Mickey was always a loner. He preferred to be by himself, felt safer that way. Mickey can remember his mom telling him once, that it was ok to be yourself, when Mandy had called him a freak of nature, for always being holed up in his room. He can remember sitting between her legs, while she was on the couch watching soap operas, playing in his hair. She told him, "Mickey, baby. It's ok if you want to stay to yourself sometimes. When it's just you, there are no eyes to judge you, and no voices to annoy you." she said, blowing the smoke from her cigarette into the air, like she was blowing away all her problems. He held on to that memory like his life depended on it. He only wanted to remember his mom when it was just him and her, sitting together, him breathing in her familiar scent of perfume and cigarettes, and her playing in his hair. Everyone knew that Mandy was Terry's favorite child, but Mickey always knew he was the sunshine in his mother's world.
Since her death 8 years ago, of a drug overdose, Mickey's life had never been the same. His mother, Amanda, was his motivation in life. He went to school for her, he cleaned his room for her; he even bathed everyday for her, even though he thought it was completely pointless. He did everything in his power to make her feel loved and to make her happy. Being the wife of Terry Milkovich wasn't easy, and Mickey hated seeing his mother cry, and drink her emotions away. When she left the world, a part of Mickey's soul left with her. When she died, Mickey turned cold and became isolated; he got tough, knowing no one would ever protect him like his mother did.
Mickey was never a religious person. Growing up in the Milkovich house, he was used to being around Neo-Nazi prison friends of Terry, coke heads that owed his family money, and prostitutes that his older brothers would bring home after a night out partying. This, however, didn't stop Mickey from praying every year on his mother's birthday that she made it to heaven and was now in peace. In a way he's glad that his mother was dead. At least she didn't have to be judged or annoyed by the world anymore, and she would never have to feel Terry's cold hands around her throat like a vice grip, strangling the life and the dignity out of her frail body.
But Mickey never stood still while his father beat his mother. He would jump onto his father's back and use all the strength he could gather, to pull him off of her, knowing the fists were now coming his way. Terry always resented him for helping his mother. "Only pussies and fags interfere with another man's business!" Terry would scream at Mickey before kicking him in the stomach and storming out the door.
When Mickey came home from school a couple of days later, excited to show his mother he made the honor roll, he wasn't really surprised to see her lifeless body sprawled out on the bathroom floor, needle still in her arm. He wasn't mad, or even a little bit sad, because he knew exactly why she did it, why she had to escape. He didn't cry as he removed the needle from her arm and called the police. He didn't cry when Mandy had a panic attack when she learned about their mother's death, and he held her shivering body close to his. Mickey didn't even cry as he saw her casket being buried into the ground, as the dirt and gravel tumbled around, leading to her eternal slumber.
Mickey didn't cry not because he didn't care, but because he felt an overwhelming sense of being lost. His mother was the sun and the stars to him. She was his beacon of light guiding him through this cold, dark world. Without her he didn't know where to go, or what to do anymore, so he just stopped. He stopped caring about his grades, he stopped caring about his hygiene, and he stopped cleaning his room. He became a zombie, just going through the motions of life. Eat, sleep, eat, and sleep. Nothing else mattered to him anymore, not until Ian.
When Ian came into Mickey's life, he was terrified. Ian was just supposed to be a convenient fuck to him, nothing more. Mickey had vowed to never let anyone into his heart again after his mother died, but Ian was a stubborn bastard, who always got his way. It started with small stuff like listening to a band Ian had suggested, then coming over to hang out with Ian when all the other Gallagher's went skating at the ice ring. Mickey felt himself slipping into something he never wanted to feel again, but it felt too good to stop.
Mickey's mother's words echoed in his head sometimes, "Mickey, baby. It's ok if you want to stay to yourself sometimes. When it's just you, there are no eyes to judge you, and no voices to annoy you." Mickey wanted now, more than ever, to talk to his mother. He needed someone to talk to, someone he could trust. He was confused, lost and scared and he didn't know what to do. His mother told him being by yourself meant that people couldn't judge or annoy you. What if the eyes that were supposed to judge you, looked at you, like you were the best thing on earth? What if those eyes held so much love in them that you couldn't help but go weak in the knees when they looked at you? What if the voice that was supposed to annoy you, told such amazing stories, that you lost sense of time, and had to force yourself to pull away from such a mesmerizing voice. What if that same voice told you that they love you, and when you silenced that voice, by pressing your lips together, they world stopped and all that remained was the two of you.
Mickey thought these thoughts as he looked over at a sleeping Ian, who was sprawled out on Mickey's bed. His mother had been right, when you're by yourself, there are no eyes to judge you, and there are no voices to annoy you, but sometimes when you let someone in, they can change your world forever, like Ian did for Mickey. Ian was the new light in Mickey's life; he was Mickey's new motivation. And as Mickey curled up in the bed with Ian, he couldn't help but take in the smell of lime body wash, as he thought about how safe he felt with Ian by his side. He finally figured out what he was looking for, and when he pressed a final kiss to Ian's forehead, he couldn't help but think of how much his mother would have loved Ian.