He sits in silent near tearful silence as he watches Ian, -the puzzle piece missing from his life; sleep. There were so many things on his mind, the night playing over and over for him. The way the world stopped when he saw Ian, the way his heart broke just a little more when he watched the dance, if that's what you could call it. Leaning forward with his elbows on his knees as he thinks of all of the that could've been if he had just told him how he felt. It's painful knowing that he fucked everything up so badly. Honestly, truthfully, even if none of it was really his fault, he feels like it is. Like all of this though as he put it, not his problem, was his responsibility.
I'm sorry, that I wasn't what you deserved, you deserved somebody who could tell you how he felt, show you how he felt not just sit back and let this...us...crash and fuckin' burn. It's late but I chased after you. I found you at your lowest and brought you home, where you belong. With me or without me. Stupid fuckin' tweaked out redhead you're too good for all of this, all of that. Who the fuck do you think you are sellin' yourself short? What the fuck were you thinkin' throwin' your life away like that? Everyone knew you were better than that, the gettin' out of here type… the kind of guy who could become anything he wanted and you chose a coked out whore?
A few stray tears fell from the thug's eyes, he wiped them away as he continued to watch, just admiring how peaceful he looked, how pretty he still was, thinking of the days when drugs were the furthest thing from Ian's mind unless it was a loosely packed joint of shit weed. Mickey missed those days when their world was a lot less complicated when life made sense even if it didn't have to. He missed the way that they seemed to fit together. They innocent fun they shared, all of it, even when things got rough Ian was the only thing he wanted even if he never really could say it.
Out of the corner of his gaze he saw Svetlana, he could see the look in her eyes, but he couldn't read just what it meant. Surely she knew he didn't love her right? Despite no love for her in a romantic sense Mickey cared though he may never admit that either. These were the things he cannot say. The thoughts he lives with because his mouth couldn't convey. As she turns to leave he turns his gaze back to Ian with a soft sigh.
I love you, fuckhead.