kick your fuckin’ ass. You’re not a nutcase, alright?” Mickey raised his eyebrows at him and slapped his hand. “I don’t want you talking like that ‘bout yourself, you hear me?”

  “It doesn’t matter what you want Mick, it’s what I can’t let you - ”

  “Let me? You making decisions for me now? ‘S that it?” Mickey nodded in annoyance, “Well fuck you very much, I can decide for myself what I want and don’t want.” He pointed a finger at Ian and cried out, “And I want you… I want you”.

  “Yeah well I want to be sane and normal,” Ian shouted back, “but I guess not everyone can get what they want.” He stormed past a stunned brunet but before he could go any further Mickey turned him around, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him back. “Are you fucking kidding me? You’re just gonna fuck off like that and throw away everything we’ve been through? Like it was all in vain?” Mickey laughed sarcastically.

  “Well what do you want me to do? Huh? What do you want me to say?” Ian yelled.

  “Something, anything… Say that you don’t want to be with me if that’s how you feel, say that you don’t care,” Mickey demanded, his voice cracking more and more with every word that crossed his lips. "Say: 'Fuck you, fuck you Mickey. You're a piece of shit. I wish I never met you. I hate you.'”

  Ian looked at Mickey confused and opened his mouth like he was going to say something back but then Mickey witnessed him disappear behind the wooden door, not looking back once.

  He stayed there for couple of minutes, hoping Ian would maybe come to his senses and let Mickey take him home, but all hope of that faltered when he realised it was all just his wishful thinking.

  There was nothing left for him to do but to go home and forget about the only person in his life he ever felt alive with.

***

  The house was quiet. Too quiet even. There was no baby crying, no yelling in Russian. No dishes being dropped into the sink, no doors slamming.The only sound was the humming of the birds outside his window.

  Mickey opened his eyes slowly and blinked couple of times, trying to adjust them to the morning sun poking through the shitty blinds. He was still tired but his bladder was too full for him to ignore it and he was a minute away from pissing himself.

  All the strength had left his body and he couldn't even move his legs. It could’ve been those two bottles of Jack he’d emptied the previous night, or the fact that the baby had cried almost all night (Svetlana said it was colic, whatever the fuck that meant),but he’d only managed to get maybe an hour of sleep. He blindly reached for the cigarettes on his nightstand but the movement put even more pressure on his bladder and well, unless he wanted to piss all over himself and the bed, he knew he would have to drag himself to the bathroom. His head was pounding, there was an orchestra inside and it was  playing some stupid loud music over and over again, like someone hit the goddamn repeat button.

  Basically, he felt like shit.

  And judging by the image in his mirror he looked like it too.

  He was sick of himself and he wanted to throw up, but he was gonna piss first. The toilet seat was apparently too far away because he didn't make it there. He just relieved himself in the sink. God, he was such a pig, but at this point he didn't give a shit. He tucked himself back in somehow and turned on the tap.

  The water was cold and soothing against his skin. He looked up and the reflection in his mirror made him freeze on the spot. His face looked like that painting Mandy had shown him once when she was watching the History channel ("come here assface, you gotta see this shit!"). That figure with its hands on its face, that looks like it's melting away, with its mouth open like the skin falling down. What was it called, Shout? Scream? He couldn’t remember, but he thought Ian might.

  His fancy friends and all those old geezers probably took him to dinner or some shit to one of those places that have stuff like that hanging above each table. Please. Like you need to be looking at a screaming demon in order to eat.

  Stupid.

  He ran his fingers gently across the cracks in the mirror. it wasn't that long ago that he had made them. He remembered. The feeling of emptiness in his chest, like a part of him that was missing, his heart being broken in half.

  His eyes fell on the pile of magazines stashed behind the toilet seat. The picture was still there, but he wouldn't look at it. He was stronger than that. And he kept telling himself that as his hands were reaching for the pile, acting of their own accord. There was a sharp knock on the door, but he figured whoever it was would go away if he just ignored it.

  The magazine somehow ended up in his hands and just as he was about to turn the page, there was another knock, even louder this time. He stormed out of the bathroom towards the door. There was another knock, this time so strong it rattled the fringes and, giving the fact the door was literally a piece of old, shitty wood, it threatened to bust it down.

  "Fuck off!" Mickey yelled, and it seemed to work because the knocking stopped. But curiosity got the best of him and he opened the door just to see who the fuck it was. His body froze and his lungs held his breath in, because after thirty seven days,  Ian was standing in his doorway, holding a bag over his right shoulder, firmly gripping the wood with black, worn-out, fingerless gloves.

  Mickey felt like he couldn't breathe, like he was one step away from suffocating. Before he even managed to blink, Ian was moving closer, now only couple of feet between them. He looked at Mickey with his puppy dog eyes and Mickey noticed his lower lip trembling.

  "Fuck you," Ian said, his voice sounding broken, like he was crying. "Fuck you Mickey. You're a piece of shit." He dropped the bag and slowly moved his hands towards Mickey's face. "I wish I never met you."

  Mickey felt a rush of cold from Ian’s fingers on his face and a sting in his eyes when Ian pressed their foreheads together and whispered: "I hate you."

  His eyes were red rimmed and Mickey could see a tear rolling down his cheek. Mickey finally exhaled. It was like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders, like he was holding that breath in for an eternity. Before he even registered it, his hands were gripping behind Ian's neck, trying to pull him closer.

  "I hate you too," he whispered against Ian’s mouth. "I hate you so fucking much, I’ve never hated anyone as much as I hate you." He tightened his grip and pulled Ian in for a soft kiss. He didn’t care that it was the middle of the day and there were people in the street. He couldn’t find it in himself to give a fuck, he just knew Ian was back and that was the only thing he cared about. The kiss they shared was nothing more than a brush against their lips but Ian's breath against Mickey’s skin felt so fucking intoxicating. Ian’s lips were so damn soft and warm, just kissing him like he was the sweetest candy Ian had ever tasted.

  He could feel Ian's tears on his face now, the dampness on his lips as Ian parted his own and slid his tongue into Mickey's welcoming warmth.

  "Tell me you'll always hate me," Ian cried as he pulled away before their kiss got heated and pressed his forehead against Mickey's.

  "I'll always hate you."

  "Tell me you'll always hate me."

  "I'll always fucking hate you. I'll never stop hating you. I'll hate you with every fucking bone in my body ‘til the day I die. And then I'll still fucking hate you too."

  They laughed against each other’s mouths, tears wetting both their skin,but neither seemed to care.

  “You really mean what you said last night?” Ian asked when their breathing returned to normal. His voice sounded more like a whisper.

  Mickey ran his thumbs over Ian’s cheekbones and closed his eyes, rubbing the tip of his nose against Ian’s. “Every fucking word,” he whispered back and tightened his grip on Ian’s neck, giving him a soft kiss on the cheek.

  And it might have seemed and sounded strange to anyone watching, it might have seemed like a fight, the way their hands were squeezing the other one's neck, but for these two boys this was as affectionate as they'd ever get.

  Maybe some day they would both find the strength within themselves to finally say the right words. But for now, in that moment, they knew their love was stronger than anything and would overcome whatever barriers life would throw at them.

Everything was pretty much a blur after that. Mickey couldn't really tell when they ended up in their bedroom or who let go of whom first. But there they were, entangled in each other, their hands roaming gently over their bodies. Ian's tongue mingled with Mickey's, remembering his taste, that sweet taste of tobacco and beer and something so uniquely Mickey. Something he knew he'd never get tired of. And Mickey, strongly gripping  Ian's neck, like a drowning man holding on for dear life.

  They started slow, it was nothing more than lazy strokes, brushes of fingertips across their backs, soft grinding of their crotches pressed together. It was like they were getting to know each other's bodies all over again after being apart for what seemed like an eternity to both of them. Mickey's breath hitched when Ian trailed his warm hand down his chest and into his boyfriend's boxers wrapping it around Mickey's thick and hard erection. And when Ian ran his thumb over the leaking slit, smearing the precum around the head in small circles, it dragged a moan out of Mickey that felt like it was punched out of his lungs, but Ian's mouth swallowed it deep inside. He smiled against Mickey's lips and tightened his grip, stroking the older man's cock with a little more force, twisting his wrist a bit on every upstroke.

  “Jesus, Ian…” Mickey groaned into Ian's neck,biting the tender skin just under his ear, a sensation that sent electricity down to his toes, making him fall to pieces.

  They were lying on their sides, facing each other, and it was not a comfortable position for Mickey because he needed Ian in him right now.

  And as much as he loved this slow and lazy making out they were getting into more often, nothing compared to the feeling of fullness of Ian's cock throbbing inside of him, the slapping of their thighs, skin on skin, the brushes against his prostate making him slowly come at the seams.

  So he quickly pulled down their boxers and moved to straddle Ian's hips, but as soon as  he settled on top of him he felt Ian's strong hands gripping his hips, holding him in place.

  “What is it? You don't want to...? Want me to stop?” Mickey asked and ran his fingers over Ian's stiff nipples while rolling his hips over the redhead's. Because there was no fucking way he was stopping now, not when they were both painfully hard against each other, and if Ian were just to stroke his cock a couple of times it would all be over too damn soon.

  “No, I dont want... God, Mickey... I don't want you to stop. Oh Jesus…” Ian arched his back and barely managed to let out a whisper as their cocks slid together and Mickey shuddered as Ian ran his fingers gently over his boyfriend's lips. He loved how the sweet sound of Ian moaning and panting echoed around the empty room and always felt fucking proud of himself for being the one that made Ian let out those sounds in the first place.

  Mickey sighed and kissed the long fingers one by one, his lips dancing around the long digits and it was all just too much. The way Ian's face looked all flush and soft and just beautiful made Mickey's breath catch in his throat. He was doing his best, trying to hold off on coming but the sight of Ian's firm, muscular body underneath him made that sweet feeling rise in his stomach and he had to think about whatever stupid thing came to his mind just to shake it off.

  “I want you to make love to me,” Ian continued softly, “and I want you to be in control.”

  Mickey knew exactly what that meant: Ian wanted him to top. They'd only done it couple of times since that first time when Ian had come bursting into Mickey's room clutching a tire iron, but since then it had mostly been on Ian's initiative or that one time when Mickey had felt particularly cocky and horny and Ian had just been too tired from his ROTC training. Even though he loved bottoming, whenever Ian wanted to switch, Mickey complied nonetheless.

  Before Mickey could ask why now off all times, Ian was already reaching for the nightstand drawer, taking out a bottle of lubricant and presenting it to the man above him. He reached around his neck to  pull his green tank top over his head (Mickey wondered why he was still wearing the damn thing?) and lifted himself up a bit so he could take it off. He threw it to the side and it ended up somewhere on the floor along with the rest of their clothes that were tossed there earlier.

  Mickey took that opportunity to wrap his arms around Ian's broad shoulders, pulling him in for a deep kiss.

  They groaned and panted against each other's mouths, with Ian's hands holding Mickey's circling hips in place and Mickey's gripping Ian's neck.

  “Christ Mick, stop moving… you're gonna make me come like this...fuck…” Ian buried his face into Mickey's neck, tightening his grip on his boyfriend's hips, trying to still his movements. Mickey smiled and licked the sensitive spot under Ian's jaw.

  “Would it be such a bad thing?” he murmured against Ian’s skin and relished in the moan that came out of Ian's mouth.

  “Fuck no, but I really want you in me now,” Ian pleaded. “Please… I need you so much, so fucking much…” It was quiet, almost like a whisper and Mickey’s gut tightened as Ian’s piercing green eyes looked directly at him. He could see the silent prayer coming from them when Ian said, “I need to belong to you, please...”

  Mickey wanted to tell him that Ian would always belong to him, it wasn’t even a question. He wanted to say that no matter what Ian could always consider this his home, a place where he belonged.

  Instead, he placed his hands on Ian's chest and pushed him down slowly so that Ian was now laying flat on his back. He slid down the bed, settling between Ian’s bent legs, and placed a pillow under his lower back before he spread them apart so he could have better access to his boyfriend’s crotch. He didn’t waste any time as he took Ian into his mouth, gently massaging the insides of his thighs. Ian was big and it had been difficult for Mickey to deepthroat him at first, but with time he had developed the ability to relax his jaw enough to be able to bury his nose deep into Ian’s orange hairs and take his whole length into his mouth without gagging.

  Ian’s hands were on his sides, twisting the sheets, and he couldn’t hold his hips still. He lifted them and began thrusting into Mickey’s mouth. But Mickey would have none of that, he slid his hands from Ian’s thighs to press his hips down to still him. Ian wanted him to be in control and this was how he liked to play the game.

  A couple of minutes into sucking and licking around the head of his boyfriend’s cock, Mickey had Ian panting hard and loud and chanting words that were like the sweetest music to Mickey’s ears. It was a mix of “Jesus Christ don’t stop,” and “faster… Oh god...” and “fuck, fuck, fuck...”.And it all came down to him whispering “Mickey, Mickey, Mick...” like a mantra and it sounded so fucking hot that Mickey had to reach down and tug his own cock a couple of times just to relieve the tension a little.

  His tongue swirled around the head of Ian’s leaking cock and slowly slid further down, making small circles around his balls, taking them into his mouth one at a time. He spread Ian’s legs more and pushed them up a bit making more room for himself as he slid down so that he was actually laying on his stomach, which was good because that way he could at least rub himself against the sheets. He was leaking badly and he didn’t think he had ever been this hard before.

  Ian’s head was thrown back and every time his chest rose, Mickey thought he could see the outline of Ian’s heart beating faster and faster. He watched mesmerized as his abdominal muscles twitched when he took him in his mouth once again and ran his tongue agonizingly slowly over the slit, enjoying the sounds it elicited from his boyfriend.

  “Fuck, Mick… Stop fucking teasing and prep me,” Ian ordered and needles to say Mickey was right on it. He circled his tongue in his own mouth for couple of seconds gathering as much saliva as he could to make it slick. When he made sure it was wet enough he hooked Ian’s legs over his shoulders, spread his cheeks with his thumbs and ran it up and down his hole making him all loose and slick.  

  “Jesus fucking… oh god...” Ian panted and Mickey smirked around his ass, gripping his thighs tightly and pushing his tongue slowly into him. He fucked Ian with his tongue for a couple of minutes until his jaw started to hurt. He moved away to get a good look at his work. Ian’s hole was open and wet but not enough to take in Mickey’s thick cock, so he continued with his ministrations only this time he added two fingers where his tongue had been. It wasn’t long before he found Ian’s prostate and curled his fingers so they could graze it. It made Ian groan loudly and he grabbed the headboard so hard that Mickey thought it was going to break for sure. His entire body arched off the bed and it looked almost painful how his back twisted with every move Mickey’s fingers made inside him.

  “Fuuuuck… don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t… fuck, fuck… yeah, right there...” The sound of Ian panting and groaning almost made Mickey come undone so he quickly grabbed the base of his own cock with his free hand and tugged at his balls, trying to stave off the impending orgasm. He missed Ian so fucking much and he’d be damned if he was going to come before giving Ian exactly what he wanted. He knew how sensitive Ian’s prostate was and how easy it would be to make him come by just brushing gently against it.

  His fingers were still inside Ian, working on scissoring him as his other hand reached for the lube. He popped the cap with his teeth and poured a copious amount on Ian’s hole, making him wince at the cold gel. Mickey removed his fingers and spread the lube over Ian’s loose entrance but when he went to smear the rest of it on his own erection, he stopped. Ian sensed something was wrong and lifted his head up giving him a questionable look.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked with a shallow breath. When Mickey didn’t respond but just kept looking down, Ian sat up and put his finger under Mickey’s chin making him look up. “What is it, Mick?” he repeated.

  “Should I… um… put on a condom?” Mickey whispered and knew Ian understood.It was a silent way to ask if Ian had been with someone else while he was away. “I mean it’s okay if you, um… y’know… did or… whatever,” Mickey shrugged and cleared his throat returning his gaze down. It hurt too much to look into Ian’s eyes at that moment and think about all those men touching him and running their hands all over his body and God knows what else.

  But before he got completely wrapped up in those awful thoughts, Ian cupped his face and pressed his forehead against Mickey’s. “No,” he said quietly, “I didn’t… not once.”

  “No?”

  “No,” Ian repeated.

  “Okay,” Mickey nodded with a sigh of relief, “okay.” He tilted his head to look up at him and wrapped his arms around Ian’s shoulders tightly like he’d never done before. He could hear Ian choking out a breath and he knew he was probably squeezing too tight but he couldn’t stop himself from feeling so fucking happy to find out that Ian had been faithful to him, that he didn’t want anyone else but him. Only him.

  He unwrapped his arms from around Ian and kissed him hard and wet and it may have been a bit sloppy and if they seemed like two young, inexperienced boys sharing their very first kiss it was okay with them. After all, they were just teenagers and allowed to act like ones sometimes.

  Ian laid back and brought Mickey down with him. He held onto his neck with both hands and hiked his legs up as Mickey returned to spreading the lube over his own cock, tugging it just a bit to full hardness. He placed it against Ian’s slick entrance and leaned to press their foreheads together, holding tight at his boyfriend’s hip with his free hand.

  “Ready?” He waited for Ian’s approval before making the first move. Ian didn’t bottom that often and no matter how loose Mickey made him there was always the fear of him ripping.

  “Yeah, just… go slow…” Ian whispered and Mickey nodded in agreement, giving the redhead a firm, reassuring kiss. When the glans slowly slid inside, Ian inhaled deeply, holding his breath for the rest of Mickey. And when Mickey bottomed out Ian jolted like he’d been hit by a fucking electric shock and exhaled with a loud groan, echoing through the silent house. He gripped the headboard with such force that Mickey thought his fingers were going to crack it.

  Mickey paused, giving him time to adjust, and ran his hands over the inside of Ian’s thighs to calm him down.

  “Ian relax, remember, even breaths, even breaths, okay?” Mickey encouraged but let out a moan himself when Ian tightened his muscles around him. After waiting for couple of seconds for Ian’s heavy breathing to subside, Mickey slowly pulled out before pushing in again, this time with just a little more force.

  “Oh Jesus fuck you’re tight...” he groaned and continued this slow pace. He was too worked up and Ian’s ass felt like heaven around his cock. As he slid in and out of Ian in a steady rhythm, he took in the sight of a man underneath him.

  In all of his life he never ever imagined this. A beautiful man with a perfect body and a smile so bright that could light up the universe. Because there was Ian, the first person ever to kiss Mickey, the first person ever to want to kiss Mickey. The first person who loved him even when it brought him nothing but heartache in return. The first person ever to trust him and believe in him. To make him feel worthy and beautiful and sexy and wanted. The first person he wanted to spend every minute of every day with, hold hands with, go fucking star gazing with.

  Mickey moved his hands from where they were holding Ian’s hips to press them against Ian’s. He leaned down to kiss him, curling their fingers together and quickening his pace, and moaned into Ian’s mouth when the redhead arched his hips up and squeezed them tightly around Mickey’s waist.

  “Oh god… do that again...” Ian pleaded when Mickey changed the angle of his thrusts and his cock grazed his boyfriend’s prostate.

  “What, this?” he teased and smirked around Ian’s lips, thrusting into him with a bit more force.

  “Jesus fucking… God yeah… fuck… right there… come on...” Ian urged and squeezed Mickey’s hands tightly and tightening his grip on the brunet’s waist.

  Mickey watched in awe as the redhead was falling apart under him and relished every second.

  Getting fucked by Ian was the most amazing thing in the whole world for Mickey, but fucking Ian came pretty close to that. Because with the way Ian’s muscles clenched around Mickey’s cock and with the moans that came out of his mouth it was a miracle Mickey lasted this long. With every thrust Mickey gave, Ian was there to welcome him and meet him halfway.

  His body started to shudder and he could feel his orgasm beginning to build deep down in his gut but he didn’t want to come yet. He wanted this to last.

  “Fuck, I don’t think I’m gonna last much longer,” he breathed out and buried his face in Ian’s neck. He panted with his mouth open against the soft skin, kissing and licking the sensitive spot under Ian’s ear, relishing in the groan that crossed Ian’s lips. He let go of Ian’s hands and was surprised when Ian used that moment to turn them around and press Mickey down on the bed, not wasting any time before sliding back onto his throbbing cock. Mickey choked out a gasp and grabbed at Ian’s ass, pushing his fingers into the soft flesh, pressing it down onto his hips. Mickey had to admit that he loved when Ian manhandled him like that.

  “Jesus  fuck… the fuck you doin’ to me man,” he gasped and tilted his head back when Ian rolled his hips in a way that always did Mickey in. He placed his hands on Mickey’s chest for leverage and began rocking up and down in a steady rhythm. His eyes never left Mickey’s and Mickey just couldn’t look away. He was mesmerized by the green lustful eyes that stared so intently into his own and he could see the love in them and he wondered if Ian saw the same thing in his eyes.

  Mickey lifted himself up into sitting position and put one hand around Ian’s waist while using the other to draw himself near the headboard, leaning against it. He pulled Ian with him and Ian spread out his legs and wrapped them around Mickey’s lower back. It wasn’t the most comfortable position and Mickey knew that, but when Ian started riding Mickey like he was born to do it, whatever thoughts he’d been having vanished from his mind with one single look at the redhead. Ian bounced up and down Mickey’s cock, holding onto the headboard, panting and groaning and Mickey was a minute from coming. He squeezed Ian’s ass and ran his fingers over the spot where they were joined together, enjoying how easily his cock was sliding in and out of Ian’s hole. He felt Ian’s body quake and he knew his boyfriend well enough to feel when he was close to coming. Ian panted against his ear and Mickey laughed at the outburst of profanities coming from that perfect mouth.

  “Shit Mick, I’m so fucking close… just touch me, yeah, like that… c’mon… fuck… don’t stop...” he moaned when he felt  Mickey’s fingers around his cock as Mickey started jerking him off, running his thumb over the wet slit, twisting his wrist on every upstroke. Ian moved one hand from the headboard and reached around his back to place it on Mickey’s leg, just below his knee. He planted his feet flat against the board still holding onto it with the other hand and tilted his body back, giving Mickey more room to work on his cock.

  “Fuck Ian… c’mon, c’mon… yeah, that’s it, all the way, c’mon…  oh Jesus I’m so close, one more, give me one more… fuck, fuck... ” Mickey panted and with two more hard jams from Ian it was all over. He came with a loud groan, filling his boyfriend with hot white streams while his body jerked like it was being electrocuted. He let go of Ian’s cock so he could reach over his head and grab the headboard as he was lifting his hips, thrusting hard into Ian riding out his orgasm and Ian let go of Mickey’s knee and continued to tug himself. He came only seconds later thickly over Mickey’s chest, groaning into his mouth.

  They stayed like that for couple of minutes, kissing gently and stroking each other’s backs. Neither of them had the power or even the desire to move even when their legs started to cramp.

  “Damn it Ian, don’t you do this shit again, you hear me?” Mickey broke the silence pleading against Ian’s neck. “I mean it man. I don’t think I could fuckin’ take it, losing you again.”

  Ian tightened his grip around his boyfriend’s shoulders, holding him close to his chest. “I won’t, I promise,” he whispered. “I’m staying for good.”

  “You better.”

  “Okay,” Ian nodded and pressed a soft kiss to Mickey’s cheek. “Can I tell you something?” he asked cupping Mickey’s face.

  “Sure.”

  “I love you,” he whispered and rubbed his nose against Mickey’s. “Do you love me?”

  Mickey sighed and covered Ian’s hands with his own. He looked at those beautiful green eyes and wondered how they got to this. All that shit Mandy used to blab about, that ‘love at first sight’ bullshit? After years and years of self loathing and hiding his feelings, Mickey finally understood what all that crap meant. He wanted Ian around from that very first time, he wanted to touch him, kiss him, watch TV with him. Do all that stupid gay shit Ian was always trying to make him do, like spread a blanket and look for shooting stars, or hold hands while eating in a restaurant, or dance together in the middle of a night club. And if this thing Mickey felt for Ian was not love, someone had gotten it all wrong.

  “Yeah,” he whispered back.”Yeah, I fuckin’ do.”

Chapter 9: Just like it's supposed to be-the epilogue

Summary:

After Mickey pulled back, Ian stood there surprised by the kiss that he almost dropped the baby. Mickey buttoned up his jacket and took the keys from the key holder and passed a stunned Ian and giggling Yevgeny on his way out.

“C’mon, hurry up!” Ian was standing at the doorway with little Yevgeny in his arms, waiting for his boyfriend to finally come out of the bathroom. “We’re gonna be late, Mick.”

  “We’re not gonna be late Gallagher, Jesus. It’s only like, six forty fi… Shit, it’s six forty five?!” Mickey stomped out of the bathroom wiping his hands on a towel. He glanced at the hallway mirror and ran them through his hair once more. “That good?” he turned to Ian who was barely managing to hold in his laughter. God, his boyfriend was such a dork sometimes.

  “Yeah, it’s good. Now come on already, we’re supposed to be there in fifteen minutes,” Ian sighed in exasperation. "You know they’re gonna think we’re doing this on purpose? I mean every single time it’s the same with you. You fuck around the apartment all day doing nothing and then you start getting ready when we’re already at the door.”

  “Well excuse me for wanting my hair to look good.”

  “Your hair looks fine,” Ian assured him, “now get your jacket and let’s get going.”

  “Right, wouldn’t want to make their royal highnesses wait five minutes,” Mickey muttered with an obvious eye-roll.

  “Why are you being such a jerk? You know how important they both are to me,” Ian said. “Besides, you can act all you want but I know you like them too. Especially Cat.”

  “Fuck off, I do not.”

  “Uh-hu…” Ian rolled his eyes at him.

  “I’m tellin’ you, I don’t like her. Or him. It’s you who’s got the boner for the Holy Father.” Mickey mocked the last part silently but not enough for Ian not to hear the annoyance in his voice.

  “God you’re an asshole. When’s it gonna get through that stupid gelled head of yours that I only have the boner for you?! I should think that after all this time you would know that. And I like Aaron and I’m forever thankful for everything he’s done for me, because if it hadn’t been for him I would probably be drugged somewh… -mmmph...”

  Mickey always thought it would be better for Ian to stop talking because he, for one, didn’t want to hear about "what if’s". So he closed the miniscule distance between them and shoved his tongue down Ian’s throat.

  After Mickey pulled back Ian stood there, so surprised by the kiss that he almost dropped the baby. Mickey buttoned up his jacket and took the keys from the key holder and passed a stunned Ian and giggling Yevgeny on his way out.

“The fuck are you snickerin’ for?” he pinched his three-year-old son’s cheek and gently pushed Ian out the door. “What? I need a permission to kiss you now?” he raised his eyebrow at him  when Ian didn’t move. “C’mon, the cab’s waiting.” He locked the door to their apartment and the three musketeers left for dinner.