At a tender age of only 7 years old, Antonia Milkovich was already living up to the family name. And she was damn proud of it too. Her surname was Milkovich and she let everyone know it. She stole things, she cursed at people, she beats kids at school up and takes their money. She really was Mickey's daughter. She even looked exactly like him. Black hair, usually worn in a single side braid, and blue eyes. Her eyes were a little bit wider, and they shined a little bit brighter, but they were still his eyes. Mickey loved that most about her. She was solely his daughter, she looked and acted like him. No trace of the Russian whore anywhere in his little girl.
Svetlana walked out on them both when Antonia was only a year old. She disappeared only hours after Terry Milkovich's death, which raised suspicion. People wanted to find her, not to imprison her, but to thank her. Mickey included. Svetlana left papers on the coffee table, her signature on both the divorce papers and the ones that granted Mickey sole custodian. Which left Mickey to raise Antonia on his own.
Mickey was never a bad father, he was actually a very good father. He gave her money, taught her how to defend herself, spent time with her, his gift to her on her 6th birthday was a hunting knife. The only thing strange about their household was an absence of pictures. Not a single picture of Antonia anywhere in the house, not even one in his wallet. She didn't find it odd until she started hanging out in other kids houses. Liam Gallagher for example, he was a few years older than her but they were sort of friends. His house is full of pictures of him and his siblings. Everywhere you look there is a frozen, smiling face looking back at you. It was the day before Christmas that year that she found out why.
Antonia was nosy and impatient, she always has been and she most likely always will be. She, being the lovely daughter she is, asked Mickey if he wanted a beer. He replied with a grunt of approval and she slipped a sleeping pill she stole from aunt Mandy into his drink before she brought it in to him. In 10 minutes, he was out cold on the couch. She placed a blanket over his sleeping form and kissed his forehead.
With an exited giggle, the 7 year old bounced upstairs to begin her search for her presents. She started with the spare bedroom, neither of them used it anymore. It used to be her playroom before she swapped dolls for guns. She rummaged through the drawers, in the closet and under the bed. Absolutely nothing. She checked in the bathroom next. Looking under the sink, under the loose floorboard, in the cupboards. Still nothing. She checked her very own room. Because it's the last place Mickey would think she would look, because it's too obvious but it was so obvious that it was just obvious in her brain. She nearly tore her bedroom apart but collapsed on her bed with an aggravated huff.
"If I was going to hide presents, and I was my dad, where would I hide them?" she never reached a conclusion to her question, but there was still one place that she had not yet searched. Her father's room. It had been an unspoken rule ever since she could walk that Mickey's room was off limits, adult access only. She walked into the hallway and stood in front of the closed door. She gnawed on her bottom lip so hard that it bled. If he found out, she would be in a world of trouble.
She liked breaking rules and testing authority, sure, but disobeying her father has never once crossed her mind. But something about the aspect of going into a forbidden room, made her want to know why it was forbidden. After an intense internal struggle, she decided to enter the room, keeping caution very firmly in her grasp. She decided not to touch anything, not to move anything, just have a very subtle poke around.
The inside of her father's closet was a complete mess anyway, so it didn't matter if she searched in there. Rummaging through the clothes, a box with no lid tumbled out, spilling it's contents all over the floor. Antonia's heart thudded in her chest.
What if something in there was valuable? And I broke it?
She began to hastily pick up what was dropped, and was relieved to find it was just pictures. Wait, pictures? Surely aunt Mandy must have left them behind when she moved out. But why were they in her dad's closet? She curiously turned them over and was shocked at her discovery. Her dad was in most of them, often accompanied by a red haired boy. that looked awfully familiar. They looked to be in their teens, and her dad looked happy. Truly happy. His eyes weren't so sunken and sad, his smile looked genuine, and he was looking at the ginger one with such...affection that for some reason it made Antonia jealous. Who was this man that her father so obviously held close to his heart? Did he love him more than he loved her?
She realised that maybe yes, her father did love this nameless man more than her. Not one picture in the entire house of Antonia, and here she was holding countless pictures of this person. Angry and hurt, she stuffed the pictures back in the box and the box back in the closet. She stormed back to her room and threw herself on the bed, letting the pillow soak up her tears. For the first time ever, she questioned her position as the person Mickey Milkovich loved the most.
She managed to convince herself after a few weeks that if this person isn't still in her father's life, then he is completely irrelevant. Never has Antonia had to fight for her father's attention before and she'll be damned if she lets some ginger asshole she's never even seen in person threaten her relationship with her dad. This guy was his past but she and she alone is Mickey's present and future.
Needless to say she was very unhappy when Ian Gallagher returned to the south side.
Mickey was walking Antonia to the Gallagher household. He hated having to see the familiar house every week but he managed because that's what his precious daughter wanted. He walked along the grungy streets, listening to her mindless chatter. She was telling him a story about the time she stabbed some old pervert in the leg.
"And he started screaming and crying and the blood was gushing out of his leg nonstop. He kept mumbling about blood loss or some crap like that and I said-"
"Gallagher?!" Mickey stopped in his tracks, cutting off Antonia's story to stare at the red haired boy he missed so much.
"What? No, I said.." she never finished her sentence because she followed her father's eyes and she felt more hateful than she had in her entire life.
"Mickey? What are you doing at my house?" her glare at the man from the pictures was making her eyes hurt. One of Liam's brothers? Now she knew why he looked so familiar, he was in the Gallagher family photos too.
"I..uh" hearing her father stumble over his words was definitely new.
"He's taking me to see Liam, so if you don't mind, please kindly fuck off out of our way so we can get to the door" Antonia hissed and for the first time since this awkward exchange started, he looked down at her.
"Oh hey, you're Antonia right? Mandy spoke about you a few times. I'm Ian Gallagher, Liam's brother" he held his hand out but she made no move to shake it.
"Means nothing to me, now get out of my way before I stab you in the neck" she warned, pulling her knife from her boot. Mickey reached down and took the knife from her hands.
"Don't be so fucking rude, apologise. Now" Mickey ordered and she felt her eyes sting with tears. He never had a problem with her threatening people before. What was it about Ian Gallagher that made him more special to her own father than her?
"Go to hell!" she screamed at no one in particular. He took his side. Her own dad took some random guy's side over hers. So unfair. If aunt Mandy was here, she'd take her side. She stormed inside, slamming the door behind her. She sat on the couch next to Liam and ignored him. Her arms were crossed and she was pouting. She started to feel more sad than angry. Her dad didn't love her anymore and it was Ian Gallagher's fault. She was probably over reacting but she was too upset to care. Loud shouting broke her from her silent tantrum.
She walked over to the door and opened it cautiously, her dad took her knife but if she needed to defend herself, she had a strong foot to kick with.
"Why do you care, Mickey?! It's not like you ever actually loved me anyway! Nothing but a warm mouth to you, remember?" Ian shouted, his face as red as his hair. Antonia wished she knew what they were arguing about but she didn't care, if her dad and Ian weren't talking, her life would be peachy.
"Oh I'm sorry, fucking Saint Gallagher, why don't you fuck your way through the old people's home to make yourself feel better?!" she had seen her dad angry plenty of times before, but she had never seen him so passionate about being angry. He used to be a hard shell and Ian's presence seemed to have lit a fire in him that she'd never seen before.
"At least old people might actually have the capacity to love someone, unlike big bad Mickey Milkovich who can't stand the thought of a damaged reputation!" Antonia tapped him on the shoulder and he turned around. She swiftly brought her foot up to his balls and sent him to his knees. Knocking him to the ground with a punch to the face and a bloody nose, she looped her hand into her father's.
"Speak to my dad like that again and I'll cut your fucking tongue out" with that, both Milkovich's walked away, leaving a bloody Ian Gallagher behind.
It had been a week since Antonia Milkovich met Ian Gallagher. When they got home, Mickey finally told his daughter about the boy he once loved. He told her about her mom, who he never spoke of. He told her about Terry and why she even existed in the first place. He spilled every little detail about the monstrosity that was his relationship with Ian Gallagher. And she realised that he was wrong. Ian said that Mickey never loved him but he was wrong.
After that, Mickey became even more reclusive than before. He barely slept and when he did it was because he passed out from alcohol consumption. He barely ate, sending Antonia out for a candy bar now and then.
Antonia repeated her actions of the previous Christmas, slipping a sleeping pill into her father's drink. She waited until he passed out to go upstairs, into his room and to open the closet. Nothing but fierce determination soared through her body. She was only 7 but she was a Milkovich, and when they were angry, you'd know about it. She grabbed the small box full of pictures and stormed through the streets of Chicago. Reaching the Gallagher house, she had no regard for their privacy and kicked the door open.
The entire pack of them was there, and a birthday cake sat in front of Fiona. But she didn't care. Her father was miserable because of him, and if she couldn't make her father happy she could at least make him miserable too. She walked to where he was sat and dumped the pictures in front of him.
"You know, my dad doesn't have a single picture of me. Not even one. Not in the house, not on his phone, not in his wallet and yet he has all these pictures of you. He clearly does love you, or else he would have burned the damn things" Ian picked up a picture of him and Mickey hugging after he got out of juvie, the first time. He didn't know how one little girl could be so angry, then again, she is Mickey's daughter, and he kind of has to love her for that.