Admitted
Summary: "Do you trust me?" Mickey asked into the darkness. "Yeah," Ian muttered. He didn't hesitate. Written in response to the 5x07 script spoilers. IF YOU ARE NOT OKAY WITH POSSIBLE SPOILERS THEN DON'T READ THIS. You have been warned.
Disclaimer: I don't own Shameless.
I made a fucking pun with this title are you fucking kidding me. omg He's "admitted" into the hospital and he "admits" to being bipolar. Wow that's a horrible pun. Omg
Anyway, I'm so sorry for this fic. Next, I promise I will continue with Our Fate Is Red. I'll try to make up for all this angst by writing that locker room sex scene I know you all have been waiting for. haha
Mickey and Ian both lay in the cramped hospital bed, arms and legs tangled tightly around each other. Moonlight streamed through the barred window, barely lighting up the dark, cold room around them. Visitors weren't allowed after hours, but Mickey didn't really give a shit. He'd snuck into the facility more times than he could count already, and honestly, the nurses were so used to him being around so much that they didn't even bother to kick him out anymore.
Ian stared at him in the dark. He couldn't even imagine what the place would've been like if he didn't have Mickey. He hated that he even had to be there. He wasn't Bipolar. Why the fuck couldn't people see that he didn't belong in a loony bin with a bunch of crazy people?
"When am I getting out of here?" Ian asked quietly. He knew that Mickey was still awake. Mickey opened his eyes slowly and frowned. That was a complicated question that Ian didn't want to know the real answer to.
"When you get better," he muttered begrudgingly.
"Better?" Ian scoffed. "I try to take Yevgeny on one fucking trip to Orlando and suddenly everyone thinks I'm insane."
Mickey didn't say anything. He knew there was no use trying to argue.
Mickey's silence worried Ian. "Do you think I'm crazy?" he asked, barely above a whisper. Mickey could hear the fear in his voice.
"Fuck no," Mickey replied instantly. "It's not that."
Ian frowned. "Then what is it?"
Mickey chewed on his lip. "Did your mother ever think she was crazy?" he asked.
Ian wasn't quite sure where Mickey was going with the conversation. He grimaced but answered anyway. "She didn't think she was Bipolar for a long time."
Mickey sighed. "…yeah," he grunted. "I figured."
"That doesn't prove anything," Ian shot back. He looked away. He didn't want to face the truth.
"Do you trust me?" Mickey asked into the darkness.
"Yeah," Ian muttered. He didn't hesitate.
"Then trust me now," Mickey said darkly. Ian could hear the desperation in his voice. "I would never have fucking let them give you those papers to sign if I wasn't 100 percent sure you needed to be here."
Ian pushed himself up by his elbow and looked down at Mickey's features illuminated by the moonlight, searching for some kind of sign, anything to prove that he was wrong. But Mickey only stared back at him with heartbroken certainty in his eyes, and Ian knew that he had to accept it.
He buried his face in Mickey's shoulder and cried for hours.
He had to admit the truth: he was Bipolar and he needed help.
