Okay, so I know this story is much darker than the fluffy crap I write, but I couldn't resist. The title is from the song Heartbeat by The Fray. This fic will probably be a few chapters long, and I will tell you now that there will be a happy ending.

Disclaimer: I want everything, but own nothing.

TRIGGER WARNING: I know I said this in the description, but in case you missed it - SELF HARM AND MENTIONS OF SUICIDE. Please turn back if this bothers you.

Mickey Milkovich has lots of scars. Most of them were from fights that involved sharp objects that cut into his pale skin, deep enough to make him wince and curse under his breath, but never deep enough for him to stop. Those scars were expected; he was a Milkovich, and those unfortunate few that were in the Milkovich family – if they could even be called that - were covered in nothing but scars, grime, and blood. Mickey wore those scars with pride, believing them to be his battle scars.

However, the other scars that tainted Mickey's body were hidden very carefully. Mickey would never tell another living soul about the scars he left himself; they were his punishment. They were his punishment for being such a fuck up. For being a fag. For being in love with a certain redhead that he wanted so desperately to hate. Ever since Mickey was a child, he had known he was different from his brothers, his father, and from the boys at school. Instead of joining their conversations about how hot some girls were, he sat quietly, his mind wandering over to what it'd feel like to kiss a boy.

When Mickey was eleven years old, he witnessed his mother take a razor blade to her wrist, making fine, even lines that Mickey found disturbingly beautiful. He could tell she was high because her hand was nowhere near that steady when she was sober. She killed herself not long after that, and he remembers the last thing she said to him.

"I've punished myself enough, Mickey. It's time I let go."

Mickey wasn't able to sleep for days after his mother's death, the sound of Mandy's cries and his father's body thudding on the ground after he'd passed out drunk were too much for him.

When Mickey and Ian started fucking, Mickey had already grown used to the feel of his razor blade against his skin. He gave himself three cuts after every time with Ian. Mickey knew that he deserved these punishments for the way he was slowly falling in love with the redhead's shit eating grin that seemed to make him glow.

It was one of those rare, glorious nights when Terry and Mickey's brothers were out of the house getting wasted and committing crimes. Mickey had gotten the razor blade from its hiding place inside of a nearly untouched book. Mickey thought it was really smart of him to hide it in a book; no one in his family read books, and the only reason Mickey even had the book was because Lip had given it to Mandy. He pressed the blade to his skin, not applying enough pressure to make a cut. He bit his lip and pressed the blade harder on his wrist when there was a knock on the front door. Mickey jumped and dropped the blade on his bed, cursing under his breath and pressing his shirt to his fresh cut in an attempt the stop the minimal amount of bleeding he'd caused. The person at the door knocked again, the noise making Mickey flinch.

"Calm the fuck down, I'm coming!" Mickey shouted as he walked to the door. He pressed down on the cut with his shirt, making sure it stopped bleeding before he opened the door.

To say he was surprised by who was standing before him would be an understatement of epic proportions. Mickey eyes widened when he saw his Gallagher standing before him before he schooled his face into its usual blank expression.

"The fuck you want, Gallagher?" Mickey asked impatiently, looking down at his filthy sneakers and trying to hide his arm behind the door. Ian blinked his red-rimmed eyes as if he had forgotten why he had just randomly showed up at Mickey's doorstep.

"I didn't know where else to go. M-Monica tried to commit suicide. She s-slit her wrists during dinner. Karen's baby is Asian. And it has down syndrome. Everything is so fucked, Mick," Ian sobbed, clamping his eyes shut before any tears could escape. "I know I shouldn't have come here, but I didn't know what to do. I can't get the image out of my head. S-she was just sitting there in a p-pool of blood."

Mickey cursed quietly before sighing and opening the door wider for Ian. The redheaded boy shuffled in, walking straight to Mickey's bedroom, stopping abruptly when he noticed something on the bed.

"Mick, why do you have a blade on your bed with blood on it?"

Ugh, what have I done? Reviews are cherished.