Author's Note

So, I know Valentine's Day passed, but I feel like this just needed to happen. I know someone asked for an fluffy follow up to Home May be Gone, but It's Never Far, and I promise some of these will be fluffy. Since the original covered a two year time span, there's lots of things that happened in between. I hope you enjoy this.

If you haven't read the first part of this story you might be little confused so go check out Home May be Far, but It's Never Gone.

Mickey was barely aware that Valentine's Day was even a holiday. Alejandra, the one person who probably would have bugged the fuck out of him about it, was working a nineteen hour shift . It's not like anyone was handing out heart shaped candies or boxes of chocolates, so when Carlos wanted to wrap up the sales about an hour early, Mickey didn't think twice about it.

He only vaguely became aware something was wrong when he stepped inside the diner for a cold beer and found himself surrounded by at least a dozen couples. Mickey thought it was odd so many people were out for dinner, but he frankly didn't give a fuck about what people did with their nights.

Finally, Carlos saw him from across the room, and Mickey almost died of shock. Carlos was wearing a fucking penguin suit. A goddamn suit with a fucking bow tie and everything. What the motherfucking hell.

"Mickey! Glad to see you, amigo. Did you bring a girl with you? There's got to be a romantic somewhere in you!"

Mickey couldn't breathe. "Fuck no! What's wrong with you? Just go home and fuck for a few hours like normal people!"

Carlos didn't look dissuaded. He turned his back briefly to smile at Maria, who was wearing a red dress that gave the distinct impression someone was getting laid tonight. On any other occasion Mickey would have congratulated him, but he was not about to celebrate a holiday dedicated to love

No fucking thank you.

Against his better judgement, Mickey stayed at the diner(only at the bar of course, where there were no couples). After a few beers, his mind started to wander a place he'd desperately tried to avoid. Ian fucking Gallagher.

If Ian was here, he'd probably want them to be one of those fucking couples over there. Mickey would probably tell him to stop being so fucking gay, and Ian would shut his mouth even though he was hurt. Maybe it was better than Ian was a thousand miles away, celebrating the holiday like normal people would. Maybe his boyfriend took him out to dinner at a fancy fucking restaurant and took him home afterwards for sex.

Ian was probably glad he didn't have to beg for affection. He probably thought leaving Mickey at the border was the best fucking thing he'd ever done. When Mickey thought about it now, it was a miracle Ian stayed with him as long as he did. No, it wasn't a miracle. It was sick Mickey didn't realize what he'd had before he fucked it all up.

The bartender, a regular of Mickey's, slid him another beer. Mickey hadn't even realized he'd finished an entire bottle. Whatever. It wasn't like he had anyone special to impress.

Mickey almost vomited when he saw the napkin underneath was in the shape of a heart. What sick asshole found the time to cut napkins into hearts? Is this the shit that passed for romance?

Mickey looked around the room again. There were heart shapes everywhere. The napkins, the table clothes, the decorations. It was like the world was shoving it in his face that Mickey was a fucking loser that was never good enough for the one person he loved. While Carlos was celebrating, Mickey could only watch them like a twisted movie.

The thing that hurt most though was that Mickey wanted to be one of them. He wanted to dress up in suit and bring Ian here, even though the place was shit. He wanted to sit at one of those fucking tables and pretend nothing else mattered in the world except Ian. He wanted to rush through whatever meal they were eating and take Ian back to his apartment. He wanted to watch the penguin suit end up crumpled on the floor and have Ian naked in bed. Mostly, he wanted Ian.

Carlos laughed, and Mickey realized he had to leave before he got anymore fucking sentimental. He threw ten bucks at the bartender and stormed out the door.

He was shoving the key in his apartment door when he realized the fucking napkin was stuck to his sleeve. Mickey almost laughed at how fucked up his life was. There's was a fucking heart stuck to his sleeve when his actually heart was a thousand miles away fucking someone else.

Mickey couldn't bring himself to throw it away, though. As he stepped inside his apartment, he found himself just staring at it; staring at the beer stain on the corner and the tears on the edges. The damn thing was resilient enough to get all the way here. It seemed a little cruel to chuck it.

There wasn't anyplace to put it though. He wasn't about to let Alejandra see him hiding a napkin of all things. A fucking napkin.

Mickey ended up tapped the heart to the backside of the bathroom mirror. He couldn't see it, but when he looked in the mirror he knew it was still there. If he just reached around to the back, he could feel the soft paper and try to imagine Ian was there too (probably laughing at him).

But Ian's not here. He's not here, and he doesn't love you. Stop acting like a pussy, Mickey scolded himself.

Fuck Ian. And fuck Valentine's Day.